i would drown
once in the school pool with forty witnesses
and me; flailing in a snug pink swimsuit;
mad scrambling for tile, for air, for my mother's
frantic eyes; that is how i would die
but didn't
so then again later caught inside a hard current
and undertow;
it was glen who showed up downriver and pulled me
through the brier patch on the opposite bank
he who yanked my arm
and yelled to shut up when i cried
while his tall skinny legs
cut a thorn clearing
i would drown again
several more times
on a saltless day
on a black night curve
inside a flapping mouth
gaped open like an owl's
m
Author notes
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A contest entry
- shuttled into oblivion by Melissa Gayle.
1000 points, ended December 2, 2008, 10 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
do me.
Comments
1 - 34 of 34
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No thanks needed, hell you inspired my opening line in my latest piece that you read.
I hope to see you enter the newest one I have up. -
Breathtaking.
The theme sparkles in all its beauty and ugliness.
I like the style as well,the longer lines followed by the shorter ones - it almost makes me feel as if I am gasping for breath.
You are always amazing.
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agree
stunning
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There are two ways to take this poem
kind of like going down a river that forks
both stories in my eyes are very dark
but the imagery and your brilliance is no less stunning
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you are always so kind.. thank you so much
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I missed this one somehow. I've almost drowned a few times. The first time I don't remember, but supposedly I just walked off a pier and some old fisherman grabbed me by the hair and reeled me in. No sooner had he put me back, but I did it again. But by that time my mom had gotten there.
See? Your writes always take me places I'd forgotten about.
I really liked this one Mary. Smart ending.
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love it.
peace to all ~flight
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Short and sweet with great image,
survives multiple reads,
what more can you ask of a poem?
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this one moved me and i heard the voice here, the looking back to experience a loved one again... beautiful, mary
~ Nicolette
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from the prologue to the second edition of "Solitudes" -- Antonio Machado
It was my conviction that the poetic element was not composed merely of his sound value, color and line, nor of a complex of sensation, but rather of a profound palpitation of the spirit. It was something born of the travails of the soul: its own voice in vigorous response to contact with the world. I was even convinced that fragments of an intimate monologue could be heard, in which the living voice was distinguishable from the inert echos; that gazing inward, the ideas cordiales, the universals of sentiment, could be perceived.
We are victims, I reason, of a double mirage. If we look at our surroundings and succeed in penetrating beneath the surface, our outer world loses its appearence of solidity and tends to vanish completely, as we begin to realize that it does not exist by virtue of itself, but rather by virtue of us. But if, convinced of the intimate reality, we look within ourselves, then all appears to come from without and it is our interior world which disappears, and we ourselves. What is to be done then? Spin out the thread that is given us, dream out our dream, live; only thus can we realze the miracle of life.
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from pink to purple, to black. i got nothin' with those colors. but, i do have a thought on these vignettes of near death. would you like to hear them? yes. good. i think it's interesting that your mother put you in the pool, and rescued you from it; that the same scold who warned of the current yanked you back up into murderous air. to me, this is symbolic of people who thank god for saving them, forgetting he damned them to begin with. this is a great poem, a real life saver. -baptismfish
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you should be published, now...
al
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This is so strong. I'm hydrophobic personally, so just the idea of drowning had my chest going tight and it was difficult to breathe. But, much like with the rest of your work, I couldn't stop reading.
It's beautiful, and emotional, there really aren't enough adjectives in my vocabulary to describe how exactly I feel about this poem. You never cease to amaze me. Keep it up.
♣ Tegan
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this reminds me of Atwood, but with your own unique voice...those last two lines are brilliant
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i was born swimming, but how you described the scramble and your mother's eyes made it real for me...i was cautious, maybe even overly so..so i never jumped into danger.. but have i drowned as in your last stanzas, i would have to say yes..in a twisted steel morning.
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This is bloody good.
god, I love how narrative this is; it's cinematic, but not cheesy...just like I'm there for it all.
"scrambling for tile, for air, for my mother's frantic eyes"
god, I love that you are struggling for more than just one thing...all 3 of these things connect so well.
"but didn't"
Loved this line & line break, especially after the line preceding it. It had so much momentum.
"on a saltless day
on a black night curve
inside a flapping mouth
gaped open like an owl's"
'saltless'<==beautiful diction
And the owl simile, that last line...absolutely genius.
I've never drowned myself...but I think this could speak about emotional levels of drowning too...god, I love your poems because I can always get something from myself in it
I was scared of the water and was forced into swimming lessons (and was able to quite after Level 4, a bit sad, no? LoL).
Jessica
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i have had the experience of an almost drowning before...and i love how the last stanza leaves the reader to feel any similar experiences that feel that way. i like how this is an extended simile poem of that feeling. i think, anyways, that is how i read it on the first read, but then it becomes so personal to me on further reads as i begin to substitute my saltless day, black night curve, and so on...
it leaves a little open for interpretation, which i don't always like, but i feel you write poems like that very well, i don't get lost in the abstractness, because it isn't 'abstract' but it leaves me thinking about my own life and how something like this relates....this is excellent, as always..
tara
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I like this for the structure especially...so many descriptives then the real message is simply- like unspent life...a thing waiting to happen... anyway ...you got me thinking...which is always problematic...PK
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How many times do we never listen to the advice of 'don't go in'
This shows a child who is now a woman with a strong opinion of her own that still survives, thank god for that C
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I'm really glad that you didn't.
too much fine poetry would be lost as well as it's vivacious author.
I have been totally derelict in my comments and tonight have vowed to stay alive at Ap afterall and not let the outside drown me.
This is a great one to start back with.
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love the title (:
the first two images are so well etched, I can see them happening with all the details. and then come the last four lines, fewer details, abstract but they sound so much more ominous.
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Whoa I have never near drowned before but I could imagine that it would be terrifying and threatening to someone. I think you described this very well, especially the way you ended this write was just enough to shake me.
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i have been in on both sides, the one drowning and the one who saved, this is a strong poem, keep it flowing and good luck in the contest
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<3.
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oh gosh. i love it
i've never been the one to drown, i'm always the one doing the saving.
helen~
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How I hate you sometimes, Drew.
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you slay me sister!
like needle
to sneaky blister
words drop subtlely
in supressed memories
of ancient chanting burns
nothin worse than being told to shut up when all ya want to do is cry me a river lest jerked by callous hands
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Drowning is terrifying. I got caught in a riptide once and thought for sure I was going to die but managed to make it out somehow. Maybe Triton saw that I am poetic and spit me out...
The ending of this poem is fantastic. You told a story that was fairly accessible and then drowned the reader in an image so powerful and surreal that its not going to go away for some time. If I weren't such a freak already this would totally give me nightmares. Fabulous.
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it's like giving birth!! we come from bone, salt, water and air... in this i know
and of this, i am wing
and mud
and the slide will curve my back
beautimous plumery Mary Moo... made me tear up
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how many times did we all cheat death growing up?
lawn darts... that friggin game alone... i would run in between my uncles chucking them at that stupid plastic circle in the grass...
or taking my tiny boston whaler when i was 10 over to Marthas Vinyard through rough seas, running out of gas in the middle of the ocean and then have my engine fall off because i forgot to screw it on right having no radio or oar....
or riding in a car with no car seat for years playing the role of heat seeking baby missles on the daily drive to daycare or the store or where-ever...
and then we made it....
only to suffer another kind of drowning....
the personal one where we dont want to see others suffer anymore...
where we want to take all the pain away
where we build... what we finally understand is
'thick skin' 'empathy' and 'compassion' at expense
i loved the scene with your brother and actually giggled there... inappropriately
i loved this.
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Interesting
I drowned in a friend’s pool at six. It was not altogether unpleasant. For after you get past the thick water breathing part, all just turns slowly black.
As for your later times, these are yours alone.
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