'trace a word' she says
and I trail the swirl of finger tip
down and across and 'Love is too easy'
she says
a blank slate bare back anticipates
eloquent hands of acidic delicacy -
petrarch's heart from cellini's song-stricken knife
no declaration could sink or swim
the tender flood that springs with the pulse --
why spill ink to scratch the river's torrent?
"I don't know' palms glide
the rib-grooves toward 'any words'
and mouth everything I know
'to say'
Author notes
"Nothing a man writes can please him
as profoundly as something he does
with his back, shoulders and hands.
For writing is an artificial activity."
Brooks Atkinson
I've written poems on skin (both meanings), so I needed to try something different. Hopefully it isn't so far from the intent of the contest that it gives offense. It lacks the simple eloquence of the inspirations.
A contest entry
- Skin by Mari Goes.
700 points, ended April 9, 2008, 18 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 26 of 26
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good poem, congratulations on the trophy
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thanks, jm. your little yellow guys look like they have gull-wing doors... it must be that fine germanic engineering.
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cellini? I feel ignorant, but I am a bit lazy at the moment to look it up. I recognize it as a composer of music.
windy, this poem is publishable. so very publishable. if that's a word.
there is a kind of moth, called an atlas moth I believe. they do not have any mouths to feed, so they whole goal in life is to mate, reproduce & die.
this poem reminds me of that artful dance. i've seen these moths in vancouver & they are giant winged creatures. another gift of god's creation, really.
i love this poem, i really do.
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Zini! Vancouver? You've been spreading your wings since last we spoke. I'm pretty sure I've never encountered an atlas moth, though I suspect we'd recognize each other as kindred souls beneath our trench coats. Or maybe not, I love to eat. Steak. Potatoes. Cherry pie. The artful dance of fork to plate to cut and dig and scoop and feed.
You are a gift of God's creation.
Really.
I do. -
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I visited Vancouver about 6 or 7 years ago. I am still living & working in Arizona. I am flattered by your writing, as always.
I love to eat too. I am Bengali, I can't help it.
Message me & update me on life.
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"I don't know...any words...to say' yet you express so much that my chest constricts at the expanding thought and leaves me speechless in response.
How trite to say, "beautiful," but this is.... the "tender flood that springs with the pulse."
~ Karen
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I read this outstanding poem a few days ago and didn't have time to comment. Since then, it appears it justifiably received due honors from the contest in which it was entered. You absolutely crushed the theme the three excellent contest hostesses were seeking. For that alone you deserved the kudos you already received. However, that is secondary to magic you wend in this work.
I particularly like the stanza:
a blank slate bare back anticipates
eloquent hands of acidic delicacy -
petrarch's heart from cellini's song-stricken knife
In addition to grasping sensuality at its core, you wend in complex contrasts, like "acidic delicacy" and the division between two artists as wildly different as Petrarch and Cellini.
I actually love the reference to Cellini, in fact. In addition to being a marvelous example of a Rennaisance cad, he did a lot to promote lawyers. If I recall correctly, one of his more famous claims in his autobiography is that he didn't wait for his lawyers to bail him out of one of his many "tight spots" he created for himself, and instead simply used that "song-stricken knife" on the plaintiff himself. Now that's saving yourself some serious legal bills, while ensuring your lawyers won't lose in Court. I can't recall if he claimed to kill the plaintiff or simply wound him -- nonetheless, you have to like the spunk of someone who bragged about the act itself.
Seriously, Brian, this is just flat out outstanding.
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congratulations more than worthy for gold.
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Excellent, Brian. Well deserved Gold.
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""I don't know' palms glide
the rib-grooves toward 'any words'
and mouth everything I know
'to say'"
Yes....I think it is the way your palms glide that says it all.
Yes....soooooo beautiful & happy to read this poem in the contest - thank you so much for this entry.
(I am very trivial (lmao)....this, I know...but I would lose the double quotation for a single one at the beginning of L11 to keep it the same as the rest of them...lol..thanks)
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I appreciate you pointing it out... I hate it when I'm sloppy.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, the points, and the pointer. You three shared some lovely poems, I was just glad to join in the conversation.
Brian
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I liked the hidden "conversation" here and the words you've used are just perfect to me. I don't you why you think this would give offense at all as it's really an extremely well-written piece of poetry. It's good to read you again.
I really liked this take on the contest theme; it's different, it's fresh, well-written and still captures such a soft and subtle sensuality within it, a softness that is real.
This is a great piece of writing... I hope you post more like these! Thank you for this entry.
~ Nicolette
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Thanks very much, Nicolette. I think I always worry over poems that I work over a lot (and this poem got worked over a good bit). I was worried it would come off stilted rather than capture the immediacy which gives the three poems you posted such an impact. I'm glad you found something to like, though.
Brian
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I like this skin, like it better than the burnt building where carbonized bricks tell the story.
The penultimate stanza is my favourite. It shows what I wanted to see, fingertips replacing a pen.
Also there where you say toward 'any word', a soft sensual feeling comes through.
Yes, you doubted, but still got it.
Mari
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and I thought burned out buildings were sexy... I hoped this would be more appropriate. I appreciate the inspiration with this contest- the three of you gave a set of nicely similar but divergent poems to pull things out of us.
Don't let your toes get tired, they carry a precious weight.
Brian
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gorgeous poetry ... love the technique of words between reading/writing ... so nicely brought together ... >>> Gina
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That quote by Atkinson is great...I mean it's what I've tried to convey about this contest, I mean in how most men will approach it. And maybe that quote fits both sexes, I can't say, fortunately I am only one of the two, having both would prove difficult.
But at least for me, it's more about action than words, how you say what you think and believe anyway without sounding trite, insincere or simply ridiculous? But maybe that is more me than all men.
There's seems also to be a slight placating tone, of saying what is known to say, for that is what is expected or wanted, not what can really be gleaned from that measly inadequate brain God/chance gave us...of course with the words in quotes, I also read that as possibly tactile 'words'...ok that is some kind of logical fallacy or other but I guess you know what I mean.
The poem is exceptional, saying all those points and in a far more eloquent and intelligent way than I tried (and failed) and threw away. I think they had one thing in common however...I used the word "torrent," lol.
Possibly/probably my favorite of the entries, but who cares what I think, I'm not one of the judges.
Title works too.
You deserve a better comment but it's 6:20 am, that is my excuse for my ineptitude anyway.
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A very good comment (though maybe too kind) for any hour. Then again, it's 4a.m., and I'm on a bit of a scotch drunk. I never try to speak for all men, but I figure most are as stupid as me and as desperately striving. I think men are generally more intellectually resigned to life's limitations, but I've deleted three attempts to say what I mean by that. I think I should stop typing, but I need to point out that torrent is a damn fine word, and I'm sure you made good use of it. Your satires were hilarious.
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I think this reads wonderfully and the choice of the first deciphered phase 'Love is too easy' really takes this to a very interesting and effective place...
"petrarch's heart from cellini's song-stricken knife"
wow, what a deftly crafted metaphor, bravo
S3 reads like absract Neruda, nice work again
and the final stanza i find absolutely charming
al
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Al! Thanks for that comment. I'm a little apprehensive about the middle section of this poem, I don't normally try to craft those kinds of metaphors. I think it still needs some work, but aknowing it wasn't completely off base is a big relief. Interestingly, Neruda was the guy I actually thought of rather than Petrarch, but I needed Cellini and thought Petrarch was about as long as a stretch as I could pull off (plus I've been thinking about sonnets lately).
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Your welcome Brian, yeah I think Petrach works fine and Neruda certainly would have been a stretch, it's a very strong line... plus you have a reputation for being a renaissance man so even more fitting
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you got it bad
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damn!!!
such sensual silence and the softness of a man, wanting to learn more about a woman and her skin..
definitely worth the three marvelous bloody clappy men this Brian!!
hurrah
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[has no words]
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