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| Red Roofs, Marc Chagall, 1954 |
I cannot make myself thin,
no sin-eater I,
I cannot devour
past transgressions,
cannot lay
the feast of me
on naked breast -
grist to the mill
for those who chatter.
No matter,
(for now)
I will bear this load,
add fat to my lean.
Occasionally,
conscience pricked,
I peck at me like
some mean eyed gull,
let hot blood run red,
try to pick clean my guilt
of loving you - but fail,
cannot let you go,
remain hungry
for the love of you,
want to eat you up,
get fat on you.
Anna :o]
With thanks to Tess at The Mag for the inspiration. Also entered at The Poetry Pantry at Poets United – thanks Poets United
60 comments:
A truly emotional piece.
I have a feeling the magpies will be very interesting this week.
nice...love how the second stanza plays off the first...and the desperation too in being willing to pick at and let bleed but still hungry for more..
Wow! Anna how do you come up with such a powerful piece in such a short time? I'm full of admiration!
so intense and passionate.
dripping with major red passion and angst and turmoil and....whew!
Thank you for your very kind comments folks!
Frances ~ I have to be honest and inform the first stanza was written on Wednesday - and then I got stuck...
... and then I saw Tess's delicious prompt and everything fell into place!
Must get reading all other fine poems now!
Anna :o]
Your poems are beautiful, masterful even - this one no exception, a brilliant interpretation of the picture prompt.
Oh I peck at me too...for this same issue...powerful write...
Oh this poem is a great interpretation of the accompanying picture. I especially like "I peck at me like some mean-eyed gull...."
wow..powerful and strong piece..love it!
try to pick clean my guilt
of loving you
That's tough!
the fact that you say you can't reinforces the issue, and makes it so
Awww... there's nothing worse than not being able to let someone go, I know, I find it so hard to do too.
Powerful imagery, great writing.
I have been there and watched, me not bearing guilt so much, and I fought to keep her when the guilt took her too far from me. For me, it was fear of that that stung my soul so often, because I knew from the beginning that it could not last forever. Knowing so, I had to act as if our clandestine life could eventually rise to the surface and then we could survive. I had to act that way to be in it at all. Of course I lost.
Very interesting. Isn't it amazing we all see so many different things?
Love these lines:
"I cannot make myself thin"
"cannot lay the feast of me on naked breast"
"I peck at me like some mean eyed gull"
rosemarymint.wordpress.com
The relationship is obviously close. No guilt feelings otherwise! No easy task to call it quits not with such emotional ties! Great verse!
Hank
I have watched as a loved one suffered with anorexia .. your poem impacted on so many levels ... beautifully composed.
ohh, so gorgeous, i read this as the desire, hunger for a higher power to fill you up.
"I peck at me like some mean eyed gull, let hot blood run red, try to pick clean my guilt of loving you..."
Such a powerful image.
=)
Lovely and wistful, with some images that can be read as quite funny. Great work.
"I peck at me like
some mean eyed gull" seems to be a favourite line, and no wonder... we all do that!
Oh you have some powerful images, and I like the conclusion.
I am interested to see how very different various peoples' responses to this particular prompt are.
You capture the essence of the prompt, drawing on the rich colours and extravagant forms.
This is powerful stuff Anna, I too like the 'peck at me' image. The yearning is palpable.
Wow! Such an intense piece of writing! I love the idea of getting fat on someone!
Wonderfully executed metaphor...really quality stuff. Vb
Precise, concise, and intense. Excellent
The title captured my attention, and the poem kept it. Interesting thoughts on conscience as well. Masterful.
What an interesting "love" story!
This is as powerful and compelling as they come. Beautifully crafted and cleverly conceived.
Thank you for your very kind comments folks.
Just off to meet my lover...
...in my dreams (literally)!
Anna :o]
An emotional and captivating poem! Great stuff!
Oh, this just breathes of blood and life, Anna!! I love this...
"cannot lay
the feast of me
on naked breast -"
excellent wording!
Holy smokes, Anna, this is visceral and vivid. Powerful stuff, love - and what it does to us and makes us do to ourselves. Steamin' hot great! Amy
http://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/04/18/bud-is-bummin/
Passionate...repentant (a little any way :) ) powerful piece
A feast of a poem!
I read numerous responses to this prompt. Yours is by far the most well-honed, precise and evocative. Really good writing.
Thank you so much for your kind comments - they are really appreciated.
Anna :o]
Don't know why I sometimes can't publish my comment. I particularly like the imagery of one becoming fat with past guilt looking for a way to become lean. Well done.
I agree with Rosemary...A feast of a poem, it is. So passionate too.
ugh...felt write...the pecking, the blood..the remaining hungry...strong emotions in this and i like the images you chose to pen them to paper..
Very visual, disturbing and absolutely awesome poem.
it is not easy
to manage the infidelity.
a struggle, the pain,
the never out of sight
out of mind.
great job.
Yes. Nice word play and rhythm.
Your poem reminds me of Joni Mitchell's line "I could drink a case of you."
Thanks again for your kind comments folks!
Anna :o]
so very intense ...
such a cool style - well done!
Reminds me of the song 'Kite' by U2 from -funnily enough- "All that you can't leave behind".
Its so easy to hurt yourself sometimes for very little pleasure. The human condition is a wondrous thing.
Thanks so much for you kind comments Celestial Dreamz, Old Ollie and icyHighs - they are much appreciated.
Anna :o]
amazing... you write wonderfully :) totally appreciate :)
some cut and thrust and emotion without over-sentimentality (which I always appreciate massively). The bit of grit you sprinkle over the roses makes for a more challenged gardener. Dig. Pun intended.
Hi again Ms Gramme - the email notification system on the poetry group FEPC isn't functioning properly, so you may have missed that your (quite wonderful) piece got some more crit/comments
do we have psychiatrist in here?
Anna, why don't you publish them for real? This is request number 2.
Cheers for your kind comments folks.
Anonymous - I need a psychiatrist!
Anna :o]
@hyper
sure you do, your cannibalistic fanasies are shocking even to me, acclaimed liberal
Anonymous - I am grateful for your wisdom and have just made an appointment... :o]
will write a post of what happens...
Anna :o]
Come on, what wisdom?! What can you expect of someone who fills pinboard with pins and trims them? Who is interested in derifling screws only? Picks up snails from sidewalks and puts them in right places so they could avoid imminent danger. Who dilutes inks obsessively? What can you expect of someone who is never jealous of anything or anybody? Who is inclined to fill needles' eyes with liquid metal waiting for the ultimate reward, the full needle? Who is collecting dust in perspective of making atomizers ready to use in any given moment? Who has this unbearable notion to write with white ink on white paper? Is never envious. Doesn't feed on hatered. Who attaches collars with messages to apparently homeless cats and gets responses. Seriously, you overestimate anonymous authors.
/I swear it supposed to be funny. Pls don't hate me. I'm doin' my best./
To hell with that, I've been trying to rewrite Wuthering Heights and here: (catastrophy):
out on the chilley, free lay gurl /look, I know I'm hopeless.../
he'd roll and fall on screen /here you do ha ha ha/
he had a temper like (my jealousy-cut it out) roasted kidneys with pudding preferably
too hot too speedy
how could you leave me with a table set on two
when i needed to regress with you
i hated throu i loved gin too
bat dreams in the night
they told him he was going to put up the fight
and
leave behind my stuttering, stuttering, stuttering
heights
He was sitting right in front of me. Good looking, below 30. Observing my right hand holding perfetly sized and shaped half a liter bottle of water. Fingers closed around it tightly enough to keep it erect. Briefly and very discreetly focusing on me drinking water. He noticed I noticed. My lips immediately moving in reciprocation 'Do you want some?' He smiled shyly and shook his head. Sweet man with big eyes. Little indiscretion of his afternoon, sexualizing my bottle of water. I could feel his look behind me, below waistline, above high heels when leaving the train. The ghost cock made him look, a see through bottle of water.
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