Poetry Forum

edited version
This morning I took a step outside
the urgency of the queue and stopped.
The complaints behind me crescendoed,

but I ignored their demands to move,
to let the conveyor belt continue
regurgitating wine and TV dinners.

They fenced me in with trolleys, steered
customers to a new till, where a girl named Amber
apologised for my static behaviour.

After they wheeled me away,
strapped in for my own safety,
they tried to peel back my reasons

but didn’t think to strip away the layers
of bank holiday specials, bogofs,
and clubcard points that cocooned me

and it was impossible to explain
that all I wanted was to wait a while,
to catch my breath before I stepped again.


original
This morning I stopped, stepped outside
the urgency of the checkout queue.
Listened to the crescendoing complaints
behind me. Teabags in hand, I ignored their pleas
to move, to let the conveyor belt continue
its endless regurgitation of wine and TV dinners.
They fenced me in with shopping trolleys, steered
customers to a new till, where a girl named Tracey
apologised for my static behaviour.

After they wheeled me away, strapped in
for my own safety, they tried to peel back
my reasons. But it seemed impossible to explain
that all I wanted to do was wait a while,
catch my breath, until I felt the need to move.

Don't shop at Tesco's is my advice. Nice idea but I think you require a bigger, better pay off at the end.
Maybe "This morning....behind me" should be all one sentence with "and" between queue and listened.
I liked the fencing in with shopping trolleys and being wheeled away whilst strapped down but I do feel let down in consequence. Maybe you need a special offer gone wrong or something. It must be awful to be called Tracey.

Yup, we have all had days like that I am sure.
As usual, a few thoughts for you to chuck around or away as you wish. Thinking about pacing mainly:

This morning I stopped.
Stepped outside the urgency
of the checkout queue and stopped.
I listened to the crescendoing complaints
behind me and, teabags in hand,
ignored their pleas to move,
to let the conveyor belt continue its endless
regurgitation of wine and TV dinners.
They fenced me in with shopping trolleys, steered
customers to a new till, where a girl named Tracey
apologised for my static behaviour.

After they wheeled me away, strapped in
for my own safety, they tried to peel back
my reasons. But it was* impossible to explain
that all I wanted to do was wait a while,
catch my breath, until I felt the need to move.


*"Let be be finale of seem."

B.

~

Oh yeah, one other thing: "Tracey"? You're better than that I think . . .

B.

~

Thanks guys
Ray, I hate Tesco's actually hehe.
Yes you could be right about that sentence, i was trying to make it feel stop start, but maybe its not needed. I'll have a think about the ending, although I was going for an anti-climatic feel that everyone thought it was a big deal while the N didn't recognise that.
Brian, some good suggestions there, what's interesting is I did have another line in after 'urgency of checkout queue' about pausing while the shoppers poured in through the doors, and cut it. I also had was impossible and swapped to seem, so I'll def change that back.
And Tracey, yes well I sat here agonising over names for about 10 mins but couldn't decide, so went for the cliche - i had Kylie, Donna, Elaine, Marge, Sue, Brenda...... etc

Sharra
xx

Why not use the name to take the poem up a notch? You have lots of scope here to find some deeper resonance.
What's going on in the poem? A woman decides to step out of the game, to effectively step out of her role as woman in supermarket. Coukd this be a comment on the role of women in society? Yes, if you want it to be. Read in conjunction with your recent "girl" poem, it could be about gender and sexuality. So, back to the name . . .. . . Penelope? Miranda? Cordelia? Ruth? Gertrude? Orlando? etc, etc . . .

Just me thinking at the screen here.

B.

~

Ooh now that's an idea Brian.
Pandora springs to mind - linking with 'static' doing or not doing and the consequences. I'll have to dredge through some of my limited mythological knowledge for some more ideas.
Sharra
x

How about a manager named Kevin instead?

lol that's just mean David

Hi Sharra.

For the life of me, I can’t see what’s wrong with Tracey. A lot of women are called it, after all. What would have made it really fun, is if you’d said a boy named Tracey (it could happen!)

But that’s an aside. To me, this is about a person who yields to an impulse to regain some (albeit small) control of her life, to momentarily indulge her own needs, rather than be constantly bullied into the conventional , zombiefied patterns dictated by society (allegorised by the supermarket queue). Neat idea, and it works. Nearly. For me, though the ending is good, an emphatic resolution to the scene you’ve set, the build up – while great in concept – seems to be a bit too rich in prosaic language, some of which is (to my ear) rather ugly – crescendoing, regurgitation, shopping trolleys (why not just trolleys – what else could the be in a supermarket?). Personally, I’d love to see it re-worked a tad more figuratively.

Anyway, I do think it’s a strong idea, thanks for the post
peter

Arian wrote: For the life of me, I can’t see what’s wrong with Tracey. A lot of women are called it, after all. What would have made it really fun, is if you’d said a boy named Tracey (it could happen!)

You don't think it's stereotypical to name a supermarket worker "Tracey"?
Some might even go so far as to call it insulting. . . .

B.

~

Sharra,

I'm all for mundane contemporary subject matter, and what better than Tescos!

I do think some of the images were more than expected though, and could do with a fresh outlook?

Check out girls named "Tracey" surely went out in the 70's? In my experience checkout people these days are either middle aged blokes named Keith, or students named Mia or Josh.

Still, the madness metaphor struck a chord, Tescos - Medication Time...

Hi Sharra.

I love this. I've had moments just like that, and you capture it very well.

I agree with Brian that you could extend it out a bit, providing you don't lose the "moment".

I worked in Tesco for a bit when I was younger, I think you've inspired me to write about that. Perhaps a response from the staff viewpoint? Hmm...

Anyways, much enjoyed. FWIW, there were are least three Traceys in the store where I worked.

- Neil

Some Traceys might think your own views pretty insulting, Brian. I wouldn't blame them.

Arian wrote:Some Traceys might think your own views pretty insulting, Brian. I wouldn't blame them.

That doesn't even make sense Peter, but let's stick to the poem eh?

Sharra, I look forward to seeing how you might develop this.

B.

~

Yes it does, Brian. But I agree: the poem's the thing.

Me too, Sharra.

Great idea, Sharra, but I think as others have said, it doesn't quite hit the spot with its language - perhaps it needs to go more surreal? Or perhaps you could get in more about the sounds and lighting (I have a theory that the main thing wrong with supermarkets is the lighting, puts you in a sort of dazed trance). I think this is a great thing to develop. Sorry, I'm not being very specific here...

Ros

"Everything is concealed in symbolism. . . . The large doors slide open, they close unbidden. Energy waves, incident radiation . . . code words and ceremonial phrases. It is just a question of deciphering. . . . Not that we would want to. . . . This is not Tibet. . . . Tibetans try to see death for what it is. It is the end of attachment to things. This simple truth is hard to fathom. But once we stop denying death, we can proceed calmly to die. . . . We don't have to cling to life artificially, or to death. . . . We simply walk toward the sliding doors. . . . Look how well-lighted everything is . . . sealed off . . . timeless. Another reason why I think of Tibet. Dying is an art in Tibet . . . Chants, numerology, horoscopes, recitations. Here we don't die, we shop. But the difference is less marked than you think."

---------- From White Noise by Don Delillo

Too true. There's a great deal of thought and effort gone into how supermarkets control people. It's fascinating and rather worrying.

Good quote Brian. I had a mate who worked in H&M, and the amount of codes he had to be in knowledge of when designing the shop floor was intimidating. (but I never did enjoy White Noise -- not a touch on Underworld)

Anyway, Nicky, I like the poem, but for me it;s just too unsurprising. I mean, you haven't really trodden on any new ground here at all for me - it's the typical fast vs slow, the man vs identity, etc routine, which I found a little, erm, bland to be frank. The thing, however, that I found quite inspiring was the bit where they take you away on the trolley - I thought that was a wonderful turn that could've been investigated more.

But the first stanza just reads badly for me. It's a bit too cliched - i sound like a knob saying that, I know

Sorry for being a miserable smart arse.

Dave

NB Thanks one your comments for Value of Love. I agree with you almost entirely. I just don't want to bump the thing and would rather let it sink. Thanks loads for the spot on crit.

A micro-thought - is "regurgitation" the word you want? I don't think that's what's going on. "Registering" might be better, certainly more accurate, but only if you like it.

Cheers

David

P.S. Why is "a manager named Kevin" mean? OK, it's stereotyping, but at least it's picking on managers, not girls.

Wow, who would have guessed that a poem about Tescos would spark so much debate
I won't get into the Tracey v Kevin debate right now though.

Thanks everyone for all the comments. It seems the general consensus is that this is worth pushing some more to wring some more depth from it, but that I do need to do that. There's been some good points made that I'll take on board as I edit this.
Sharra
xx

Hi, Sharra.

nar wrote:I worked in Tesco for a bit when I was younger, I think you've inspired me to write about that. Perhaps a response from the staff viewpoint? Hmm...
- Neil

Now posted over in Beg.

viewtopic.php?f=20&t=11172

Just a bit of a laugh.

Cheers,

-Neil

I like it.

Like the ending lines:

After they wheeled me away, strapped in
for my own safety

Did they strap you in one of their wonky wheeled trollies?

Also I see nothign wrong with the name Tracey - some cliches are just true - anyways Tracey would seem more obvious then a Lucinda or a Tamara.

John G wrote:
Also I see nothign wrong with the name Tracey - some cliches are just true - anyways Tracey would seem more obvious then a Lucinda or a Tamara.

Depends.

If it's London . . . .