When first I saw her and was caught
Head turning like a preying mantis
To follow her progress,
of her effect, she was conscious.
My friend laughed and said,
“Oh, aye, she’s hot.”
She was not.
Astounded beyond belief when she saw me
Some talk of all the air leaving the room,
All of me left for her.
Nothing remained.
The walk and work and talk for her
The fucking sublime
and art we made
and I built for her,
Was me in her.
She held me gently by my penis
And drew me slowly onto the knife
That drove up through my guts into my heart
And left for another
Who might further her ambitions.
She never gave me back to me.
and yet, after recreating myself,
I would have missed none of her for quids.
Comments
oooow
Thats got a combustive sizzle to it. I really like this theme of left emptied and desolate, a poor puddle of pain by the aftermath of unrequited love. I think all in all it would have more traction if it was paired down a bit, While I acknowledge the concept of prose poetry I tend not be a fan unless it is a ripping rant
My bias dictates that this piece wants to be more musical I always love chewing over others writing so hope you dont mind
When first I saw her and was caught
Head turning like a preying mantis
To follow her progress,
of her effect, she was conscious.
EX of what I'm thinking
seeing her
stopped dead
my head spun like a preying mantis
attending her every enticement
her eyes peeled like binocular lasers...instead of conscious; in other words to personify her state of mind and penetrating observation
…..
Am I making sense. I guess I wanted to see paired down language; incised and buoyed up a bit
Just my opinion
Best Z
[grins] Ta, Mark and Z.
My truth is somewhere between and askew of both of you. It was not just a sad, bad relationship, it was incredibly intense. Even in her near sociopathic manipulativeness she fucked like a wildcat in a thunderstorm. So I'm glad some of the sizzle came across. There was complexity to it as well, we made art together, hence a conflict with paring it down.
Did I mention she was married and told me from the outset she would not leave her husband? She drove him off instead. I think that poor bastard got it worse than me.
Like I said, I never thought it was love but I was as utterly powerless as a rock to defy gravity. Excruciating pain I would not have missed for quids. It happened over thirty years ago and this poem was prompted by an extraordinarily vivid, lucid dream of her the other night. And something I read yesterday-
"Symbolism was born out of this inward search as writers and artists portrayed the longings and nightmares which epitomized the preoccupations of the fin de siècle— death and frustration, union and conflict of the sexes, cruel or superfluous beauty, the fatal woman, the siren and the sphinx."
From 'Symbolists and Decadents' by John Milner
"cruel or superfluous beauty", yep, that was Lyndel, who was never mine.
Its a amazing how there are
Its a amazing how there are some you never forget no matter how the years roll on
I was 28 she was 17 and omg so hot ...incredibly sexy cuddly and loveable Big cat blue eyes , skin like baby butter tan silk ...I was stupid for her....I always wonder what has become of her in her 60s now
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
Ocean Vuong
Last line
This is to me the totality of this poem and as such needs to be really strong.Now it's OK as is but would "She never gave me back........me" be better?
Absolutely! Thank you Sir Stan
I knew it was wrong but couldn't see how to right it.
Much appreciated.
That's
what we're here to do, help one another
she fucked like a wildcat in
she fucked like a wildcat in a thunderstorm,,,
Thats a line naturally intuitive to your poems intention it seems to me. It lets the reader know how deep the desire and passion and to my mind more than any line you wrote lets the reader into your obsession ...Why not integrate it into the poem and then rewrite around it with lines as poignant as that
It kicks ass
Z
because it's not mine
it was said by Neil Gaiman of his partner Amanda Fucking Palmer. Although it was in a public address, not published.
But something of my own to highlight the 'combustive sizzle' I will ponder on. Twice you've suggested a rewrite rather than a revision... I'm gonna step back from it for a bit and see if my reluctance is substantial.
Revision re write forgive I
Revision re write forgive I just mean chew over it a bit
it is good...
the castration feeling in a that image is a bit awkward for me...ouch.
I just felt this line was awkward:
Who might further her wants.
just feels a bit flat. Also, I would consider using the last line as the first. It's a good come-on line.
Weirdelf
Glad I found this one. I know you won’t be back till Dec. but. . . I not only loved this, I felt it on a personal level as I have had the same experience. Many years ago. No one was married but it was a hit upside the head with a bus. A collision no one could have avoided.
You got me. Nothing more to comment about. Brilliant.
Thanks Kim,
Finally, someone got it instead of trying to impose their own dysfunction on it.
Kim, I would dearly love your feedback
in my my new workshop. You're an experienced Neopoet and have much to offer.
the last line
the last line of this poem gave me chills. : she never gave me back to me" power! now granted, the poem was cool.... but that line did something to me
Yes, Queen,
it sure as hell did something to me.
Reading your poem jess
I feel
like an empty
hollow poet
Well, I see by your postings
that you have not accepted my challenge to write serious, thought out poetry instead of your usual 'machine gun' effect.
No wonder you feel hollow.
And yet, though she never gave me back to me,
the essence of Friedrich Nietzsche's
"That which does not kill us makes us stronger."
is somehow instilled yet I clearly fail to convey it in the poem,
except that I survived to write it.