MissOldSoul (or “J,” as she’s commonly known), spends her days homeschooling her son and running her family business—a tiny house glamping retreat in the mountains of Southern California.

She enjoys doing tarot readings for her friends and on YouTube, as well as writing rants and the odd poem on Threads. She hopes to someday be abducted by Sugar Daddy aliens because adulting on Earth “just ain’t it.”

She can be found on Threads, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, and TikTok.

Ahh, Issue 8 of Subtext. It’s crazy to realize that there’s only one more Sunday left in October! And that will mean that the upcoming Issue 9 will represent two full months of Subtext. A small milestone to be sure, but a good one. I may have to start thinking about a way to do something special for potential milestones.

But! We’ve got a wonderful poem by MissOldSoul (J) today, and I’m so glad that she reached out and tagged me on Threads to have me feature her poem! As things have been picking up for me, I don’t have as much time to search for writers to feature anymore, so I’m thrilled that she reached out.

Sidebar: If you want your work featured, or know someone you’d love to see featured, you can email me, tag me on Threads or Instagram, or use the form on my contact page here on my website.

Something tells me I need to have a different kind of post or something to talk about this administrative type stuff instead of using the start of each issue. Or maybe that’s okay? Anyway. Moving on! To J’s poem, “Making Plans!”

Is there anything more optimistic than
making plans? The supposition that
Someday will bear its fruit. The audacity to
dream awakened, as if the whim of
cosmic chaos couldn’t tear it all asunder.

This is such a down-to-earth poem and in such a good way. It’s grounded, even talking about something as ephemeral as making plans. I like the simple question the poem starts with: “Is there anything more optimistic than / making plans?” And this is what I mean by down-to-earth: just practical and realistic in the statement. That one opening question drives this entire poem and carries it forward on that assumption. Really, making plans is kind of a loaded question for many of us. Probably for most everyone honestly. It requires us to know what we have planned or what we feel that we can commit too. And that can be difficult.

And that uncertainty is plainly captured in the next line. I really enjoyed how this first stanza sets up the premise of the poem, the conceit. This poem is about much more than “making plans.” But we’ll get there. The rest of this stanza plays with just how futile making plans can be, and how it can be such an optimistic pursuit. “The supposition that / Someday will bear its fruit. The audacity to / dream awakened, as if the whim of / cosmic chaos couldn’t tear it all asunder.” I love how this plays with the abstract and leans towards the allegorical with the stress and importance placed on the “Someday.” In allegory, fictional characters are often represented by abstract ideas, and I like how this idea kind of bleeds through with that “Someday.”

By turning it into that abstract idea, J makes the idea of the future, of the someday, even further out of reach. Because now it is the abstraction of the thing instead of actually being the thing. This is such a great line, with the alliteration of “supposition” and “Someday” and the dual inferred meaning that is stressed by the choice to capitalize “Someday.” Supposition already stresses that uncertainty. And that uncertainty is dialed up to “11” when someday becomes the more abstract “Someday.” Well done. Oh! And I didn’t even talk about the last half of the line: “will bear its fruit.” A quick Google search tells me that the average age for a tree to begin bearing fruit is five years. That’s a long time. Which further stresses the point J is making in her poem. It’s incredibly difficult to think that far ahead and plan that far ahead. There are so many unknowns, so many divergences, and so many ways things could go wrong.

She drives this point home in the closing lines of this stanza: “the audacity to / dream awakened, as if the whim of / cosmic chaos couldn’t tear it all asunder.” Here, the poem circles back to the original question, but this really ramps up the futility of trying to make plans because the universe could just throw it all out the window. Okay, really, I don’t think I can say it any better than J already did here. I love the use of “audacity” here. It adds a tinge of anger and exasperation and frustration all in one. Audacity is such a great word. I also love how it has a dual meaning: it can be taking bold risks, or it can be rude/disrespectful behavior. And both definitions work simultaneously here. There is a boldness and risk to “dream awakened.” At the same time, the “cosmic chaos” can see it as a challenge and sign of disrespect and it will tear all your plans asunder for spiting it.

There’s a lot that’s been packed into this poem. That first stanza holds so much. But, as much as the first stanza questions making plans, the poem moves on to question that. To see what would happen if we were to make plans.

Tell me, are you free on the next blue moon?
Let’s pretend we’re immortal as we cockily
pencil in a time for frivolity. Forgetting our
fragility, our fears, our frustrations.

I really love how flippant this second stanza is. It takes all the pent up frustration and annoyance from the first stanza and just runs with it. Like trying to plan a dinner or meetup with an old friend but you’re both super busy. So you just keep discussing dates that won’t work, and then you realize you’re years out (a blue moon, perhaps?) and are no closer to actually deciding on or formalizing any plans.

“Tell me, are you free on the next blue moon?” As you read through J’s poem, I’m sure you noticed that she began each stanza with a question. And each question is a kind of stage. We’ll get to talking about the rest of the second stanza in a minute (and the rest of the poem), but I wanted to point this out, because it shows an interesting shift:

• Is there anything more optimistic than making plans?
• Tell me, are you free on the next blue moon?
• Wouldn’t you rather believe that we’re able?
• Have you RSVP’d yet or are you depressed?

Looking at those questions, you can see a process that the speaker of the poem is going through. I can almost see the stages of grief/loss here. Can you? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I can see denial and anger in the first stanza, through questioning the ability of making plans and then the cosmic chaos sundering all of them anyway. The second stanza is bargaining: it asks if you’re free and that we go ahead and plan by pretending we’re immortal. The third stanza is depression (okay, okay—this might be a bit of a stretch). It questions if it’s better to “believe that we’re able” with a list of wants and plans so long you’ll never complete them all: “Reincarnation laughs.” And then, finally, acceptance in the final stanza: “I’ll indulge you, let’s make plans.” Just something to think about.

Alright, back to the second stanza. This one kind of dials up the absurdity, asking “are you free on the next blue moon?” Blue moons are typically three years apart. I love that. The frustration of trying to make plans and having to go so far out into the future to try and find any time that works. And then probably my favorite line (closely tied with a line in the last stanza): “Let’s pretend we’re immortal as we cockily / pencil in a time for frivolity.” That’s just such a fantastically loaded line. It’s like the ultimate sarcasm and it riffs off the first stanza in such a great way. The snark is strong in this line.

The word choice really dials that impression and emotion up: cockily and frivolity. The combination of pretending to be immortal with the impudent and arrogant (maybe even conceited?) attitude to be lighthearted and foolish. Also, the word choice here again is great, because even with the parameter of being immortal, the frivolity is penciled in. It’s not committed. It can easily be changed. It’s pencil for crying out loud. And it’s for fun! But the desire, the reason, the hope to be able to forget “our fragility, our fears, our frustrations.” That final line of the stanza is a pretty major shift in the poem.

And it’s another hint this poem isn’t necessarily about making plans. Especially as we move into the third stanza.

Wouldn’t you rather believe that we’re able?
A bucket list so long even Reincarnation laughs.
Never the same twice, ever relentless.

Read that first line again: “Wouldn’t you rather believe that we’re able?” That line cuts deep. It has hope and despair. Longing and desperation. The speaker in the poem has moved beyond the anger and the fear of the universe and cosmic chaos interfering. This isn’t a “dream awakened” anymore. This is yearning. “A bucket list so long even Reincarnation laughs. / Never the same twice, ever relentless.” The realization that there is so much we want to do, that a hundred thousand lifetimes would never be enough to do it all. The realization that we’ve waited too long. That we let our fear and our doubts hold us back and keep us from making plans and actually living.

And there it is. What the poem is about. There is so much we want to do, that we can do, and we spend so much time making excuses and finding reasons not to do things instead of just doing them. It all culminates into the final climax in the final stanza.

Have you RSVP’d yet or are you depressed?
A walking corpse, too jaded to get dressed.
I’ll indulge you, let’s make plans. Together
we’ll create an event to outlast my ennui,
until I remember myself again.

Acceptance. Understanding. This stanza is the final acceptance of all the denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. And while the depression may not be resolved, the speaker is finally willing and able to try and move forward. The final question: “Have you RSVP’d yet or are you depressed?” While the conceit of this poem is making plans, the foundation of the poem, the root of it, is living. Taking the steps to keep moving instead of falling into and sinking into excuses and reasons not to. And the line that ties for my favorite in this poem: “A walking corpse, too jaded to get dressed.” I don’t know about anyone else, but I resonate with that line so much. There are some days where my depression basically just turns me into a walking corpse with zero energy or drive to do anything. So, I feel this line so hard.

But there’s been a shift in the poem and the speaker. “I’ll indulge you, let’s make plans.” This is the realization that excuses will always hold us back. We can always find reasons not to do something. The entire rest of this poem was dedicated to that. But this shift is incredible, if still bittersweet. It’s not that the speaker is cured or doing better. But the realization that they aren’t alone. “I’ll indulge you.” This isn’t doing something for you or because you want to. It’s doing it for the person asking you to, the person that cares, the person that loves you.

Which leads to the final line. The best line. The most important line in the entire poem. “Together / we’ll create an event to outlast my ennui, / until I remember myself again.” Ennui is such a fantastic word. It holds so much emotion compacted into one simple word. Ennui is a profound feeling of dissatisfaction, boredom, listlessness from the lack of excitement. It can be in your job. In your life. You don’t feel engaged, and that detachment manifests as ennui. Not a great feeling, but a wonderful word.

This is not a happy ending to the poem. Nor is it a sad one really. But it’s hopeful. It’s gentle. It acknowledges and accepts that you are not alone, and you shouldn’t be alone. Read that last line one more time: “Together / we’ll create an event to outlast my ennui, / until I remember myself again.” The single, most important word in that entire line is the first one: together. Together.

This is such an incredible poem that explores how we hold ourselves back from living, because there will always be excuses. They can be cosmic. They can be minor. But all excuses have the same power to stop us from living and doing. And J reminds us of a very, simple thing: we are not alone.

I really enjoyed reading and diving into this poem, J. And I’ve enjoyed reading the other poetry you’ve shared on Threads. I’m really glad you tagged me and wanted me to look at this poem and to feature it on Subtext. I loved so much about this poem!