I.
I remember those dusty Sundays.
Laying in a sea of savoury spectres of battle
Mother magpie pecking at my eyes
Haemorrhaging faith and fidelity
I recollect the Ritual atop Golgotha
With open flesh, I cower in a corner
Knotted up in spider webs
And hair on my heart.
My lamentations at Christmas mass
Benedictions in good faith
And Babylon still standing
A reticent prayer in a series of whimpers.
I conjure up again the Cathedral through which I pirouetted
With stained glass reflecting and dancing on my skin.
A frilly pink poppet
Twirling through embarrassed whispers.
I remember a certain Sunday.
A special Sunday
The service of emancipatory words
A harrowing discussion in a bright and woody corner.
II.
Advisors all clamour at my gates
Desperate for vindication.
Mosquitoes falling into my supper
Why not, who not and what not
These three brothers sit at my feet with lopsided grins.
As I sit on the usurpers throne
I do remember two labours borne.
Two divine and grounding thankful souls.
I speed away their misery and leave behind a beloved.
I remember other mourned and worthy mothers.
And here I hear the kookaburra song
As I lay in a red and empty bathtub.
And here I hear my Shakespeare play,
Nut and bolts tinkling out of my ears.
And now my brain backfires and sputters
Here is that stoney meeting and a second glance.
Red and Black serpentine flicker around my sequined waist.
And I revise my scorpions kiss.
All so muddled up, isn’t it?
Not a single memory in its place.
Now I see a logo behind me and a newspaper stand ahead.
Then I feel again that lyrical wind in my ears and feel the first needle in my arm.
My mind is consuming itself!
Consuming my body.
Hemingway would be proud.
I remember the many nights he sat with me
Whipping at my wrists with razor-sharp dexterity.
Good needyness on the top bunk.
Good nothingness below.
Under a silvery calm surface
Fish dart about and through submerged tresses.
III.
When her nails are black, expect withheldedness.
Painted red now avoid her passion, her fiery tongue.
See a pair of earrings glint you will know she is reflecting.
Braided garland on her head, visit with her the Sabbat.
Now, a shattered CD and a ride to work.
A jaded girl locked up in a box.
Gothic erotica blazes a trail across my face
Smudged mascara hails the coming of our feudal Lords.
Cupids smouldering midnight sings me into the underworld
And double double-digits cry out their divine favour for me.
I remember the hired VHS cassette
And the snapping, snarling wolf in my ear as I fell asleep.
IV.
My face cracks under the weight of the mask.
The abuses continue.
Undue smiles on my heart.
I travel again into my random verses.
A Stallone flick on the tube and your head in your mothers lap.
Your 6 year old mutterings of witchcraft, less than a whisper memory.
And then, after noted, your grandmother preaches on the telephone
And your mouth curls down into the anti-smile.
Remember the name carved into your leg
And your ignorant rationale?
Remember the knighted number one
And the first untruth injected into your nucleus?
V.
This happens all the time.
Fireflies pinch my vision
And my imprudent heart forgets not to feel.
Forgets the blade that campaigns to bleed it dry.
This happens too often to continue.
The beating slows, sweat ceases, memories dither as the ticking falters.
So my head ducks down to where it knows it should not be.
My head ducks down and I gratefully expire.
Please leave a comment. I feel this isnt as good as it could be but i cant see how yet. Any insight?
Comments
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This was incredible
its been awhile, but ive found a great poet of very few i would call great, but i know when i read something of theres and i know everything youre talking about, and the poetic words that come off like a song silent off the tongue. this piece needs nothing more, but has left me wanting to read more of your stuff.
Abby
Sid
Rachel
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Abby, thank you!
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I think this is very strong and confident, and that matters a lot. Very vivid imagery.
I am worried about the word "withheldedness" though. I don't mind that it may be a word of your own coining, just that it is very ungainly, and maybe you can find a more euphonious way of saying the same thing.
As for revising it - if you feel you have to then you probably have to. Once you are sure that have said what you wanted to say how you wanted to say it, that's the time to stop thinking of revision.
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Thank you so much.
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Wow! I love the unique imagery and metaphor you present in this piece. It's like nothing I've ever read. It's hard for me to offer any critique, where I don't feel there should be. I truly enjoyed reading this. Maybe others might have better luck guiding you in that regard, but I personally felt it was fabulous.
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OMG!! I am so glad to hear that! WOW! thank you, truly. Guys!
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very strong
by far the best poem on this website. gifted use of words and strong command of the english language. powerful references, particually of literary thought, meter and mind. you are an outstanding writer and if you haven't made up your mind, i believe this is what you should be doing. in short, hell, i wish i wrote that.
well done,
kevin o'connor/ui'connabhair -
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You have no idea what you have just done for my little black heart! Im really relieved to recieve all this positive feedback and also all the constructive critiscm from such TALENTED writers! Im blown away! I have always wanted to pursue writing. Its a familial gift I have though, so I cant take all the credit. I just HAVENT THE SLIGHTEST IDEA where to start! Could anyone help me get published?
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i think this is very creative & unique, i like this poem presented in vignettes, it would be even better & easier to follow if left aligned.
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The vignettes were in an effort to give it some semblance of order.
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Do you mean the format? thank you for reading this freaking novel.lol. Much appreciated!
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i also think 'as my life flashes before my eyes' is really cliche compared to the rest of the poem which isn't at all..maybe just 'random verses -- [ something else]? idunno..lol
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LOL...yeah, it's long, it would be better to the left of the page so you can better use line breaks. it could be tightened up too, but it's good, it's really different.
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Yes, I agree on that. Like Jenie said, the title does need work. Infact, guys, the original title was meant to be "random Verses". Thanks guys!
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you're welcome..
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Wow.
I'm a little awestruck, this was astonishing.
Besides the fact that you wrote a five-section poem which I could not only keep concentrating on but kept me gripped!
This is enchanting, and the at-odds description in the first couple of sections- 'hair on my heart' etc shows how memories get mixed up a little.
Oh it's beautiful, I just looked back again
I think you should create a new title because the current one comes nowhere near to doing it justice.
That's all, I think perhaps you could revise it a little and give more of a thread in the first few verses, to make it a bit more linear like time but that's the only criticism I would make.
You have a brilliant feel for the sounds of words.
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Thanks!
Thank you fro taking the time to read this. I know it mustve been exhausting! Lol. I think what "hair on my heart" does, as you say, allude to the confusuion of my memories. The way everything sort of bleeds into each other and just keeps randomly swirling around. I have tried to make it a bit more comrehensible but it just doesnt work. I cant seem to find a way to make it sound as real and make it make sense at the same time, you know? What would you suggest for the title? -
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Oh, I think as a poet you're okay to lose a little comprehension if it strengthens the sentiment behind it- have you read Homecoming by Simon Armitage? The first time you read it, it's like 'what the flip, this is just a list of words' but then you notice what's actually behind it
And to be honest, the title should just be anything that makes sense to you. I often do really weird, obscure titles to amuse myself. I have not yet had much feedback on this point...
You could refer to film quotes, like the film Memento for instance- but it's a bit dark, so I don't know.
You seem to be writing from the perspective of someone dying- you could draw something from that, so a name like 'Dusk' or whatever could work. [Not 'Twilight' though, of course]
Or an optimistic title. You could borrow from Wallace and Gromit, 'A Grand Day Out', although it might not convey everything you want it to.
No real ideas beside this hit me immediately, and you should really title it as you know what mood you're looking for. Plus it's yours, you should name it.
Hope this helped!
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It does, alot! Thank you. and really, thank you for reading it! Its so much even I am daunted at the thought of having to revise it. lol.
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Oh it does look and sound muuuch better! Thanx!
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Good Effort
I am a minimalist so I find this avalanche of words a bit intimidating. Perhaps this is several different poems
I am not going to pretend that I understand it all, but your use of imagery has greatly improved. You have also improved you diction to good effect. I especially liked, "My face cracks under the weight of the mask"
Keep up the great work!
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Intense!
Wow! So much is going on here.
Much like the title there is a sense
of reflected images that play on the
camcorder of life. Displaying memories
that sum up many complexed experiences.
A very creative peak into your secret place.
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Wow! im so relieved! Thats what i wanted it to be. Obviously, only i would know what fits where and means what and ive purposefully muddled up memories and blended them into each other. But again, thats not much help since only I would know that do you think?
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