Marooned (revised)

[pomespennyeach]

I found you in a folk-dance class
confessed my instant attraction
and you took my phone number
A rabbi’s daughter become
a dark Romani princess
hungry for men.
You called me out
into the early spring night.
I remember your laughter
vibrating into our embrace.
And you told me
you wanted to live in a house
on a beach in Oregon
with a man who didn’t care
who else held you.

I followed you for weeks
until the weight of your wildness
wore me down to a preference
for loneliness, but those moments
that I spent studying you
never left me alone again.

Forty years later
marooned with only
those moments for shelter
you’re the fire of my wan signal
to the passing of time.
Love’s reckoning
still waits on this empty shore
for an impossible beginning.



************************************************************

I massaged your back
while Rainy Night in Georgia played.
A rabbi’s daughter, dark gypsy princess.
Next time, you called me out
into midnight,
I remember your laughter
echoing from your diaphragm
against my hips as we embraced.

And you told me
you wanted to live in a house
on a beach in Oregon
with a man who didn’t care
who else held you.

You were not done with me yet,
you tracked me to the restaurant kitchen
and my fellow fry-cook, fresh from Viet Nam,
homed on to your come-hither
you sashayed into his arms
before I could ready my heart
for the shock of seeing love
when she looks at another.

Forty years later
I revisit these adventures in heartbreak
marooned here with only
this memory for company.
Today you’re a schoolteacher in Queens,
but on my desert island
you’re the fire of my wan signal
to the passing ships of time
that love’s reckoning
still waits on this empty beach
for another beginning.

[Firebird]

Hi PPE,

I like the first three stanzas, but I’m not sure about the fast forward to the present in stanza 4.

I think if this were mine I might go for this as the 4th stanza.

“Now, you’re a schoolteacher in Queens,
but on my desert island
you’re the fire of my wan signal
to the passing ships of time
that love’s reckoning
still waits on this empty beach
for another beginning.”

Maybe call the poem: ‘40 years ago’.

I stumbled on this line:

“homed on to your come-hither“

Had to read it a couple of times to get the sense of it.


Hope this helps.

Cheers,

Tristan

I massaged your back
while Rainy Night in Georgia played.
A rabbi’s daughter, dark gypsy princess.
Next time, you called me out
into midnight,
I remember your laughter
echoing from your diaphragm
against my hips as we embraced.

And you told me
you wanted to live in a house
on a beach in Oregon
with a man who didn’t care
who else held you.

You were not done with me yet,
you tracked me to the restaurant kitchen
and my fellow fry-cook, fresh from Viet Nam,
homed on to your come-hither
you sashayed into his arms
before I could ready my heart
for the shock of seeing love
when she looks at another.

Forty years later
I revisit these adventures in heartbreak
marooned here with only
this memory for company.
Today you’re a schoolteacher in Queens,
but on my desert island
you’re the fire of my wan signal
to the passing ships of time
that love’s reckoning
still waits on this empty beach
for another beginning.

[Leaf]

I really like this, PPE. There's a nice subtle sensuality in S1 and an interesting development in S2, which keeps me engaged. I have a bit of a stumble with the final line of S3, the move from 'you' to 'she', unless there's a general comment here on N's relationship with women?

The move to the present in S4 is effective too. I like the imagery with the desert island and the fire, and also the mood as it ends. Bit of a stumble with 'waits', but that might be due to tiredness this evening. I'll try again soon!

Best wishes,
Leaf

[pomespennyeach]

Hi PPE,

I like the first three stanzas, but I’m not sure about the fast forward to the present in stanza 4.

I think if this were mine I might go for this as the 4th stanza.

“Now, you’re a schoolteacher in Queens,
but on my desert island
you’re the fire of my wan signal
to the passing ships of time
that love’s reckoning
still waits on this empty beach
for another beginning.”

Maybe call the poem: ‘40 years ago’.

I stumbled on this line:

“homed on to your come-hither“

Had to read it a couple of times to get the sense of it.

Thanks Firebird, I like the rewrite of 4th stanza.

I'm pretty attached to my come hither but I'll think about it.

PPE

[pomespennyeach]

I really like this, PPE. There's a nice subtle sensuality in S1 and an interesting development in S2, which keeps me engaged. I have a bit of a stumble with the final line of S3, the move from 'you' to 'she', unless there's a general comment here on N's relationship with women?

The move to the present in S4 is effective too. I like the imagery with the desert island and the fire, and also the mood as it ends. Bit of a stumble with 'waits', but that might be due to tiredness this evening. I'll try again soon!

Best wishes,
Leaf

I'm trying to say "love" in a sort of goddess sense. "She" is not the woman I'm writing about, but love as an entity. It's late, this may sound insane...but maybe not.

PPE

[Leaf]

Thanks for explaining, PPE: I thought 'she' might mean 'the beloved', so the goddess sense is interesting. Or are we actually on the same wavelength here, despite using different words? I'm just back from an afternoon party and a bit blurry, lol. Still enjoying the poem

[Macavity]

I think there was more life in the original PPE. A massage is far more sexy than a folk dance The restaurant details added colour and the transition from wild Romani to school teacher was another layering.

best

mac

[CalebPerry]

I didn't comment on the first draft because there was so much extraneous information in it that I didn't want to figure it all out. The revised version has more focus. The older I get, the more I understand that a good poem stays focussed on the message, and never strays into unnecessary detail.

I understand what Mac said -- that there was more life in the first version -- though I'm not sure I agree. The language in the second version does seem a little more amorphous, a little less crisp. But I still see the second version as better because it is more focussed. One thing I can tell you: The word "diaphragm" doesn't belong in ANY poem.