Raincoat with Four Sleeves (11th Dec 2008, 10.33am)
Cuff me, bind my vituperative hands
in coils of barb and twine, you swine!
Uncurse my words, the witch twitch
unsightly, for I am angered, nightly,
striving to perfect each twisted verse!
Incense the critics, feed the comments,
pour fertilizer on my weedy scribbles,
the twigs will fruit, the quids will come;
I do my best and yet there is still one
who beats me with my own youth.
I am ignorant and yet I yearn to feed,
drink fast, swallow jagged pills of truth
and knowledge, my oesophagus bleeds
in this determined quest; I don’t know
best; my chest is high, my arse still tight.
Help me, damselled in my desperate plight,
as I choke on my rhymes, reflections of
past rejection; without pain, I am nothing.
Prod me with your stings, for you win;
my youthful smile, hippo-wide, imagining.
Comments
Bradene | December 11, 2008 - 11:35
Still agonising over your writing? (: the only critic you have my love is you! You are a fine poet, I wish I had a fraction of your talent. Val x
tinalouise | December 11, 2008 - 19:26
Wonderful tirade of words that read in one breath to create a powerful piece. The rhythm of this suited me and it read like desperation? Like a need for acceptance - more by self than anything else? As if you move your own goal post every time you near it.
Strange effect was that I felt I had read a far longer poem - there was so much packed well into this.
Namaste,
Tina Louise
“The world is a dangerous place. Not because of the people who are evil; but because of the people who don't do anything about it.”
Albert Einstein
jennifer | December 13, 2008 - 19:15
Thank you, both!
Yes, ever the perfectionist, that's me!
But this is how my writing improves, it's my Jack Russell temperament, worry, worry, worry at the words!
J x
Dynamaso | December 16, 2008 - 01:23
Oh, how I understand the feeling. If only I could express it as well as you have here.
I agree with Tina: this is a powerful piece indeed.