Life rained
between the shoeless grass out front
and the mint-green tastelessness of the bedroom shag,
hung her on a splintered hinge
the clunk and jingle of a chunky treble clef
dried to grey and wizened snag.
She thought herself immune to this
pox of inattentive tossing
but she searched each gremlin crevice,
lost, invisible
to new friends and bones.
A contest entry
- Repel - Experimental Poetry by cvillelisa.
450 points, ended June 24, 2007, 21 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 37 of 37
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Love the content and the format.
gremlin crevice, shoeless grass. Excellent.
John -
I have to say, after the "shoeless grass" / mcdonalds debate, I'm left not knowing quite what to say but the first thing that came to mind...
ummm... Zara - I thought this was great.
The form itself a bit on the jagged side - but I think that was the experimental part of it. The words and thoughts themselves - unique and stunning I thought. Yes, particularly the grass part.
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The reader has gleaned the following from "life rained between the shoeless grass and the mint-green tasteless shag" that whilst on the one hand there was spring outside and plans that were in place in the hope of fruition in reaching out for greener pastures inside the home all was not as it should be or could be,the duality of the mint-green tastelessness was like an assault on the senses,mint is refreshing,natural,cleanses the breath,the mint-green has the probability of flavour but the very next word,tastelessness,meant the shade of green inside of the home was lacking,the reader felt it was symbolic of the conscious being gnawed by unconscious thought as intuition was within the gut feeling,the shoeless part denoted perhaps that there was freedom yonder,the opportunity to walk in new shoes or even go barefoot if the spirit chose but without balance in the home there was a wonder if an impression would be made by taking steps away from it."the clunk and jingle of a chunky treble clef dried to grey and wizened snag" perhaps indicative of nothing seeming of note any longer,and there it was,discolouring,tainting and making smaller or taller of things that should be undefined or unrestrained,ahhh enough of my ramblings into the realms of this poem,I have just checked the title in case a comment came to mind and indeed it has,entitled lost seems apt,the character lost between that which was real,that which appealed and thwarted by the imbalance between what one needed and what one had the picture became surreal to the point of needing change,I want to play Sam Cooke singing "a change is gonna come" to this but am honestly signing off now before I scare you,bore you or slow ap down with the rambling lol
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shoeless grass sounds perfect. shoeless grass. it's funny when you look in a poem and think "why the fuck didn't I think to describe grass as shoeless before?" it just seems the right way to describe grass. the picture of it's right - the way it chimes is right - so you think why the hell didn't I call grass shoeless before? but you don't think that about stuff raining in torrents - you think well yeah stuff rains in torrents. so it seems a shame that rain and torrents which doesn't spark up and tiny bit of "i feel sad i didn't think of that myself" or of jealousy or "that's how I always always wanted to make rain seem" it's a shame it's near shoeless grass I think - which is very perfect, very. same with gremlin crevice and shone moonlike. gremlin crevice - yes yes - weird, striking - SHONE MOONLIKE - what? Are you "experimenting" with putting something crap next to something beautiful and interesting? That sounds really rude and I don't mean to be - I just think it's unfair to the poem to put crappy dull tired images next to the beautiful beautiful eye widening ones. nobody needs to read about rain in torrents or moons shining or whatever - they need shoeless grass and gremlin crevices. It's kind of like putting Ronald McDonald next to the Mona Lisa.
Inattentive tossing's wonderful too. Most of it's wonderful that's what makes the shiney shiney moon and the torrenty torrenty rain so annoying.
I'm not being a bitch it's just like when someone's wearing a fucking beautiful, beautiful dress and they mess stuff up with hideous shoes or something - you should tell them because it's a shame.
Shoelesssss grass. -
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Ok, I got rid of the offending nounage; probably needs more thought - now instead of McDonalds there's a pit, but passersby can at least imagine some classy joint will be erected, yeah?
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Oh, thank you! Yes, I was looking at the torrents line and wondering why no one had said anything, since it's so lame. But (shhhh, don't tell the judge) I wasn't in a state of taking this seriously when I posted it, so I let it go. Call me lazy. And moon, yeah, the poor ole moon's pretty tired, and Lisa did mention it, but I haven't come up with better yet.
Oh please please please come ANY TIME and tell me when I have lettuce in my teeth. I really do appreciate it.
Are you who I think you are? People changing identities all the time . . . .
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That's right! Tis I, Chris de Burgh. Look on my lady in red ye mighty and despair!
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I thought of it as 'life passing her by, regardless'
the treble clef thing makes me think of beauty degenerating.
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ah, thank you - that helps.
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wow. do you know me?
I've felt this before, but I can't explain it. you have, thanks!
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Hmm, don't think so. . . but it you can tell me what it is you felt, I'd appreciate it, because I just don't know what this poem conveys.
Thanks for stopping by.
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Zara forgive this late arrival
I am fascinated with this
It's like seeing a piece of modern art from a new 'school', not sure of what I'm seeing but like it anyway
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Thank you for admitting you're not sure . . . I thought I was the only one.
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I liked this a great deal as it does conjure such vivid images. Also any poem with the word shag in it immediately grabs my attention; even if we are talking about the carpet. By the way, what a great sentence this one is
She thought herself immune to this pox of inattentive tossing but she searched each gremlin crevice, shone moonlike, invisible to new friends and bones.
However having said all that, this poem seems to be missing a last line and possibly a rhyme to “crevice” if you were to desire such an ending. It is good and it is complete the way it is. Just a thought.
David
PS at a real stretch, beavers rhymes with crevice and I don’t know about you, both words do have a certain synergy.
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Between you and Ed, I just might become convinced that everything I write is slightly obscene. I shall absolutely try to work in beavers. Definitely.
Thanks for your visit.
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men are such inattentive tossers- yes!! lololol
you see, this is where I learn, even at 6.30am, getting ready for work........ the interal rhyme and weird and lublyjubbly enjambment that slips on the tacky green shagpile and the shag too..... ...
trippy, chirpy and definitely new -
right...I was coming back ..
wasn't I? I was..
I adore the way you begin with that image of imprints that aren't imprints.. shoeless grass... wonderful, no matter how you take that it works..
and the mint green tastelessness... oh that goes all over, a tacky carpet, a frilly color, the mint on hotel/motel pillows.. it's a wonderful abstract catch of emotions..
and your description of the hinge, being caught in some squeaky repeat, an off note, a garden gate in front of the eyes.. old bones, memories..
I love the way that one runs.. but curious? in this --
"the clunk and jingle of a chunky treble clef
dried to to grey and wizened snag."
were there supposed to be two to's or was one a too not a to..
to be or not to be.... no, tsk that's something else..
the wording of the last part is excellent.. there's such a dual thing going on in it..
best way I could describe it ..would be to say it's like looking at an optical illusion the eye wants to resolve into one or the other but can't because both images are equally strong..
shone invisible, could be the light shining down, unseen, and it could be 'she' shining invisible for new friends..
it works ...extremely well .. don't know if you intended it that way..
but I like it.
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two to too - I swear that wasn't there before. Must be the gremlins - thanks for the catch.
I wasn't going to respond to comments here, but she knows it's me, from the unMuse remark.
Thank you. I don't know what I intended.
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tu-tu's and twos.. there's a write in there somewhere..
yep the unMuse gives you away .. not to mention al's comment down there.. lol
I love what you wound up with.. forget the intent
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Terrible to hear about your tasteless shagging, really.
start by saying this is fabulous, sounds very much like a poem, but surely it should be in an adult category.
bedroom shag
hung chunky
tossing
gremlin crevice moon
bone
Something about "tastelessness" is bothersome to me, feels mouthy and unwieldy like a chunky gremlin bone. I think there must be a better, sleeker word to lube up and insert there, but I can't think if it right now.
Sincerely,
Evil horny Polack imp
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Well please do return if you think of something.
You're right. I must be one of those grandmas your Merry Go Round guy flashes his boner at - more horny than I would admit - look at this filthy poem.
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oh, i like this very much Zara....
al
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Thank you All
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I likes this very much (except probably that shone like the moon stuff probably cause there are a million poems on ap about the moon right now but pay no attention to her cause she's a pain in the ass). I also think you should ask your unMuSe to provide you with more inspiration like this. Because I want to read something called Found. Upsidedown I think. Cause stuff from the gremlin crevice would definitely be upside down.
Thank you for experimenting. -
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Well, you obviously know it's me, from the unMuse remark.
Moon was what she threw at me, but I might wrestle something else out of her, probably at 4 am.
It was fun; thanks for the challenge. I don't know why I had to do this one; I just did.
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Please may I be exxucsed the comment pleases because I don't know what to say but this was my favourite part.
Life rained in torrents
between the shoeless grass out front
and the mint-green tastelessness of the bedroom shag,
hung her on a splintered hinge
the clunk and jingle of a chunky treble clef
dried to to grey and wizened snag.
She thought herself immune to this
pox of inattentive tossing
but she searched each gremlin crevice,
shone moonlike, invisible
to new friends and bones.
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Six lashings, then you'll be granted absolution.
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gold
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nah, I can't get gold from her - but thank you anyhow, Mary.
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yep, you can and should...
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I'll be back... my brain is still in night shift mode...
for now, this sounds almost irreverant and discordant too... a bit like a few instruments all playing the same song but at different stages...
it has pixie ears to me, impish and happily soured
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oh lubbly, thank you Chilly
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Yes.
You have hit a high note here...of observance.
I like the style and the sound -- John Cage in the beginning ...discordant in a phase-shift (with tea kettles ablaze), but segues smoothly into a jazz fusion at the close.
Best of luck in the contest
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The only John Cage I know is the silent one, forget its title; I know he did other things, though, and I imagine his distress if he were to conceive of being famous for being silent. (Of course he may not have been famous at all if not for that.) Fusion, yes - latin? funk? It's all good, and I'm glad you hear that in this oddity. Thanks, Bobiwan.
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I'll be back.. right now my mind is in too much of a muddle to say much .. other than I like it..
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Every line in this is wonderful to read and to compare to those around, supporting, chasing.
An amazing read.
John
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Thank you for stumbling through my maze, John, as always.
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