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Horrid


Author: JanePlane
ASL Info:    125/F/everyplane
Elite Ratio:    6.76 - 419 /435 /131
Words: 103
Class/Type: Poetry /Misc
Total Views: 2480
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 801



Description:




Horrid



"with the stranger's seed blooming
into the flower called Horrid.

I walk in a yellow dress
and a white pocketbook stuffed with cigarettes,
enough pills, my wallet, my keys,
and being twenty-eight, or is it forty-five?
I walk. I walk." -Anne Sexton, 45 Mercy Street


Horrid

an aria,
you know?
when that single song
keeps going inside.

it wrings through.
it wears out.
bleeds a little,
just for the pity of it.

violins, too.
rainstorm clichés.
you name it,
sadly,
tritely.

unbearably simple.
like being impaled,
by a steel pole

hanging in there




Submitted on 2012-06-27 02:38:58     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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Comments


  Nicely written There was a nice corralation between the quote and the poem. They didn't look out of place together. I like the voice in the poem, sort of chirpy and sad at the same time.
| Posted on 2012-06-27 00:00:00 | by Wolfwatching | [ Reply to This ]
  unbearably simple
like being impaled
by a steel pole

hanging in there

these lines are amazing, wow.

i love the poem, it's frustration given up, i love it love it love it- so simple yet powerful, thumbs up!
| Posted on 2012-06-27 00:00:00 | by expiring_touch | [ Reply to This ]
  anne sexton writing about her horrid, dried up life--

like sheryl crow she seemed to feel a stranger in her own life...

why am i here?

it should be "stranger's seed"

but i like how you pull "Horrid" from her piece, and then make it into your own poem...the parallel of the life she led...

the kids, being impaled on the result...the husband leaving--the pity, the violins...the sadness...the single song that wears out...maybe it was our song...the one WE used to love together..just like we used to love together...but now it is just that bad song i can't get out of my head...and it reminds me of you and is torture to hear. it is horrid...

i am hanging in there...but in a way...i am just hanging...impaled on the dream that isn't ours anymore---i feel the pain in this one...have experienced this pain...

becoming strangers with one i used to call lover.

jacob
| Posted on 2012-06-27 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]


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