To John Bonham

[pseud]

I sit down at the drums.
The blister on my thumb swells,
swells with the echo of chainsaws,
snapping trees,
flattened crops -
the realization that plastic beads
can only bounce so high,
so tensely.

How I wish my arms were longer,
gnarled and twist-worthy.
How I wish my ankles could wrap around
your sounds
made of bullet rounds on random surfaces.

Could I ever match you?
Could I stomp my boot into the dirt so hard
my sole came off?
Could I ever trample barehanded
standing on my hands,
rolling on a giant drumhead
of dark glass?

The blister on my thumb cracks open
every time I imitate you.

How I wish addiction was no such thing,
controllable like physics.





Original:

The blister on my thumb swells.
It grows with the echo of chainsaws, snapping trees, flattened crops -
realization that plastic beads can only bounce so high,
so tensely.

How I wish my arms were longer,
gnarled and twist-worthy.
How I wish my ankles could wrap around
sounds made of bullet rounds on random surfaces.

But could I ever stomp my boot into the dirt so hard
my sole came off? Could I ever trample barehanded
standing on my head, rolling on a giant drumhead
of dark glass?

The blister on my thumb cracks open in response.
It grows with hammer claws, natural laws, recording flaws.

How I wish addiction was no such thing,
controllable like physics.

[lemur]

I liked the tone of this - after reading the first few lines I found myself hoping it continued in that way, since it seemed to immediately settle into its own rythmn.

I found I got a bit lost in stanzas 2 and 3, though, more with the images and trying to work out what was going on. Maybe the clue's in the title? - I didn't know if that was significant.

Loved the last two lines.

[Leslie]

I'm with Lemur on this one. The language and the images catch and hold the imagination immediately, but exactly what it's about I'm not sure.
How did it hit me: first of all, the title - who is John Bonham and does the fact that the poem is 'to him' make a difference - am I expected to know him?
Swelling blister on thumb - most likely whacked by a hammer.
Chain saws, snapping trees . . . forestry work?
Suddenly we have plastic beads, a big leap from the lumberjackery.

An intriguing second stanza, great ideas and images. Love the last line.

Third stanza; 'trample barehanded' what a wonderful expression to convey the idea.

'The blister on my thumb cracks open in response'. I wondered in response to what . . .trampling barehanded on the drumhead I guess.
Then we're back to hammers, maybe linking with the opening.

Closing lines; is it really all to do with addiction and 'tripping'?

Something like some of my beloved Dylan Thomas where the images are more important than the sense.

Enlighten please. In appreciation, Leslie.

[camus]

FYI guys,

John Bonham was Led Zeppelin's power house drummer.

I'll let Pseud take over from here.

[pseud]

who is John Bonham and does the fact that the poem is 'to him' make a difference - am I expected to know him?

Well, yes, and no. If you don't, no big deal, but yeah I doubt you'll get the poem. If you do (and know anything about his life) might get this poem.

In addition to what camus said:

He was a construction worker before he was a drummer.

The sore on the thumb was from a drumstick.

He died from too much alcohol.

Thank you three for readng.

[Leslie]

Thanks for the info. Makes the poem much more significant and meaninful. Shall read again. It had much merit before, this uinderstanding raises it to a higher level. Some of the images become more than simply 'clever'. Congrats. Leslie.