She was comfortable at the piano
playing for yellow palomino manes
for rains and the wet-kiss of storm,
for doughy clouds which gather, become houses
and horses, and are dispersed again.
She kept her own time
he stood behind her
like somebody’s older brother, with one hand
pressing her shoulder
trying to get her in sync
with the tick-tick-ticking pendulum
so she sits up
stumbled across keys, caught
in cracks. She falls in after them.
He never smiles, only rakes
pointed fingers through greasy hair
and like a snake sliding
on a purple belly, extends
a flickering black tongue.
She wonders why
she must change
Can you guess what my instructions to this assignment were?
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Really beautiful. And haunting. I love the sound of it.
Thanks love. I appreciate your kind words. About mine.
You need to publish an ebook of your poetry. Seriously.
I second that! I love this. I especially liked the part “…he stood behind her…with the tick-tick-ticking pendulum.”
Do people even read poetry?
Yes, people read poetry! This is a wonderful poem that resonates with anyone who has been made to feel they’re “doing it wrong”–with no appreciation shown by the mentor for the creativity aspect of music, art, writing…well done, Renee.
Thanks Erm. I’m still trying to figure out how to integrate my poetry into my blogging life. Maybe I need to set the poems a little bit. Or something. I don’t know. But you’ve got it. And there is a bit of a feminist edge in there as well. 😉
This is crazy good. I agree with Leanne. Although I want to read that book of yours, so don’t lose focus! 😉
Thanks, Annie! I have thousands of poems. And I could easily put together an ebook. Maybe after I finish this bar mitzvah and this WIP. It’s so close to beta readers. And remember, you are on the list.
To write something stunningly gorgeous? Wow. Loved it.
Thank you, August. I’m still trying to figure out how to integrate poetry into my blog. Do I need to set it up with a little story or just let it stand on its own. It’s confusing because I fel like when I post poems, I don’t get near the readers. Hmmm. Any thoughts?
I would let it stand on it’s own. I love that poetry is so flexible and open for interpretation. It’s often just a framework – an idea, emotion, or scene that leaves a lot of holes for the reader to fill in from their own perspective. It took me a long time to appreciate that, to put a poem out there and not insist the reader see and feel exactly what I intended. But that is what’s so beautiful! You can write a poem about one thing, and I might read that poem and think it’s about something completely different! The author has all the benefit, because now you are touching people in ways you never intended, through no added effort of your own. Interpretation is a wonderful thing.
So do you feel that you don’t get near the readers because they don’t see what you see, or because you don’t get as many comments? Some people may not like poems, but if you post one every now and then, you won’t lose readers. But many people will read and not know what to comment. It may evoke emotions that they don’t really know how to express. Sometimes I have nothing more to say than, “I like it.” I should at least say that, but I usually don’t. That doesn’t seem like enough, somehow, so I say nothing.
Why indeed? I think most of us are guilty of this in one way or another. It’s so easy to fall into, to expect people will conform to our wants, needs, desires… In fact, we are born into that expectation. Every child thinks the world revolves around them.
It’s harder to appreciate differences in rhythm or style. But what a boring world it would be if every life beat kept tempo with the same drum.
What a cool perspective. And thank you for continuing the metaphor. If you read from a feminist perspective, it is slightly more ominous, no?
Certainly. But really from many perspectives, it can feel truly ominous. On the darker side, it made me think of children held hostage by aggressive, abusive parents – mentally and emotionally pressed upon and contained, never allowed to grow. For some reason, I keep getting confinement and kind of like being in a dark box which is closing in around you. Maybe that’s what being in this situation would feel like. No light to focus on, no hope.
Dark and suggestive.
That is the tone I was going for. I asked them to take something mundane and make it dark and ominous. This is what my right hand did. Well done, Paul. How goes the book?
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