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ghost talkers

 

 

brenda and i were best girlfriends

for life,

and this was all decided

in the first summer month

of our tenth year

 

i used to sleep over

at brenda’s house all the time;

she was odd and fun

not odd in a queer or

circus sideshow kind of way

(but that would have been just fine, too),

--odd in the way that, even at age ten,

she didn’t give a shit about convention

 

when most girls our age

were either working on the next badge

or making bookmarks in vacation bible school,

we were late night ghost talkers,

warm under stars,     

fingers on a ouji and 

wrapped in smurf sleeping bags;

we swore we received

fashion tips from monroe,

although we never really

paid too much attention to them

 

brenda used to say that

artists are freaks, and

that’s why she liked me,

particularly my mom,

because she didn’t get pissed

at her when she practically

strangled herself in some macramé owl wall hanging,

or broke her clay pottery while

pogosticking all over our house

(brenda said that if it was her mom,

she would have had ass-welts

before she could say boo)

 

even after the catastrophes that

make up the day of two ten year olds,

we still camped out in the backyard,

watched lightning bugs dance against

a scrim of fog and moonshadows,

ghost-talked and caught a few glowy insects

in a skippy jar

  

i ponder where

the bestgirlfriendship of a ten year old goes

after the many first months

of summer have passed;

i think of brenda often and

wonder if she still converses with saints—

i can only hope she remembers me,

and will put a good word in

every now and then

  

 

Author notes

prompt: The challenge is to select a month and write a light, creative poem in which the month appears in your poetic images.

month: June

so very open to critique

10 edits so far

A contest entry

critical comments welcomed

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
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    : no Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have (?)

Comments

1 - 14 of 14
  • ah, yes...I just wrote a poem similar to this for one of Lane's contest. I had a best friend for the summer. oh, the memories. and you wrote it well. I was so intrigued. and can relate. lovely write!




  • Andrew Norris
    February 28

    Edit | Reply
    I thought I would pay you a visit, and in particular read this one again. It is such a real evocation of those special childhood friendships that stay with one for life, even long after the friendship has gone or moved on. Your attention to specific detail expanded the whole picture in such a marvelous way that I found myself deeply touched and deeply amused in succession. this line 'strangled herself in some macramé owl wall hanging' is priceless, and I remember such wall decorations from a suburban London childhood. Beautiful (the poem, not the wall hanging)


  • Heart Sutra
    February 15

    Edit | Reply
    Yes, this is so real. I ran into someone from that time in my life and she was so different today. It was like she had turned to chalk. It was awkward and sad but I gave her a hug. Then I had a dream about her a few days later and she was her old self again giving me a hug back in the dream. Who knows the affect we have on one another or when? Sometimes it is a delayed reaction.

    Great poem! I hardly say anything in these all poetry woods anymore but this poem certainly sparked a memory for me! Bravo!


  • Cat gold member
    February 14
    Edit | Reply
    thanks so much,


    Mary


  • charcoal
    January 27
    Edit | Reply
    i love the story and the way you told it too.

    beautiful.


    • Saffron gold member
      January 29
      Edit | Reply
      thank you--and thank you for adding me to your favorites--that is such a wonderful compliment


  • Grunts Girl gold member
    January 26

    Edit | Reply
    brenda and i were best girlfriends
    for life,
    and this was all decided
    in the first summer month
    of our tenth year
    (((I found this opening endearing. Takes me back to that time in my life... i wonder if we all knew a Brenda? I had a brenda, but it wasn't until i was twelve. Anyway... i liked your opening stanza)))

    i used to sleep over
    at brenda’s house all the time
    (and she at mine);
    i liked doing that because,
    not only was she fun,
    but she was odd—
    not odd in a queer or
    circus sideshow kind of way
    (but that would have been just fine, too),
    --odd in the way that, even at age ten,
    she didn’t give a shit about convention
    (( I would edit this stanza some... i would start with I used to sleep over all the time, remove line three completely - it makes this too wordy because of your wordiness of odd and queer further down, which i liked.
    so... it would read like:
    i used to sleep over all the time
    she was fun and odd-
    not odd in a queer way......
    and take it from there..)))

    when most girls our age
    were either working on the next badge
    or making bookmarks in vacation bible school,
    we were late night ghost talkers,
    warm under stars,
    fingers on a ouji and
    wrapped in smurf sleeping bags;
    we swore we received
    fashion tips from monroe,
    although we never really
    paid too much attention to them
    (((I really liked this section the most... it is the heart and sou... it develops the characters and the contrast of ouji and smurf is such a reminder of how we want to be grown ups but truely are children. The freedom of spirit is recongnized and that is lovely)))

    brenda used to say that
    artists are freaks, and
    that’s why she liked me,
    and particularly my mom,
    because she didn’t get pissed
    at her when she practically
    strangled herself in some macramé owl wall hanging,
    or broke her clay pottery while
    pogosticking all over our house
    (brenda said that if it was her mom,
    she would have had ass-welts
    before she could say boo)
    ((( take out the and in line four, its not needed you can start right with particularly - this stanza could be tighter taking out unecessary words... though keep macrame owl wall hanging and the images of pogosticking i liked the story quality and the contrasts of lives shown within this part)))

    even after the catastrophes that
    make up the day of two ten year olds,
    we still camped out in the backyard,
    watched lightning bugs dance against
    a scrim of fog and moonshadows,
    ghost-talked and caught a few glowy insects
    in a skippy jar
    ((i really like the use of scrim ... again the youth life in its simplicity was captured really well here)))

    now, i ponder where
    the bestgirlfriendship of a ten year old goes
    after the many first months
    of summer have passed;
    i think of brenda often and
    wonder if she still converses with saints—
    i can only hope she remembers me, too,
    and will put a good word in
    every now and then
    (((I would remove the 'now' in line 1. just start with i ponder where...
    i ponder where bestfrienships
    of ten year olds go
    after many first months
    of summer have passed....
    take out the 'too'... i can only hope she remembers me - is enough, to me by saying it like this you want her to as well- at least as the reader i get it without being told.
    Lovely story of a youthful friendship with the truth that so few stay that way throughout an entire life... things happen and people get separated etc... I really enjoyed this and I am so thankful you entered it. )))

    • Saffron gold member
      January 27

      Edit | Reply
      Thank you for such a wonderful comment and critique--I know you have heard this a hundered times, but you do give the best comments and critiques ever. The thoughtfulness that you put into your comments has really helped me so much, and I used every suggestion that you gave me.

      That is what a contest is about, or should be, I think--it's not about the winning, it's about the community of it, and taking back something really useful from it. Thank you again for this contest, and the time that you have given in helping me become a better writer.


  • S A Adelmann
    January 23

    Edit | Reply
    I just read this again.

    Let me tell you how I try to read poetry (in case I never have ). I usually read it first by reading through the line breaks - I want to get a sense of the narrative or of the meaning of each full thought. Then, a second reading looks at the line breaks and seeks the purpose for the breaks - i.e. what extra meaning is given to this phrase set by itself on a single line, how does the piece work when read line-by-line as compared to the first reading; how well does each line work on its own? This is usually where, I think, the reader will find more layers of meaning, the depth of the piece.

    So (and this is just me), I would have made different choices than you made. I would have (using the same words, which are very succinct and just right) written the first satnza like this:

    "brenda and i were best girlfriends
    for life,
    and this was all decided
    in the first summer month
    of our tenth year"

    It is a small change, but it allows line 1 to function on its own, and it gives line two the kind of weight that kids feel when they swear an oath to be friends "FOR LIFE". Know what I mean?

    I will repeat, these are merely choices - and sort of how I make mine. You have your reasons, too, and I don't presume to be any more qualified than you are.

    I still think this is a great piece.


    • Saffron gold member
      January 23
      Edit | Reply
      That was a very good suggestion, Scott--thanks I made the changes


  • S A Adelmann
    January 22
    Edit | Reply
    I love this. It really comes to life with all the detail. did I mention I love this?

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