Soap Without a Name

[dyne7]

Soap Without a Name

I touch my face so much,
I’m worried it will wear down
like soap. No discipline, Dad says.
But the truth is, I have it in spades.
Yet like a marble dropped
in a bowl of water, I have
sunken into my body, prepared
in a pure film of cosmic blood.
Go to sleep, my mother told me.
I tell her it does nothing.
Sleep makes me tired of being alive,
and I break into a fever
where the language of my DNA
oozes over me like lukewarm wax.
Am I of my body? Am I impossible?
But then I’m reminded that even
diamonds become dust, suns lose their
fire and die, and orchids have grown from
concrete. They say Saturn devoured
his own son. I’ve seen the painting.
Such maroon. Such tenebrism. Such light.
The first day of red is the first day of dead.
That’s what the guy on the bus said to me,
scratching his wrists, mumbling vespers.
He may be right. We rouge the earth with our
bones, and I’ve buried lovers too many times.
And I keep thinking we’re like soap,
often borrowed, nameless and worn down,
and I touch my face again.

[Jack of Hearts]

What are you doing here? Go forth and publish.







J

[Hawkman]

This is certainly impressive dyne7, wonderful imagery, great pace, reflective tone with it's self-aware intimations of mortality but there is one line, though wonderful to read, the image is conuter-intuitive to the intent perhaps.

"We rouge the earth with our
bones,"

Bones, which seem to be mostly white, would seem at variance with rouge. Had you said the earth rouges our bones, implying the staining of them by chemicals in the soil, it might have worked better as an image, but it wouldn't have worked as well as a sequence of words.

Anyway, a pleasure to read.

Live and be well - H

[Silas Thorne]

As much as I hate to cut this one up, I would like to say that I delight in these lines particularly for their sensual beauty.


...orchids have grown from
concrete. They say Saturn devoured
his own son. I’ve seen the painting.
Such maroon. Such tenebrism. Such light.

Terrific punch at the end, which ties things together and reminds us of the first few lines. :) I love the central image of the flesh as soap that wears down.

Although perhaps you can't remove it because maybe some guy on the bus said it to you, I can't quite get the phrase 'day of dead'. 'Day of the dead' though would be too Romero. Day of death?

The italics work so well to indicate more direct or remembered speech. I'll try to use them too when I do this. Thanks for the tip.

and thanks for sharing! :)
Silas

[Delta40]

This is excellent Dyne. I love the symbolism and metaphors throughout which left me feeling oddly empty. Definitely one of my favourite reads!

[Bar22do]

This is outstanding dyne7! I wouldn't touch a word here. My feeling: everything here is in its right place and all works so well. It flows as if you didn't have to work hard on it, though I suspect you gave it not only your soul and talent but also toil!

"the first day of red is the first day of dead" is in itself a great phrase, but it's beautifully doubled with the later "we rouge the earth with our bones" (and when I think blood originates in bones...!).

In short, a powerful, thoughtfull work and one I'll keep on my desktop for some time, with your permission. And yes, try to publish.

Best of all, Bar

[Bar22do]

ah yes, I do have one nit, or rather, a suggestion - I'd simply title your poem "Soap"; you say

"I keep thinking we’re like soap,
often borrowed, nameless and worn down..;"

in your poem, so the title needs not to repeat it, imo.

Kudos, kudos anyway.

[Silas Thorne]

you say

"I keep thinking we’re like soap,
often borrowed, nameless and worn down..;"

in your poem, so the title needs not to repeat it, imo.


I'd disagree with your view here on this Bar22do. Dyne7 might be better not writing the title twice at the beginning, but there are no other words in the poem that talk about having no name, and the appearance of this word 'nameless' links up with the name of the poem. Also, personally, I like the assonantal rhyme between 'name' and 'again'. Poems don't always have to have special names, but the title of the poem is fitting due to the content here.