Never mind the saints, here's a newish poem. Not sure what I make of it myself.
Danger
Oh, she has done some terrible things
I heard she drank a vat of vodka
Laid herself out on a slab, to be troughed
She slept when she should have woken
Stayed up when she should have slept
She's a disgrace, really
Nothing more to be said
Some people don't trust her
And you know, I don't blame them
She has mislaid friends (casually)
Sold precious jewels (flippantly)
And she has covered her tracks
But they glow, oh, how they shine
RF 2009
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28 comments:
I like the edge this has. I'm walking along it and I don't know which side I'll fall in my feelings about her.
I particularly like the last four lines, and that final one especially.
I like it, would like "To hell with the sainthood" as a title for it as a poem as well, but I suppose that kind of makes a judgement before you start. Nice anyway.
Glad you like the last line, T, as I changed it at the last minute (quite a few times). It was 'they glow, oh, how they glow' and quite a few other variations.
The ambiguity in your response is good too. As I said I don't really know what I think about this either.
The title has changed a few times too, Niamh. It was 'I don't know her' and then 'A danger to us all' and then just 'Danger'.
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Very true to life. It reminds me of a friend of mine.
Life, yes. Back on the human nature poetry tack I think.
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Not sure what to make of it Rachel? I would say it spells out a life pretty well lived to the full.
Weaver of wisdom...that's what you are.
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That, Rachel, is why we have to write...
'Who will love us when we are gone,
who will know how once we shone?'
Well, I think this has touches of brilliance, and I really mean that. But for me it loses its momentum after 'She's a disgrace...' I'm not sure about the hiatuses and the isolated middle line. Surely it's pivotal, the way you've presented it? But it doesn't seem to bear that weight. Then, at the line 'She has mislaid friends...' it really picks up again, and the last line is terrific.
how about 'tried to cover her tracks, but they.....'
Like it
I wondered who TFE was quoting but apparently it's himself. If you were wondering.
SW - the isolated middle line was a very last minute change (it was just the last line of the first verse). If others feel the same maybe it can slip back to its original position. I don't feel strongly about it (for once). And even 'touches of brilliance' will do me! Absolutely.
I see what you mean, Shug, with the 'tried' and it's a fair idea. I'll sleep on it.
Glad some of you are liking it. As I said I wasn't sure.
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This is great Rachel - I really loved it!
Very gossipy, "careless talk cost lives" and all that..."on a slab" ..like a fish.."fish wofe"...I like it.
Gleaner - I am constantly surprised by which poems people respond best to! And that's good I suppose. I'm not quite sure why I put this up today. I must have had a reason...somewhere.
Rachel - one day...if you're ever here for a cuppa...I'll tell you where the slab comes from. It has its origin in a 'one dark night' story. Not a pleasant story.
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I love this one. It reminds me of someone in my life whose wild ways left everyone talking and shaking their heads...and (I'm convinced) secretly admiring her and wishing they weren't afraid to be the same.
Such people do create ambivalence; we can condemn and envy them at the same time--so I think your words here have her spot on.
Thanks Susan. I know her quite well.
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I can see them saying this in the queue at Tescos. I'll raise my gin to her this pm......
And cheers to you, A!
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Ooh, this is good, Ms. Fox! I love the glowing tracks.
Thanks Jeanne. Funny...I had no plans for the end...that just popped out. I suppose it knew what it was doing...
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Oh, I liked this... it just feels real, you know? And the last line is perfect.
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Thanks RB (and hi!). I know some people are better at fantasy and stuff like that but real is my subject matter, I suppose. Real and now and all that. We all have our areas...
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last line's the one that does it for me
I did not read all the comments
As a poem, it rings true
It pulls me in
I don't stumble on it
I want to know the speaker
I feel I have been the writer
I hope the future grows from the writer's hopes
Perfect, keep sending it
Now...what shall I do with it? Not really postcard material. Well, not a card I'd ever send.
Maybe there will be another book one day after all. I keep thinking of titles. Ominous.
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Ooh nice ending!
I wonder what it means to be 'troughed'. I really don't know and you may not wish to say... mystique and all that.
I have an image of a plough and a furrow and... then it all gets kinda rude... Oh dear, reject this comment if you need to, I appear to have gone off the rails again. :)
No, Ken, you're perfectly in the right furrow there. Nothing pretty going on.
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