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Elizabeth Cor
Senior Member
since 2000-10-13
Posts 879
Over the river and through the woods

0 posted 2000-12-12 12:40 PM


Burgundy outlines my fingers.
I twist my eyes from color and
hang them, halted:
frozen gore swiped through the air.
And stepping to the sink, swirl cherry
over the porcelain. In the black diameter of two inches
I see faces posed, and text chasing that somehow throbs
confession of anguish
out from, for the provider my elation.
I think of guilt, of red rubbed into knuckles.
Is she really a helpless vine, struck with greedy axe and capriciousness?
Should I squeeze the aloe from her veins and soothe my remorse?
Do I need to cower, suck the apology out of blond hair and innocence?
Offer drugs and consolation?
I stalk cats into stranger’s yards, I studied English and Anthropology, I write nonsense about myself and call it clever. I gush free verse.
My mind is not kinking parallels into compatibility… but:

I remember one sore summer,
darkness slung in a hammock in the backyard,
(my dream the pillow-sink of a full bed and three quilts)
Every night:
the dull, hard punches at my chest,
violent crying,
swinging,
hearing opossums rummage behind
the shed in the tomato patch,
thinking everlasting…
The moon (pushed out of despair’s mouth?)
would slant through leaves
(Kelly green in mid-afternoon, Hunter in starlight; heart-shaped and soft as lambs ears)
but the sweetness of air and slumber could not numb me.

And I believed: this is the kind of pain from which we don’t recover.


Because I have walked into indifference and felt my soul stripped out.
Because I know that cold at 20,000 feet smelling like death and oxen
is somehow less than that which rots at you from the eyes of a lover passing on.
And, oh Christ, because I’ll never claim similarities as understanding…
I am sorry.
Faults will not prick through the insides of my skin
without justifications rising angrily to deny them…
but something must be accountable.
Blasphemy would arrest me if
for weeks I footprinted burial grounds --
wrestling the spirits to torture --
even if ignorance was smeared over my forehead
during the damn long days of ambush.
So imagine my surprise when he arrived:
some sticky gossamer, dirty with travel, flaked on his hands.
Is unawareness a lack of consideration?
Is lack a lie?
I feel disgust at my bias, at my blame, and at the recipient of both…
I am naïve of justice.
If I could create some dream where sense was logical and paradise was
a room with alabaster walls and honesty
(where this month’s hemorrhage would not be crusted moons under my nails)
then I would. And let it be the truth as well.
And I would steal the hatchet…
not just for my benefit --
to ease my eyes of green carcasses and jolting roots --
But to unwind the whole damn tree and collect samplings for planting.
Cage the ****ing deity and collar him.
I can’t declare knowing the story, or acknowledge my asking,
because the business somehow staining these palms is not mine.
Still…
what if I was sharpening the axe, and placing it in treasured custody,
thinking it was for firewood?
And only wanted glowing embers at my bedrest --
the smell of cedar heavy over the floor boards --
never expecting the branches to scream,
to look down at the kindling and
find blood on my hands?

© Copyright 2000 Megs - All Rights Reserved
Seymour Tabin
Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720
Tamarac Fla
1 posted 2000-12-12 01:01 PM


Elizabeth,
The paint and symbols used in your wonderful poetry need me a guide or I am lost.
There is no doubt of your talent. I will read it again, in the mean while. Ecellent writing.

Elizabeth Cor
Senior Member
since 2000-10-13
Posts 879
Over the river and through the woods
2 posted 2000-12-12 04:47 PM


Seymour, Oh there's a doubt in everything... and I was a little lost when I read this, so no worries . Thank you for taking the time to reply. This was one of those: "I need to post this before I think better of it." things...

I guess we'll see the results later.

~ Beth

Sven
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Laureate
since 1999-11-23
Posts 14937
East Lansing, MI USA
3 posted 2000-12-12 10:16 PM


I think that we already are Beth. . .

Superb. . .  

------------------------------------------------------

That which gives light must endure burning
--Victor Frankl


Acies
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-06-07
Posts 7665
Twilight Zone
4 posted 2000-12-16 12:42 PM


Elizabeth --- It's nice to read your poems again.  I haven't been around lately to do so, but it doesn't mean when I come back I am to miss it.  No I won't cause I'm always amazed by your talent in writing, and at the same time I'm ashamed of my envy on what I read for it is of sin.  But still, I'd appreciate some enlightenment on this piece for I too am lost.  It's embarassing to say such a thing... for I must just not have the eyes for greatness or it's just of my plain stupidity that I don't understand.  But still, please explain a little    thanks

I see no changes, wake up in the morning I ask myself, "Is life worth living or should I blast myself" TUPAC SHAKUR


Poertree
Senior Member
since 1999-11-05
Posts 1359
UK
5 posted 2000-12-16 03:49 PM


Seeing as this is at the top again I’ll just say that I’m NOT lost Beth. In general I liked it a lot and the allusions to another poem were well done, especially at the closure (see later).  The opening and title signalled the theme - one of guilt, but the body of the poem clearly demonstrates that this far from a simple emotion - there is a complexity and a history here which makes it difficult to “see” the speaker’s state of mind, and so much so that the reader is left with no alternative than to believe that the speaker is unsure of her own feelings and how she should react to the circumstances.  

There is an unwritten question mark after the Title.

The hallmark of this poem as with many of yours is “movement”.  

From the straightforward opening, dealing with the visual interpretation of guilt a la Lady Macbeth, you move, after the word “knuckles” straight into a series of four questions which though direct by the speaker at herself, draw in the second person in this drama.  The tone of the questions leaves no doubt that the speaker is torn between remorse and a certain indignation that she should be called upon to show that remorse.  Despite the agonising of the opening lines it becomes immediately clear that all is not straightforward here.  

She turns accordingly to her own experience for a solution, and in another rapid lateral shift switches to a comparison of her physical circumstances and history with those of the other.  

There are surprising parallels which then lead naturally on into the second stanza where, with yet another switch, the speaker seeks to project from the immediate apparent physical similarities into a speculation that possibly they share the same damaged origins as well - the same mental obstacles to overcome, the same pain to balm.

Next, with a snap, the speaker comes out of the reverie with a four line declaration, which like the answer to an equation, follows the earlier speculations.  “You have suffered as I - i have been there - i know - in that knowledge I am therefore sorry..   This isn’t an empty sorry .. this is not a sorry divorced from understanding - this is a sorry (the speaker believes) flowing from an empathy.

Yet, then, with another turn, the reaction.  I do like the way this poem constantly balances the tension within the speaker’s own mind, mirroring it.

“Faults will not prick through the insides of my skin
without justifications rising angrily to deny them……”

a certain amount of self justification and even resentment arises and she turns to find other sources of blame.  We learn that she was “surprised”:

“So imagine my surprise when he arrived:
some sticky gossamer, dirty with travel, flaked on his hands.”

And so the third player is introduced.  

If the speaker can’t lay partial blame at the door of the victim, she will turn elsewhere.  Lovely image - is this the gossamer of other wings, or, as i thought more likely, the gossamer of his previous web?

Then an immediate, and this time clearly irritable, throwback to the question lines in the first stanza

“Is unawareness a lack of consideration?Is lack a lie?”

......of COURSE not the reader is tempted into ejaculating!  But now we can feel the tension and speed building to a conclusion.  Long lines interspersed with short and cumulating in a blasphemy as the speaker become increasingly agitated.  Good job Beth.......

All to resolve in the single line and word:

“Still...”  

great use of one word line and ellipsis to pause the reader and hang him/her there before the final considered reflection.  We already guess, because of the frequent reversals before, that this will be another, and that maybe the speaker will yet again reflect upon her culpability.  But this time an element of pathos is introduced, almost a plea for forgiveness and for understanding.  We learn that all she ever wanted was a warm comforting home, a safe home, a home untainted by the suggestion of blood.  And here again I’m reminded of Macbeth and foul play to secure a desired end.

So she sends him out, even having sharpened the axe for him, only to discover that what is brought back is cut in guilt not innocence and carries a burden of pain - a “damned spot” which can’t be washed out.

I just made up my mind ...lol .. this is my favourite of yours without a doubt.

I hope the bleach we’ve being trying to formulate together works  

P

Seymour Tabin
Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720
Tamarac Fla
6 posted 2000-12-16 04:06 PM


Elizabeth,
Well I found the analysis by Poertree as good as the poem. Enjoyed both

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738

7 posted 2000-12-16 04:09 PM


Beth? Yanno what? I liked your poem.


But then? What do I know? I am not a critic.
Nor am I JUDGE.  I may not know Macbeth? But I do know a lady when I read one.

HUGS to you...and to all...

brian madden
Member Elite
since 2000-05-06
Posts 4374
ireland
8 posted 2000-12-16 04:20 PM


Elizabeth, it is always a treat to be lost in your words for awhile, and wow there is so much to take in... too much for one or even two reads, so I am putting this in my library. What can say until I catch my breath but excellent poem... wonderfully flowing thoughts.  

"an afixiation a fix on anything the line of life the limb of a tree
the hands of he and the promise that s/he is blessed among women".
Patti Smith

Poertree
Senior Member
since 1999-11-05
Posts 1359
UK
9 posted 2000-12-16 04:42 PM


quote:
But then? What do I know? I am not a critic.
Nor am I JUDGE.  I may not know Macbeth? But I do know a lady when I read one.


heh...karen ..yanno what .. if you are a poet and you post here you are definitely BOTH in a good way of course ~smile~  

and btw you're not missing much not knowing Macbeth from what i remember at school it's gruesome and the one or two lines i remember usually appear in nightmares .....lol

P


serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738

10 posted 2000-12-16 04:49 PM


sigh...had to come back...Philip, my love?

The only "damned spot" in my life? Is the one my mother cuts out of the National Enquirer and puts on her refrigerator with those hideous magnets...trying to win the lottery, YANNO????

I DO LOVE YOU ALL.

(oh. if you need an explanation of the aforementioned paragraph...e me, it's damned fascinating...rofl...)

HUGS.

Elizabeth Cor
Senior Member
since 2000-10-13
Posts 879
Over the river and through the woods
11 posted 2000-12-18 02:19 AM


Well, if anyone has any more questions, see Philip...lol...(though my Inbox is always hungry for new messages ).

Thank you everyone for your critiques of all kinds and your comments; especially those who asked for an explanation. It's refreshing to gain requests for additional insight. Seriously, if confusion is still lurking, e-mail me for an exhaustingly long clarification.

~ Beth

p.s. Karen, I love you ..lol...

Charisma
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Ascendant
since 2000-09-30
Posts 5906
lost in blue pages
12 posted 2000-12-18 02:30 AM


wel I noticed that your inbox is always hungry for new messages....so now he can consume mine....  

wonderful thoughts and question inhere, don't understand everything....so I think that I need to read it one more time. and the education of poertree was great too.

like them both.

((hugs))
Charisma

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