Morons in my lane, driving and playing with blackberries.
Blackberries on either side of me, while driving insanely.
A blackberry rally going down the road in front of me.
Somewhere up ahead of me, weaving. Blackberries
typing with their thumbs, yet they still drive
off the pavement edge while they chat.
With shoulder shrug excuses they wander to my lane and linger.
I had not asked to be cut off-they act like they are above me.
They accomodate themselves to my space, nearly flattening my ride.
Overhead the choppers are back, traffic reports by the clock.
Bits of burnt rubber thrown from a blown tire.
My brakes my only voice, squealling, squealling in protest.
I do not think the exit ramp will ever appear at all..
Bright red lights are glowing as someone forces their way in.
I come to a broken down Beemer, smoking and off to the side.
Banging on horns and texting as they stare at the scene.
Their digital blackberries have stunned them. I hope they believe in heaven.
My nerves unhook at blackberries in drivers hands.
My only wish is an exit to set me free.
From between two semis an opening glares at me.
Slapping gears, through the gap I race
up the hill and careen then abrupty, to a halt.
I followed the path between them. A last truck blocks me
from the exit to which I race. Now I race like a rock.
Now I do nothing, nothing, there is no pace.
Within the wash of tail lights I shift to neutral from fifth.
Beating hands on my dash at all the unmovable metal.
Author notes
this is the original by Sylvia Plathe
Blackberrying
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.
Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks —-
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.
The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.
A contest entry
- Parodies (serious or satirical) #62 by Lyndon.
3970 points, ended April 6, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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Sylvia PLATH!
Now, I share your frustration with antics on the road, your 'blackberries' being but one of them.
Humour is obvious. You wrote quite a long piece. Kept with it. You do not have to fear Plath's ghost because her poem is superlative. However, yours is quite a good write, modern, easily identified with.
Thank you for partaking in this contest.
Lyndon of the Winklings.
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tis a bit long isnt it, but it was the one picec I came across that appealed to me. I tried to use some of her wording to give an authentic feel and was happy how this turned out, thanks for the challenge and best of luck to all who entered...peace
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This is excellent, and a favorite peeve of mine! All too often I've had to merge onto the freeway going 40 mph because the pinhead ahead of me had her phone (or blackberry) stuck to her face. Best of luck to you!
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There is only one thing more frustrating and dangerious than some one near me on the road with a Blackberry ... And that is some one putting makeup on in the rearview mirror whith a Blackberry God help us but they're really out there! Great take on the
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I'm glad that it is against the law to use even a simple cell-phone while in motion on any road here. As described, it is insane! To consider texting and driving is stark, raving mad!! Success comes on circuitous routes, but apparentltly they do get there.
Well done!
Terry
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Bang!
Great idea. I must admit that I'm dissapointed that all the parodies are humerous, but then, it's hard to be dissapointed while I'm laughing out loud.
The concept really made this one.
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its funny yes, but in a dark way. the humor is in the stupidity of those who drive and blackberry all the time, and I see it so often its scary, so when i came across the original by plathe and read it through I though it could easily be updated . thanks for stopping by to read...peace
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Yep!
Dark as hell. Whenever I see someone texting & driving, I want to strangle them. I hope a lot of them read this.
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Your frustration is far more lively than Sylvia's.
People don't see why they can't drive and talk on the phone (and what is texting, anyway?) at the same time. At least when the traffic is so slow, people are not killed when they drive into each other...
Good parody, I love the double use of blackberry.
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thank you Margaret. I was invited to this contest by one who holds me on their faves list and at first I couldnt find a poem that begged to be parodied then I came across blackberrying and it was as if the angels sang to me.
I have a friend who has a blackberry and he receives about 100 messages a day(texting is typed messsages on your phone or pda instead of voice messages) we call it his "crack" berry as he never puts it down and is lost without it.
I tried to use the same syllable count on each line and tried to use some of the same words and phrasing to keep it as authentic as possible. all in all I would say i was happy wih the final product- as far as parody goes anyway-
Thanks for stopping by to read...peace Terry
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That's a clever updating of the blackberry. They've always been brambles to me. Picking brambles on our daily rambles. Poor Sylvia's come in for a lot of stick, it seems. She did have a way with repetition, and doom-laden-ness didn't she? But it doesn't get through to everybody. I remember teaching a girl who wrote a review of The Bell Jar. She treated it as a fairly cheerful tale: didn't find it in the least harrowing. I pointed out that Sylvia had described someone as having teeth like tombstones - wasn't that a bit doom-laden? How do you mean? was the reply.
Plath claimed that she rarely revised anything. But I'm sure you're aware that a bit of proof-reading would improve this parody. I like it a lot. It's even more harrowing than the original.
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I proof readeded it did I miss anything?
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Very clever use of the "Blackberry" theme. Y'know, I think some past masters and mistresses will be haunting us tonight, in ire at what we have done to them
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thanks Mairi, and thanks for the heads up on the errors, I wrote this while at work so i was rushing and didnt proof read first...peace
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