With a voice gravelly and tired
(using gravel as an actual subtext),
even my sad old Subaru writes a poem.
This, on a Sunday, on a green piece of paper
darting into the street
to meet its fate
beneath the wheels of a poet.
Bruised, creased,
torn, pockmarked,
imprinted, embossed,
the poem reads like a tread mark
running diagonally across the page;
a hieroglyphic confession,
a bloodless recreation,
my car’s reiteration of last week’s
“squirrel beneath the wheels of the poet”
incident.
The Subaru’s poem, translated into English:
Last week,
in my rearview mirror,
a squirrel dies.
I leave in my wake,
a wake of magpies
who gather in grace
at the squirrel’s demise.
This week,
I don’t feed the magpies.
Author notes
“I accept that DP Robertson can be a complete prick when it comes to commenting on something he obviously doesn’t like – I have waived my right to complain to moderators and owner of this site about his help wrapped in thistles type comments on my beloved poetry. Although I believe DP Robertson may have a bitter and twisted side to his nature, he has the right to criticise my doggerel anyway he sees fit with whatever words he chooses.”
A contest entry
- ANYTHING YOUR LITTLE HEART WISHES TO FOB OFF AS POETRY. by dp robertson.
700 points, ended February 11, 2008, 23 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Many thanks to you for the ugly green trophy, but more so the comments, as I feel to gain a positive remark from you means more than a gold in some other less-discerning contest.
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Bruised, creased, torn, pockmarked, imprinted, embossed, the poem reads like a tread mark running diagonally across the page;
I like this, you had me with the title and the way it has been structured. This is good work.
David
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Since you were kind enough to read my beautiful poem, "The Consulation", and make some marginally petty but also marginally constructive comments, I thought it would be only courteous to come over and repay the compliment. So here I am.
Well, it is nice to read something which is not littered with grammatical and spelling errors. That is so unusual at this site that I am ecstatic with orgasmic glee. The poem is quite pleasant and mildly wry. Not exactly great but quite OK.
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I very much appreciate the comments. I know what you mean about the grammatical and spelling errors that generally permeate this site. I give you great credit for accepting my comments to the degree that you have, as I am only one person with my particular perspective. I noticed you have quite a few admirers of that poem. At any rate, my respect for you has gone up a notch or three. Again, thanks.
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