Poem and post on holiday for a while.
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More about the song
This is my old book (published 2008). You can still buy it from my website if you fancy it (go to 'book' page).
Reading in Montrose, April 2010
Photo by Scott Henriksen
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26 comments:
you sound miserable enough to come and live in New Cumnock.
OK, you're on.
I should warn you that half the time I am miserable (see this poem) but the other half I am like some annoying cheeky cheerleader. It can be very confusing.
we've got cheerleaders in new cumnock, too. Or are they majotrettes?
So what do they cheer about?
The "juice" thing is pretty excellent, especially a can of Coke being a "tin of juice". I ask for a "box of juice" whenever I want a carton of apple juice, but that's about as far as it gets.
Anyway, the poem, which I love. (Sometime I'll have to come here and dislike something just to prove I'm being honest!). "A conference on the subject/What might have been if..." Brilliant! Pretty much every line is great, so quoting them back to you could get boring very quickly. Well done again, Rachel.
Apparently this box isn't working so well today. So I'm testing it..
Thanks, Fiendish. I think you and I are on a similar wavelength or something.
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your today
was my yesterday
And those todays are best seen from a distance...
Hope this comment works this time ...
I like this poem very much Rachel. It captures the mood and the emotion very well, but it's extremely concise. I like your use of precise images too.
BTW, in West Lothian, juice was always called 'ginger', whatever the flavour.
Thanks for the perseverence, Colin! I really appreciate your comments on this poem (which is so sad - in both senses - that it's almost funny...well...almost). I know you're not one who gives out positive feedback on poems here, there and everywhere so I am taking this and running away with it! Maybe there is some hope for me after all...
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I've heard of water called aqua municipalis before but never council juice. Me is definitely in agreement.
That is an absolutely fabulous poem. Really, I am full of admiration. Now what about the other Rachel?
Frances..me is grateful for your comment. Sometimes I wonder...are people who write poetry (well...OK...this kind of poetry...) the sad ones (and I again I use that in both senses...) or are we just the ones who are open and honest about our sadness? I'm really not very good at pretending things are OK when I don't feel that way. In fact being as I am (bound to speak only truth) jobwise I would probably be the worst actor in the world. Except Madonna has that title pretty much covered.
And Dave...the other Rachel? She will be back in a few days. She is off on a fantastic holiday doing some kind of adventurous trek or dangersportfest. She has left the miserable queen of self-loathing in her place...at least I think it's self-loathing though that would imply having a sense of self which is kind of what the poem is not about... if you know what I mean.
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Maybe I should tell you how the 'me time' got in here. Our local church (overkeen lady vicar) was organising events for women (Mums largely I think) under the heading 'Me Time'. It was all a bit old-school women's stuff (cookery demonstrations...etc.) and I did not go along (what with me not being one for organised religion and all). I did want to send them a list of other 'Me Time' activities they might consider though...you know, a session questioning our selfish and misguided reasons for staying alive, a thorough discussion of human sexuality, a meths tasting evening...but I thought my position in the village was probably awkward enough anyway.
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Ha ha! Brilliant!
I can't imagine why they didn't take you up on the session "questioning our selfish and misguided reasons for staying alive" .. what is wrong with these people.
My first LOL moment of the day.
Thank you Rachel! x
I didn't actually make those suggestions...well, not out loud.
Good to make you laugh though. Glad I'm good for something (said in best Eeyore voice).
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The tired and waning Self. It happens to us all. 'We are specks of dust in a cheap wind' it can be hard not to brood on our private steady yet relenting misery.
Me is constantly perplexed
by the mystery of
personal identity.
Who is that dust quote then? I don't know it...should I?
Wow, that certainly fit my unexpected trip to the dentist. First time I've ever been knocked out for an extraction...don't care to do it again. Fuzzy feeling not good. Maybe it's why I never felt the urge to drink. ;)
Thank you for allowing me to wallow in your words, on more than one level.
Sorry your teeth give you such a tough time!
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It's all juice over here as well, I particularly like the ending of your poem, cheer up duck!
It's OK Sorlil...even just posting the poem made me feel better! Seeing your own patheticness on screen can be kind of funny...I find. And then other people liking it...well, that makes me feel much better!
There are loads of things (to do with Mumness, people, hormones, life in general) that help me down to the misery depths...but I have lots of things to help me out again too (some of them to do with Mumness, people, hormones, life in general...oh and food!).
xx
Dust quote was from Bukowski. It just seemed appropriate.
I like your poem by the way, very telling.
Thanks for that answer...I do like to know where a quote comes from...and don't tell anyone but I've never read any Bukowski...not a word. I've had enough of drunks in real life.
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It's a good quote though..maybe I will read some.
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