Poetry Forum

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Ah, the empty page gathered up by night
and I, a word processor at the window,
wait for the hour to strike a key and detail
the speak produced by the qwerty factory.

Inside the word count I reach for Chapter Five,
come in, come in, don’t hang about. Oh, I feel
a cliché coming: Strike while the iron is hot,
he whispered. She moved her legs into
the puritan position her lips pursed.

My origami puppet lured from page to page,
and chased until undone in Chapter Nine.
The sheets overflow the bin; two such as her
and him economize the verbal in-between
the on-rush of adverbs. My mind aches for
a sonnet to imprint its way over the inane -

My moth heart flies to the Mountains of Mourne
where greens and purples run down to the sea;
blest are those tied to Windy Gap’s bourn
and wake in the arms of the verdant lea, lee?
Rewrite Chapter Six from where he

(I push hints of Prometheus Unbound back
to Paradise) - picked her up at the Tarantula Bar
and dropped her off on page 231. Night is not
satisfied. I lie awake, torturing the characters
to death, wishing redemption would tap on
the window pane. Every word I make feeds
the vultures pecking at the prose.

Pulp belongs to the publicist; the charlatan author,
he doesn’t know I killed the hero off on page 273,
and the blond - she and I are running amok across
the emptiness.



changed stanza
(I push hints of Prometheus Unbound back
to Paradise) - picked her up at the Tarantula Bar
and dropped her off on page 231. Night is not
satisfied. I lie awake, torturing the characters
to death, wishing redemption would tap on
the window pane. Every word I make pays
the rent, the gas, the vultures pecking at the prose.


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Clara, really enjoyed the straight narrative here.....really got caught up in it all.....just shooting ya on the run...more later! Wonderful write!




JR

MY favourite of yours so far I think Clara, some delightful whimsy and skillfully put together too.
I have caveats, of course:

I think you could lose the whole of the current S1 which reads like preamble anyway.

two such as her
and him economize the verbal in-between
the on-rush of adverb

The above reads a little clumsily to me, I think you could smooth it out.

Every word I make pays
the rent, the gas, the vultures pecking at the prose.

I'd nix those lines, if mine. They explicate more than necessary and only serve to stretch the trope too far.

The last stanza is stunning.

B.

~

Didn't you post this, or something very similar, before. Or do you indeed have a ghost writer?
This bit, which Brian thought clumsy, I liked best:
The sheets overflow the bin; two such as her
and him economize the verbal in-between
the on-rush of adverbs.

Enjoyed a lot, especially torturing the characters to death. I may try that.

Thank you for the inputs and will take the comments on board; not sure if or how to revise yet - different opinions! But very helpful. I don't remember posting before but perhaps I did!

a delightful read through & through!

i feel - not a word out of place - very adept very fine!

enjoyed immensly!

Thanks Rushme and another point of view so still not sure about changes.

Hello- another tuppence worth - this is great, and my only thoughts are on these lines

Every word I make pays
the rent, the gas, the vultures pecking at the prose.

If you are considering revising, it's just that as Brian says this 'stretches the trope' - I think that's what he said - and it is reminiscent of noir movies, private detectives, something American about it too...Raymond Carver? so... if you want these implications these lines are great, depends what you want.

megan.

Should I delete those lines?

Every word I make pays
the rent, the gas, the vultures pecking at the prose.

or would this work -

Every word I make pays
the vultures pecking at the prose.

Umm. Have you decided? I think both versions work, it's not so much a problem of too many words or rhythm, it's more the imagery of the vulture pecking at the prose - for some reason that seems unEnglish to me and emphasises the noir-ish elements of the poem. But I like that. This poem can carry different worlds - it's got the writer's garrett world, the verdant 'lee...lea' of the sonnet, the Tarantula Bar....
I wasn't sure about the vultures/rent/gas because of the caricature of a writer that suggests - but I think the poem can carry that if it's what you want.

p.s I meant Raymond Chandler, not Raymond Carver..oops..

Thank you C/ have amended the line slightly. I couldn't get rid of the 1st stanza as I feel it needs the preamble but I may change my mind in 3 months time! Clara