He knew that enough was enough.
He had seen too many polka-dot dresses ruined,
too many people who lived off their dreams
and thought their tears money -
people who would tear at their marble floors,
thinking they'd lost a coin,
or lost a person,
or something else that didn't matter.
He didn't like to see it like this
as his parents had gone the same way.
(His parents were the King and Queen of Heroes,
but we shouldn't go into that).
By the time he turned twenty-six
his knuckles stuck out at odd angles,
pale blue and aching.
The pain didn't bother him,
but the sight of the fading tan
was too much to bear.
So he rang the Church to confess his sin.
The telephone line couldn't take it,
and soon the sparks were raining down on all the people
(all the beautiful people sank to their knees
and cried "Let us be free.")
The plain ones and the ugly ones
just sat in their wicker chairs, eyes fixed on the ceiling,
and let out long, low whistles of surprise.
The sounds lifted him, lifted his double chin,
lifted those bruised knuckles
from his knees
and he said what he hoped was what you wanted:
"I am neither here nor there."
It was five past eight when you last heard from him,
when you were on your wicker chair.
He'd called you up just to say,
in case you'd forgotten,
he'd married his girl
and had gone.
Author notes
Written April 8th, 2006
A contest entry
- dear. we must eat the liver. sweet as june. we must. dear. by jaunty pill.
300 points, ended June 20, 2006, 52 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 27 of 27
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wow... this is BEAUTIFUL. so rugged and free .. this reminds me of jack kerouac's ON THE ROAD. Congrats on penning such a beautiful piece.
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Thank you very much for your extremely kind and thoughtful comments. It was very much a story that played itself out in my mind, inspired by conversations with friends about sin and the church and beauty.
Thanks again,
Bella -
oh yeah, i loved the lived off their dreams
as though tears were money,
...living off dreams could seem to be got wealthy off of what they liked to do, except for the other part, tears beign money...brilliant....going even further to the marble floors...i think this is representative of the inner-mind's mansion...not in the real world here. i felt like this entire poem took plac in yr head, and kinda like being john malkovich we were along for the ride. again thanks for sharing, i just remembered i didn't say anything about those images, and being at the beginning, they are what compelled me to keep reading, to see how they were carried throughout. cheers! -
pretty cool steppin inside yr head. it was as though this were a narrative, almost like telling yourself a story in your mind...interesting. coin, people, things that don't matter. i liked the way his priorities were set, like all that mattered was moving on, getting his girl... the sight of the fading tan...leading up to the plain-wickerwomen. the weight of his sin was a little over the top, but again, it felt like a story anyway, so why not have his inner-emotions break the tangible phone lines? kinda cool. then there's the way you went on about the plain ones, the ugly ones in their wicker chairs, .... next stanza, "you" in your wicker chair. nice keeping that going, as though you were too plain & ordinary to retain his affection...heartfelt write, even if i missed the mark, i like what i got from it. good luck in this contest, thanks for entering.
Edited on Apr 18, 10:48 because 'forgot something'. -
i am a bit confused as the title and the poem seem to contradict themselves, unless his lover was not the one he had loved which is entirely possible. i know a few who have been in that situation. one does not necessarily equate the other. i wish you the best of luck in this contest. as i am wondering if this is personal, let me tell you something from experience. the love will last, the lust will not. that is to be taken with a grain of salt as i am really no one to be giving you advice but it is very true. vilanger
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This was exeptional. Quite abstract. Good luck inthe contest.
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Ah this is one of those poems I have to read more than once to get the basic jist of it. It made for an interesting read and I enjoyed reading it again. Best of luck in the contest. Keep it up. Favourite line I think is the one about the marble floors.
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Like a collage, a collaboration of feeling.
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its a great sick TWIZTID LIL piece of work nice write keep the pen flowing>A
anyways ill read more here soon -
It is indeed personal, and often the meanings of my poems come out quite naturally smothered in descriptions. Thanks for the comment.
Bella -
Hi, I have a feeling this is a very personal poem, it is a little too obscure for me, but personal poems can be obscure and only the writers knows exactly what it means, all the best, Di
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Thanks for your comment.
Bella -
this is realli good. it makes me think so much. it feels like uve mixed a contemporary character with a chacrter from centuries ago. i dont no why.
xxxxxxxxxx
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Thanks for such a lovely comment and interpretation. You were quite close with what you found in it too. I'm very very glad you liked it.
Bella x -
Why are the people who want to be free beautiful? This is an abstract poem, so i'm going all out here to nail the meaning - so sorry if i write a load of toss ;p I like the idea of sparks - it reminds me of my friends running out across a field during a thunderstorm. There is something liberating and primal in that. It's hard to find words to express what i mean - as it's not so much 'logical' as it is 'feeling'. You're a romantic poet, i have decided, as you have emoted, and captured a sense of feeling that can't always be described by words. It's more motion. Or even emotion.
I think that may be the point - he ran away and married his lover (in a fit of feeling, maybe?) while everyone else pays too much attention to subterfuge and detail.
Awesome work.
xxx -
Gregor's reading material
"(His parents were the King and Queen of Heroes,
but we shouldn't go into that)."....i didn't care for this line. somehow it didn't flow with the rest as i was reading, but stuck out...just seemed a bit clumsy to me.
wicker chairs is a great image, but mentioning it twice lessened the power of it...it felt repetitive...like you couldn't come up with a new image.
the sudden introduction in stanza four, of the second person voice seemed somewhat out of place...
im not sure i agree with the sentiments about Church, but that is opinion, and nothing really to do with the excellence of this poem.
now...the good stuff
"people who would tear at their marble floors,
thinking they'd lost a coin," ....fantastic line!!! the word 'tear' brings the irony into sharp relief...
"The pain didn't bother him,
but the sight of the fading tan
was too much to bear." ....the metaphor of the fading tan is wonderful...evocative images of sunshine, the beach...fun...faded by 26. poignant lines, they somehow felt Kafka-esque.
"The plain ones and the ugly ones
just sat in their wicker chairs, eyes fixed on the ceiling,
and let out long, low whistles of surprise." although the meaning wasn't clear to me....(and that may be me, rather than the lines), the image you paint is full of sharp detail..immediately i could "see" and "hear" the scene. very well written.
actually, it may be the mood i'm in, but the entire poem felt like shades of Kafka...that dreamlike quality with strange, odd moments, vivid details that flirt with horror.
great write...i thoroughly enjoyed its originality of thought.
~tryst
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Exceptionally creative writing, but I just hate it when a title draws you in, and then the poem has nothing to do with what it led you to believe. In fact, the last two lines lead one to believe that he married his lover and lived happily ever after instead of losing her. I don't know. I haven't had my coffee yet. This is impossible without coffee.
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Beautifully written.
Oh my, wow! This... I love this. The ENTIRE poem but the line 'I am neither here nor there.' stuck out to me. This is such a beautiful and interesting piece! Nicely done, I hope to be reading more of your work very soon
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very good
a very interesting if complicated piece i think it must be read through a couple of times for thr meaning to come through totaly, i did find it a very fascinating read though and very good, thank you for sharing this with us and good luck in the contest, keep up the good work. -
I enjoyed reading this piece very much. I liked the structure used... the story behind the words is very intriguing! Great job! Debi
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To be perfectly honest i don't totally get it, it confused me. i thought it was going to be humourous but i can see that i was wrong. well done
x tragedy X -
i do enjoy reading poetry, on this site there are so many types. i don't really understand this one at all, don't have a clue what it is about. so i guess it is abstract and the lines can be interperted as such. JP enjoyed it would seem, by his comment, he is your contest host so your on top of it with that. as for comments ,,,sometimes it is better to just remain silent, some of us do not have the same prefrences in stlye, content, and in the past when i have voiced honest feedback i am meet with hostility. i will say this one appears to have depth, even though i am not certain why the man has knuckle issues, and the line 'let us be free' with sparks raining down eludes me completly. i suppose i must be a simpleton.
but for every 'me' there will be ten or twenty who tell you the write is great, they will 'get' it even though i don't...and most importantly, it is your creation, an expression of your inner self, with that said, it is surley a great poem.
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excellent
He'd called you up just to say,
in case you'd forgotten,
he'd married his girl
and had gone.
the last four lines of the poem are really powerful and expresses everthing that u want to tell throughout the poem !this is a really sweet poem from a really sweet poet ! great work !keep penning ur work and dont stop sharing ur work wid us !
preets
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when I first read this I thought it was going to be funny,but it proved on reading again and then again to be very deep. At first I wasn't sure of the meaning but it becomes more clear with each read.I think that you have penned a really good piece here, one that makes you stop and think and look inside yourself. Well done and good luck in the contest. Val.
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Hence the reason why I decided to have this contest...I want to be able to comment on the people who enter , Such as yourself , More often. This will give me more focus to do so.
And I know what you mean , This site is lacking in the comments department. Sometimes you just want to scream at the top of your lungs for someone , Anyone , To say something of use.
Edited on Apr 08, 5:06 p.m. because ''. -
Wow..now comments like that are extremely hard to come by nowadays. Really, thanks very much. I'm honored that you like it.
Bella x -
This has a beat feel to it , Which I have always admired in your work from reading...But what I also find you do well , Is the bold and stark imagery , Mixed with a personal and uncompromising feel. You aren't willing to bend , Not entirely , And when you do , It is almost a silent way of making a statement...Putting up the fists so to speak.
The power in your first two stanzas stopped me dead in my tracks. I have a tendency to want to re-read several parts about a million times...And boy did you furfill that hope. Your use of clarity/metaphor/direction is all so fluid and sacred. Like a mans last words. Or someone who might not have the chance tomorrow to hold it together.
What a striking last line as well. Like a blow directly to the readers head. I find that the ending and the beginning must carry the most weight. Everything else has a tendency of falling into place once you are onto what the poem will become. I have always found your writings mysterious , Not just here , But in a lot of the poems by you that I have had the pleasure of reading.
You take beat and make it bearable. you take common language and make it a fairytale slipper. What a beauty of a heartfelt and clouded poem you have spun.
Magnificent and extremely unique.
Good luck in the contest and thanks for entering ,
James
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