Victoria Sackville-West

(1892 - 1962 / England)

Days I Enjoy - Poem by Victoria Sackville-West

Days I enjoy are days when nothing happens,
When I have no engagements written on my block,
When no one comes to disturb my inward peace,
When no one comes to take me away from myself
And turn me into a patchwork, a jig-saw puzzle,
A broken mirror that once gave a whole reflection,
Being so contrived that it takes too long a time
To get myself back to myself when they have gone.
The years are too strickly measured, and life too short
For me to afford such bits of myself to my friends.
And what have I to give my friends in the last resort?
An awkwardness, a shyness, and a scrap,
No thing that's truly me, a bootless waste,
A waste of myself and them, for my life is mine
And theirs presumably theirs, and cannot touch.


Comments about Days I Enjoy by Victoria Sackville-West

  • Silver Star - 3,652 Points John Richter (4/9/2015 7:37:00 AM)

    I wonder why my earlier comment does not show here? (Report) Reply

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  • Silver Star - 3,652 Points John Richter (4/9/2015 7:11:00 AM)

    Serenity, solitude, discoveries about life and ones self, amidst an ocean of others who once seemed indivisible, suddenly found to be hedonistic - an inward love of those in her life that she romanticized, now understood to be complete entities of themselves, accepting the notion she herself was also - and forever fated to be alone in that sea of souls - for they can not be touched - in the manner, nor loving embrace she holds in her heart. How incredibly profound and human this poem is... Luis I disagree partially - I think Victoria is writing about the true coming of age, that point when we suddenly discover that friendships are not complete within themselves, that in fact we are brought into the world alone and will leave it that way, and in the interim there is a desire to love - yet one that is always unrequited, for it can never be returned in the manner we hope for. I think she is saying that it is impossible to love others in the way she wants to because of societal pretenses that must be observed, taking away little pieces of her, leaving her as something less to others than that which she truly is. If I were forced to guess in the extreme I'd say that she was perhaps testing the knob on the closet door, or something similar to that. However it resonates so well with what I have discovered in life. In Heaven I think we become a communion of souls, yet here it is marred by individual selfishness and greed. I feel that she is commenting on that disparity, longing for that communion, but never being able to realize it. But I think your assertion that every word was in its exactly correct spot is so true... (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 202 Points Shreej Kc (4/9/2015 6:54:00 AM)

    This is beautiful Victoria! (Report) Reply

  • Silver Star - 3,346 Points Kenneth Maswabi (4/9/2015 5:25:00 AM)

    A true poetic genius, the piece is full of poetry.Thank you (Report) Reply

  • Bronze Star - 2,744 Points Luis Estable (4/9/2015 4:47:00 AM)

    I take from this that the speaker like the quiet of laziness, the life of doing nothing which is the life that the thoughtful and dedicated mam would not dream to be the ideal life. Most meaningful people are at the hapiest when they are doing something they like to do; the poet when composing his verse; the writing when writing his books; the singer when singing his songs, the dancer when dancing his moves; the painting when making painting and so forth. But the speaker here seems to be at his best or hapiest when she or he is doing not a thing a rare approach to earn a happy life.

    The language here has no mistakes, the words are used well; the lines have no gramatical error and what the speaker means is clearly stated.

    Thanks for writing this!

    Luis Estable (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 134 Points Alistair Graham (4/9/2015 4:37:00 AM)

    Days I enjoy are days that turn to night. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie S Imam (6/5/2006 8:07:00 AM)

    Fortunately or unfortunately, days when nothing happens are most rare; however, whatever the days, presumably they provide the wherewithall for poetry such as 'Days I Enjoy'. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: mirror, peace, life, time, friend



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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