Something I Saw

[lallison]

Images in Glass

I touch the frosted window, my fingerprint:
a clear dot on a portrait of nothing,
a spy-hole to the room inside-

A young man lies on a sofa,
his stare unbroken by his blink.
Through the T.V. screen
drivers fire and swerve
popping spider webs into windshields,
the shards flake into skin.
Above the gunshots his mother is screaming about the mess,
a sixty hour week, bad grades, and little sleep.

I press through the snow, the wood,
and over the crooked post fence to the ice creek.
Air beneath the surface makes uneven eyes
twist around sharp noses. Trailing mouths
with silent screams push upward towards the sky.
I slide downstream, tapping at the surface,
searching for a weakness in the crude, discolored glass.

[Hawkman]

Yes, another gem, lall. Love the way you described the frozen creek and the transition into the cold outside from the description of the scene behind the glass is very deftly handled.

I'm a bit worried about you though, do you always peer in at people through their frosted windows? Makes you sound like a character in search of a part in a slasher movie :D

Best, H

[Delta40]

it has such a ghost like quality to it and it is very well written

[dafydd manton]

Cracker, that one, Lall. I just loved the warm finger melting a peep-hole into a scene from hell. Thanks for that.

[hillwalker]

This is really good, lall. The warmth and security of the couch potato existence, and the mirror images of looking in to that world through frosted glass and down into the depths of another through the frozen river, where perhaps teenage angst results in the narrator contemplating taking a step too far.

[Bar22do]

Ah, here it is, I was just complaining you were too silent of late...

Your fingertip is a magician... and your poem a pearl, lall, incredibly well achieved, or - in other words - you, at your highest... I learn about at least three different worlds here (the transitions are masterful), but I learn more about you, your amazing sense of observation, your sensitive, elegant choice of images that immerse one in the depth of thought about solitude, hardship, fragility - differently each time... It's much to be grateful for, lall. Thanks a lot - Bar

P.S. Soul aristocracy is your genuine atmosphere...

[PrinceMyshkin]

This would be a wonderful poem no matter what you called it but there is something about the off-handed humility of "Something I saw" that contrasts so brilliantly with the poem itself, as if there were an implied lesson that there are wonders to be seen every- and any-where.

[Jerrybaldy]

I loved the imagery of the first stanza, the voyeurism of the middle and the switch to ice at the end. Also the juxtaposition of domestic mess with your poetic musing of the ice creek. Was a great read all through.
cheers
Jerry

[lallison]

Wow, things move so fast here these days. Anyhow, thanks for taking time to read and for the comments. Sorry I haven't been on line as much lately. New city, new job, and new nation are keeping me pretty occupied. Anyhow, as for this poem, i wrote it about a friend who I lived with for about a year while I was in college. Mom had left my former step-father and we had moved in with his family. There was a lot of madness in that house, and a lot of people releasing stress on each other, and a lot of bottled up emotion. I think that's what I was trying to get out. This is another one of the few I've written what was published. It's been a while ago.