Unsurvivable
I wanted you but
God wanted you more
Perhaps you were an angel
not meant for earth
Perhaps you were a hard a lesson
in grief and loss
That I needed to learn
A lesson that I should never take
love and hope for grant
No matter how brief the stay is
A lesson that your heart
can break within a span
of a few minutes
A lesson in surviving
what you think is unsurvivable
this poem is an updated version from the 2006 poem, “she flew”
she’s gone to the other side
leaving us in a state of mourning
no tears, no words soften the emotional blow
can’t take back how we took her for granted
and now anger, regret, and remorse
becomes who we are
until we accept the passage of time
is our biggest ally in healing from her absence
aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Vete de Aqui
We’ve lost our beginner’s luck and now see who we really are
two incompatible souls too stubborn to be alone
and let go of our made up illusion of love
and between our uncomfortable silences,
your distant demeanor, and my growing resentment
it’s better to close our chapter of love
before I start to really hate you
let’s end this while we can still walk away as friends
Melia Cogan has done it again with her second poetry collection. She paints a picture of the beauty of love and the euphoria it brings to one’s life. This book will make you weak at your knees and perhaps even want to get you on a dating app to look for that special someone to experience the magic of love. Cogan explores the mosaic of emotions that come with love. Through Cogan’s verse, I was transported to the alluring and sometimes tumultuous journey of love.
I’ll talk about my 2 favorite poems from the poetry collection.
One of the poems that really resonated with me was “Should I Allow Myself”. I liked how profound this poem is-it speaks about allowing yourself to fall in love recklessly while risking your vulnerability. It’s risking everything to be in the moment of that special memory of love. This is presented in the lines “Together/the possibilities/reach for me in the night/and primarily/I wish they were you (Cogan)”. It’s a desire for longing to be with that special someone.
The other poem that I really related to was “I’m Hiding from Love”because that’s kind of where I’m at right now. This is captured in the lines “Well. I enjoy my boat not toppling over in the sea/and my house not catching on fire (Cogan). Cogan is perceptive of what heartbreak feels like and how some of us are so burned by it,we’ll avoid it at all costs. The metaphors of the boat and fire feel like a truth I’ve encountered many times. It’s how anger and sorrow makes me feel like I’m either drowning or burning inside when it comes to heartbreak. Cogan captures these strong emotions in an intelligent and creative way that I’m sure resonates with mine and others’ experiences with the agony and torment that grief from heartbreak can bring.
I would recommend this poetry collection if you like to explore the depths of love and the complex emotions that come with it.
Here is the link to the book:
The debut collection of poems Visceral from Melia Cogan is appropriately named since it will make you feel a multitude of intense emotions internally. As a person that feels intense emotions, I loved this book. The book is divided into 3 sections titled Love, Rage, and Death. Reading this book felt like going through a roller coaster of emotions-from sexy to anger to sadness. Personally, for me, this is a good thing. I resonate with poetry that makes me feel my emotions. I picked my favorite poem from each section. This was hard since all the poetry in this collection is amazing.
The first section Love captures the magical feeling of what it’s like to be in love, make love, and be loved. Her poems in this section makes even the most jaded of us feel like there is a world where love is possible. The first poem “Daemon-Lover” leaves you breathless with the raw emotion and sensuality felt throughout the poem. The second stanza is fire as it states, “With a spirit strong as seventy/As his throbbing passion sears me/ With its ‘blind encompassing throbbing power ”(Cogan, 22-25) It makes you feel like you are witnessing passion on display. You might have to take a cold shower after reading this poem. The other poems in this section not only capture the passion of being in love but also the complexity of other feelings that come with it.
The next section of the book is Rage, and you feel the anger and rage within this section.
My favorite poem in this section is Women’s Inheritance which captures the essence of what’s like being a woman in the 21st century. It addresses the misogyny that our modern patriarchal society continues to administer to women. The poem also conveys the disappointment that women feel after being used and discarded nonchalantly by men. The sixth stanza captures this feeling as it states, “Finally, you who I love with my whole self / Could not display this mythical manly bravery/ To tell me the truth/ Why not?” (Cogan, 30-33). The other poems in this section captures the anger felt with different experiences in life ranging from expectations in relationships to abandonment issues. Cogan expresses a raw truth about anger that most people are afraid to express and that is a kind of bravery you don’t see often.
The last section is Death and I’ll just say that you should have a box of tissues by your side because it will probably make you cry. In this section, Cogan is versatile in exploring the theme of death. In this section, my favorite poem is Remember Me for the Birthdays which is how the poet wants to be remembered by her loved ones. The eleventh stanza conveys this as it states, “Remember how I filled you with the urge/to push forward and explore/To engage life, expanding in all good directions” (Cogan, 37-40). Cogan is skillful at portraying grief in a conscientious manner that’s both thoughtful and respectful.
Melia Cogan brings a raw vulnerability and talent to her debut collection. I highly recommend this poetry collection if you are looking for a versatile collection that explores the depth of the human experience. I’m excited to read and review her next poetry book, Love Pangs. Below are the links for both Visceral and Love Pangs.
Visceral: https://www.amazon.com/Visceral-Melia-Cogan/dp/B0915DH7W4
Love Pangs: https://www.amazon.com/Love-Pangs-Melia-Cogan/dp/B09PHJXX19
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/18/poetry-without-a-goodbye/
cada cuarto está lleno con la nostalgia de ti
la sala donde miramos películas de Almodóvar
la cocina donde me hacías el cafe
pensé que siempre estarías aquí
peleando conmigo, criando nuestro hijos
nunca pensé que el universo tendría otros planes
y que el cielo necesitaría otro ángel
I wrote this in 2016.
Faulkner wrote about her ancestors
She stood like a pillar of strength between her mother and daughter
She stood strong as both of them held her arms that were their life jackets
as they drowned in endless sorrows
Tears silently fell from her face as her father laid in his closed home
And the reverend went on about him being in a better place
And her strength did not falter,
She let her loved ones hold on tight while she tried to blink away tears ,
She swallowed her pain and absorbed the pain from those around her
She wasn’t just strong for her mother and daughter,
but she was a goddess of strength among the mere mortals
around her that wept
Here is the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: So You
Lo siento por ti
piensas que has ganado
pero serás otra mujer usada
crees que te ama
pero es una de sus mentiras
piensas que el es tu príncipe azul
pero tu dignidad parara en el suelo
tienes un canalla y mentiroso a tu lado
que te dejará con un mal sabor en tu boca
no digo esto porque te tengo envidia
es una advertencia
para que no acabes como mi
otra de sus muchas mujeres
que el trate como una muñeca de trapo
I wrote this poem in December of 2016 after my almost love affair with death on December 5th. It’s strange how aside from my journal entries from that month, I hardly remember that month. I just remember feeling so broken inside and like a failure after that happened that it was so hard to get up every morning. I do know that writing saved me during that time because I started journaling way more consistently. I would learn years later after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder that up to 10 percent of people with BPD die by suicide. Five years later, I’m glad that I had people by my side that prevented me from becoming one in ten. I’m glad that afterwards, I was able to slowly come back from this even if I was mostly depressed the year after and it was a fight to get up every single day.
For more information about the high risk of BPD and Suicide, here is a link from Psychology Today with info about it:
I wanted to sleep
Sleep beckoned me
Like a magical place
Where I could forget
Forget-
The burdens and responsibilities
Forget-
The performance reviews, the report cards, the bills
Forget-
The husband, the kids, the friends
I wanted to sleep
So I planned my journey there
Call in sick, act natural,
Take the bottle of xanax
I wrote love letters
To my children, my husband, and friends
Just in case I fell in a forever dream
I wanted to sleep
Selfishly, without interruptions
I wanted to sleep
So I didn’t have to think
About my mediocre and suburban reality
My lost dreams of greatness
My wastefulness on this earth
I wanted to sleep
But I was interrupted
By my husband shaking me
Halfway carrying me
To the couch, forcing coffee
Down my throat
I wanted to sleep
But I had to wake up
And endure the reality of life
I wrote this in March of 2020 as I was reflecting on my suicide attempt in December of 2016. I don’t remember writing this poem but that could be because it was a crazy time for me since I was an essential worker during COVID.
Appearances were kept well for 15 years
the husband, the salaried job, the 3 off springs
I pretended like everything was fine
And yet there were ominous signs
I never felt like my authentic self
and always felt false
I tried on this so called suburban bliss
and mediocre routines
but knew it just wasn’t me
So I ended up in profound misery
And one day I wanted to forever sleep
To forget my mediocre reality
I took 15 numb feeling pills
one for every pseudo happy year
I wanted to slip into a forever dream
to never wake up to my false stability
I wrote this in 2006 for my creative writing class.
The horsefly stands on her shrug
Doesn’t notice, doesn’t care
Blankness spilled across her pleasant face
The horsefly stands on her shrug
Not even a crumble of emotion
In her still hands and feet
The horsefly stands on her shrug
No longer is there a distinction
Between her and the marble
The horsefly stands on her shrug
The sun slowly starts to simmer her
As her wires start to show
I wrote this poem in 2006 when my mother-in-law passed away. She was an incredibly kind and lovely person.
She flew one afternoon without warning
leaving us in a state of grief and mourning
Why did she have to fly?
Was it really her time?
And now everyone left behind
Has rivers running from their eyes
Why did she have to fly?
Was it really her time?
Regrets and remorse
Has become our two worlds
Why did she have to fly ?
Was it really her time?
No fancy words could ever express
How it feels to lose your best
Why did she have to fly?
Was it really her time?
I wrote this poem in 2004 when I was depressed because I felt my husband pulling away from me.
I think sometimes
It is better to die
Than to live this big lie
We like to call life
I think sometimes
It is better to escape
Then face
Such an unfair fate
I think sometimes
It is better to have the earth eat you up
Than to have to hurt so much
Over treacherous love
I wrote this poem in 2004 about the War on Terror. I had quite a few friends in the military do tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. My son’s bio dad did 3 tours himself. It affected him greatly like it did other veterans I know.
Nothing is said.
Only tears are shed.
Over broken hearts
and lost dreams
and the disillusionment
of it all.
We once had faith
that they would be okay,
and not face
such a deadly fate.
We once had much hope
that our loved ones,
would one day come back to us,
We never once dreamed
that it would destroy ,
the most sacred thing;
the innocence of our
children
How does one explain to them,
that their parents died in
a war about oil and greed.
Life on the BPD 