I owned you once, your breasts and soft earth.
You were never yours, all the time
you were mine. You to me were like
rich, strong coffee in the mornings,
mine to drink.
But now that I am past the need of you,
I give you back your self.
Now that I have no need of your limbs,
I grant you full access to them.
Begin the search for you,
take back those parts of you
I no longer need.
Be kind to your self. Don't put blame
or weakness against your name
when you think of me.
Don't take me personally, you were just mine.
Find your voice, now that I've given
you back. Perhaps you always had one,
I just didn't need to look.
Touch your warmth and breathe your scent, as I did.
Taste your lips and move your hips, as I did.
Or are you too used up by me, too tired?
Too grey skinned by my soot.
On Withered Vines
I like this and agree with Mac about the first line. The whole piece has a strange and disturbing power about it. I've got to confess though I can't work out what the narrator is. Maybe it doesn't matter. (Is it a young person letting go the old) I do think though that the vine metaphor is a little stretch in the final stanza.
Cheers,
Tristan
Cheers,
Tristan
trobbo44 wrote:I owned you once, your breasts and soft earth.
You were never yours, all the time
you were mine. You to me were like
rich, strong coffee in the mornings,
mine to drink.
But now that I am past the need of you,
I give you back your self.
Now that I have no need of your limbs,
I grant you full access to them.
Begin the search for you. (Not sure you need a full stop here)
Take back those parts of you
I no longer need.
Be kind to your self. Don't put blame
or weakness against your name
when you think of me.
Don't take me personally, you were just mine.
Find your voice, now that I've given
you back. Perhaps you always had one,
I just didn't need to look.
Touch your warmth and breathe your scent, as I did.
Taste your lips and move your hips, as I did.
Or are you too used up by me, too tired?
Too grey skinned by my soot to ever be white again.
Very, very good. Someone either has an extremely high/deluded opinion of themselves or the voice is that of Death. I suspect the latter. Consider dropping the final line in the penultimate stanza and the final few words to end on soot. This is a poem which will surely remain in the reader's mind for some time to come. Strong and quite brave really, due to that chill factor and how it might be misread by those of a more sensitive disposition.
to be totally honest... whenever you feel you really shouldn't write that, that's exactly what you should write.
Thank you all for your comments and advice., some of which has been taken.
The poem relates to man abuse of women. Use them when they're malleable and dismiss them when they're old and past their prime. But, where does that leave the woman?
The poem relates to man abuse of women. Use them when they're malleable and dismiss them when they're old and past their prime. But, where does that leave the woman?
You're probably wondering why I read the voice as being that of death. It's in the second line, with the rest fitted around it. The never and always mean as long as the subject was alive - and really she was her own person before this man came into her life - a small point, perhaps, verging on the pedantic, but it did change the meaning of the poem for me, so I thought I'd explain. For me, though I am sure there are still women in the world who have suffered many years of sustained abuse at the hands of controlling men, and have become so used to it that if and when they finally leave them, they find themselves unable to cope, I think that in today's western world at least, this is fairly uncommon (hence the deluded man). However, the initial effect a rapist would have on his victim could easily fit the bill... Worth considering?
to be totally honest... whenever you feel you really shouldn't write that, that's exactly what you should write.
