He spat obscenities into tepid alphabet soup;
rearranging letters into long held grievances.
A little girl looked up at him-
he went silent
before continuing to sort his world
by disappointment and mumbles.
Sitting, bathed in autumn light,
staring through garden beds of wilting lipstick red roses,
her thoughts trundled
beyond a fence painted with pigeon shit: Dead
but still breathing,
becoming increasingly mauled
by an all engulfing silence.
Interstate 35
ribbons up through a flat Bible belt
of hallelujah radio and patriotism
until it meets Swedes
just north of Jesus,
just south of Draft Dodge City.
It takes you to an endless horizon
where eventually,
one can careen off
sleep deprived through sludge;
stacking fatally into a billboard
advertising road safety and power naps.
I’ve read the existentialists.
They laugh more than they cry.
It dawned on them
like the blunt end of a meteor
that it doesn’t fucking matter.
It’s just time-
and within that moment
all your eyes fall upon is waste,
all your heart pumps are sighs.
Combing his dustbowl locks
with the flat of a bruised hand;
stooped, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
“How have you been, Mom?”
“Danny”
He never corrected her.
Afterwards
stealing a car,
he drove all night towards the Swedes
until he crashed.
A contest entry
- For My Teachers (5300 points) by just rob.
5000 points, ended March 1, 2008, 21 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - OPTIONS, PROMPTS AND TITLES by my1lovewearsdiapers.
600 points, ended March 4, 2008, 23 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - prewrites by aeolia.
400 points, ended October 26, 2008, 130 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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This is an awesome poem. It is very interesting. The ending was sorta sad. I enjoyed the read though. Thank you for entering my contest.
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interesting and well written piece
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The last two stanzas are excellent. You lead the reader on a tour that ends with a low-key, but high-impact dose of reality...
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Thanks
FOR AN EXCELLENT READ!
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Excellent. And a bit billyd-esque I think.
We were talking the other day about modifiers for Red and how we hate the usual crimson and scarlet etc. Lipstick red is cool. I may have to steal it.
Desiree
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The existentialist bit followed by the dustbowl is absolutely... well , it felt like something had hit me in the stomach and left a huge void (I looked, but my stomach was still there, including the bit that I would rather wasn't) then the ending continued relentlessly. edit The ending of the poem continued relentlessly, not my stomach. I mean relentlessly until it crashed of course. And that was relentless. Naturally.
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L14-23, i like the mix of concrete imagery, and the abstract descriptions of the populace. provides a good mix between the real and the imagined while painting a vivid picture in the reader's mind.
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I loved this, David. Every line. And sorry, I'm de-stressing from 4 weeks at a "real poetry" site where all the people did was rip down each other's poem to shreds. There has to be some happy medium for the online workshop stuff but as of right now, I'm just visiting poems, soaking up the Gift that they are when written from what seems like "the right spot" wherever that may be. And this is that for me. The Right Spot.
Hope you are well.
Lisa
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A poetic story that spews a bit of bitterness toward society. I think you have a brilliant and creative mind to write something like this. An outstanding write. I enjoyed the read very much. I hope it does well in the contest.
Kelli
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it was abstract...we had to read
between your lines a bit, but powerfully it was written!
fearlessly too...the imagery travelling was excellent,
I felt this way travelling from WA. to Arizona by car,
listening to the radio and all their music and political
rants. It was interesting to hear and read this poem,
many feelings were hiding between the lines...
and the final stanza's left us wondering....hmmmm...
pent up leftovers of bitterness in this write?
ears2hearyou
Kathleen/SEattle. fearless write, good job!
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This is different from what you usually right. Not that's a bad thing or anything like that. I was just surprised because normally it's longer and more story like. You did a good job on this one too. I thought the metaphors were strange and a little surreal but that's what made it fun to read.
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Geographically appealing with a mixture of such sweet sorrow as a painful illness raises it's ugly head proving that even the bad guys can be good.
excellent write. -
It’s just time-
and within that moment
all your eyes fall upon is waste,
all your heart pumps are sighs
wow, abstract drama and the knife edge of extremist thinking led to by parent critic after critic (i love the way the zodiac used to be in the bible) into that damm wall of end world, I especially like the way you paint the two personalities one as internal conflict, one as outer and so leads to that strange saddness that radiates from ghosts in mansions every where, stuck, vicious cycle, world within world within world, waiting at that mirror to change it, joy within a singing garden over, memory too intense to change, and yet the question by the sun is still asked,
you have spiralled my mind so i bow
and leave Water crystals
-JAS
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