(The aged mother is a crone of a paper world.)
There is a family of two women.
They own a wooden house where the wind slips
Like reverse rain up through holes in the floor.
It elevates
A tower of cards, arranged like a fortress and several Great Walls
By a whole foot, and then puffs inside
The single-ply pressed-bark 100% recycled room.
Sees two women
Who only ever speak in argument; it is slang for tired love.
They say loneliness cannot be shared.
She married a man once. There might
Have been four children, or there might
Have been none at all.
They can't remember which is which, or who is who.
Peeling back a bit of the yellow wallpaper
Reveals faded and crackling blank sides of love letter
So old the promises within writhe, like
Brown hairs lightly blown across loose walls.
Missing sons and missing husbands
Punch themselves out of a home
As fists through paper canvas;
The empty frame aches
When paint splatters unstaunched through the hole in its heart.
What it looks like is this: card houses stand and fall, as
A weary mother and a weary daughter
Contest wills and vocal cords
Like the Furies in civil war. In paper doll version.
But from the wind's point of view,
Women hold hands in the dark; identical Penelopes
Count the years of their marriages.
Author notes
I chose option 7; the quote was "Count the years of their marriages". Beautiful.
It's free verse.
It took a while to write this, because I wanted to really convey the duality/similarity between the two women, which was what I instantly thought when I read the word "marriages" in that option 7 quote. ...and also because I'm rusty after having not written for several years. Couldn't help getting suckered into attempting poetry again when I read quote 7. (repeat: Beautiful.)
A contest entry
- Last Lines by Keith.
450 points, ended May 4, 33 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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I don't think I could say anymore than what others have already. For being free verse, it flowed like nobodies business. Your words are descriptive beyond description and you've painted quite a picture. I could see the women, in that beat up house... Excellent job!
. Rewarded 6
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This is a beautiful masterpiece of thought! I love these lines"Peeling back a bit of the yellow wallpaper
Reveals faded and crackling blank sides of love letter
So old the promises within writhe," They bring out so much to me. Beautiful write! -
Humm..summing up the thought in a manner brings the meaning of the life through your poetic revealations..I love it..well done..
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This is a brilliant piece of free verse! I can't say any more than that. Congratulations on the bronze.
. Rewarded 4
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This is a very good piece of work. I'm glad you liked the last line, and I've found a link to the original poem for you.
http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=ap6LTaZwrBQC&pg=PA101&lpg=PA101&dq=Douglas+Dunn+From+the+night+window&source=web&ots=7e6QkWohRU&sig=Z85Z6xwF9AyOKSGOT6MBuKhTFc8&hl=en -
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Thank you for the comment, and the honours! I'm glad you liked the poem. Unfortunately, I don't think the limited preview at Google Books offered Dunn's From the Night-Window (I couldn't read it there), but I managed to find another online version, (http://www.arlindo-correia.com/020305.html) for others interested. I'd expected my take on his line to have resulted in an extremely different poem; I was right in that respect! His is exquisite, a sequence of images both jarring and resonant.
Thanks for the chance to participate in your contest!
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