An entire six hours since last I blogged. . . sorry, Shakespeare on the brain.
I'm sick, which my mother reminds me is normal for this time of the semester. I forget to eat well, sleep well, eat and sleep at all, and take my vitamins. Let's face it--after you pass the stage where vitamins look like circus animals or Fred Flinstone, what's the point? I'm just crossing my fingers that I don't lose my voice this time around. I'm not sure I'm up to teaching in mime.
((((((((())))))))
I'm terribly annoyed today because, in addition to being sniffly, I can't work out a poem that's been haunting me for months that I pulled out again. The worst part is I submitted it for my 518 workshop. I hate to workshop anything that's not ready, but nothing was and I had to have "three to five" poems. I don't even know what it's about. And I'm pretty sure what I have right now is actually two different poems, even though it would be the same speaker. Huh. It might be a series, or part of a series at least.
I might regret this. I probably will regret this, but the poem/poems/poem pieces are following. If you know what I'm writing about, please let me know. Cheers.
When he goes quiet
removes his hands from my shoulders
I finally know him
the smile dropped from his face
his shoulders taut
back hunched in religious devotion.
He prays in his poetry,
makes me the virgin mary—
lowercased, abused—
when all I ask
is the few drops of oil
to give him light.
Looking at it, I know the last three lines are going to have to go. Where, I'm not sure. And it was originally, "He prays in his poetry / and this is not a love song". Any takers?
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1 comments:
2 cents: I think that the subject, the 'he,' if you will, needs to be a little more clearly defined, which I think will, in turn, better define the relationship between the narrator and the 'he.' This poem seems to have a lot of narrative that's missing, however, the diction is beautiful. Good job. If I could give you a 100% turned into a smilie face with the 00s as eyes, I would.
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