Poppa popped me one.
Forearms like Popeye
he twisted one eye to a bead,
swinging hamfisted havoc.
Kapow!
the card castle that I am
oyles away like olive to the ground.
Poppa popped me one.
Forearms like Popeye
he twisted one eye to a bead,
swinging hamfisted havoc.
Kapow!
the card castle that I am
oyles away like olive to the ground.
Interesting. I think it's a good opening but needs to go somewhere. Don't you feel it's incomplete? I really like this line, "he twisted one eye to a bead."
LET THERE BE LIGHT
"Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena
My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/
Do you think it could go on? It was a fragment I wrote for fun, I just wrote what came out and didn't think too much about it.
Well as a stand alone it's not much. It would need to go somewhere if it were to amount to anything. Right now it's just a pub poem.Originally Posted by Silas Thorne
LET THERE BE LIGHT
"Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena
My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/
Maybe I'll let it stand as one then.Now..
There once was a man from Dundee
who tried to make love in a tree...
Or make that..
There once was a couple from Dundee
who made love standing up in a tree
when the couple were bare
they fell off through the air,
that unfortunate couple from Dundee!
Yes, I know its a poor limerick, but it's my first one.
I think it's a bit more than a pub poem. The words have a chewy satisfaction and the idea of representing the horror of violence against a child using cartoon imagery is strong. Not sure it needs more. It makes its point.
There's some potent lines you garnered here in this little poesy:
This line I'm feeling for its beaty swing, I want to snap my fingers sing with it. I can hear this one read out loud, wow.
And this one:
Just excellent, the line of a wordsmith I can see from a million miles away. This one right out front of me.
What a fresh thrill, your poem---reading it, thanks.
"He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll
Thanks for the comments and support, they really mean a lot to me. I also realise that I need to trust in my own writing more.
Respect,
Silas
This is a really cool poem but I feel you're
bouncing back and forth between past and present tense:
popped and twisted compared to swinging and oyls,
I have another suggestion but before I even bother posting it I would like to have an idea of how old/young the son is supposed to be in the poem?
Is he young and getting abused without reason or is the son older and has instigated the fight with his father?
Thank you for your comments.
'swinging' need not be present tense.
'oyles', you may indeed be right, and in this case 'oyled' would be the verb.
Maybe there was a reason, but the violence is unjustified. I don't think the son is much older than thirteen, fourteen or so , nor has he instigated a fight.But then I didn't think too much about the logic of the poem. I went with the words and where they took me.I have another suggestion but before I even bother posting it I would like to have an idea of how old/young the son is supposed to be in the poem?
Is he young and getting abused without reason or is the son older and has instigated the fight with his father?
"swinging" and "oyles" connote a now-ness. Taken literally I totally see what X is saying, but I think that's the one thing poetry does without having to be anally consistent, collapse past and present.
"He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll
Thanks for the details on the sons age and the reasoning behind the abuse.
My other idea wouldn't work for the poems situation, so nevermind.
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