There Must Be A Name

[ray miller]

This stuff is too dark by half, they remark
and I’m inclined to side on the choir’s

behalf, those adherents so decent, so devout
they bow en route to the rostrum to recite

their poetry-lite. How I should like to describe
the blueness of sky, how wet water is

and what a pareidolic planet
we inhabit, perhaps a piano tinkling

in a dim-lit corner, the censor’s antenna
alert for content thought too explicit.

But the past needs must visit, and wearing
dark glasses is the spectre

of Byron Barraclough advancing
from a fire that’s been blazing for thirty years.

Accidental death the verdict, malfunction
of an electric blanket, Byron drunk

again, smoke inhalation, didn’t feel nothing.
That’s how I’d lullaby the sparse funeral gathering,

recalling his lovable Yorkshire accent, ginger beard,
flat cap with check patterns, that look whose moment

would never happen; that occasion he managed
a posh restaurant, consumed a melange

of drink and drugs and turned all the lights off
at 9.21, ushering open-mouthed, unfed customers

into the cold dark night. I’d go on to divulge
how we over-indulged his eagerness

to lose at Strip Poker, those too touchy-feely
games of Twister; the Straw Dogs obsession,

his caution for touching a young girl
on a train, that reluctance to remain

in the room when we changed our daughter’s nappy,
because of the “sexual connotations”.

The stare I shared with my missus, suspecting
a disease more dangerous than meningitis

hovered among us, waiting for
a defence to drop. The confrontation

we shirked from addressing, that feeling a part
of your life has turned squalid, the sense of shame

when his guilt was illuminated,
as if we’d urged some outraged father or husband

to endow himself with a cowboy judgement,
and contrive a murder to resemble misfortune;

so that his death, like his life was just a result
of faulty wiring, biochemistry being to blame.

But there must be a name for this record I spin,
this yearning to share these narratives with

anybody who will listen, where no one comes out
with honour intact and all are under suspicion.

[NotQuiteSure]

Hi ray,
starts with the title and keeps going. Good stuff. The slow reveal is nicely paced and did make me stop (as it should.)

Minor niggles only.

This stuff is too dark by half, they remark
...
they bow en route to the rostrum to recite

- 'side on the choir's / behalf' seemed a bit torturous, to me. Thought you might have been 'inclined to sing with the choir'.

their poetry-lite. How I should like to describe
...
we inhabit, perhaps a piano tinkling

- enjoyed learning 'pareidolic'.
But didn't see what the lines from 'How I should' to 'too explicit' were bringing. They felt a bit sluggish.
Perhaps a period after 'inhabit'?

in a dim-lit corner, the censor’s antenna
...
from a fire that’s been blazing for thirty years.

- 'blazing'? I didn't get a sense of that from the examples that followed.

Accidental death the verdict, malfunction
...
That’s how I’d lullaby the sparse funeral gathering,

- just wondering about the choir/recite/piano tinkling/lullaby ... record I spin thread. Couldn't join all the dots.

recalling his lovable Yorkshire accent, ginger beard,
...
at 9.21, ushering open-mouthed, unfed customers

- perhaps unfed, open-mouthed customers?

into the cold dark night. I’d go on to divulge
how we over-indulged his eagerness

- not sure you need 'night' (though maybe you want the cliché) after lights off at 9.21

to lose at Strip Poker, those too touchy-feely
...
a defence to drop. The confrontation

- ugly and excellent (or vice versa)

we shirked from addressing, that feeling a part
of your life has turned squalid, the sense of shame

- do you need 'addressing'? It's strongly implied by 'shirked from'

when his guilt was illuminated,
...
and contrive a murder to resemble misfortune;

- not sure about 'cowboy judgement'

so that his death, like his life was just a result
...
with honour intact and all are under suspicion.

- Great ending.

Regards, Not

.

[jisbell00]

Hi Ray,

Great opening line. i was just feeling the poem was a bit long when the sting in the tail came, and I saw the purpose of your meandering. Nicely done.

Do you mean swanky diner or swanky dinner? I was unsure.

Cheers,
John

[Lia]

Hi Ray,

See? You pack a lot in.

As I get into the business of unpacking the poem, I'm thinking about the thumping-good rhythm and the twisty nature of it. As far as word choices go, my only real issue was with the American diner. I know there's Bill's and a few others here, but it doesn't seem to fit with the rest of the scene-setting. But... you do have 'cowboy' so. And maybe the time Barraclough commandeered a diner, he was on a trip in the US. I'll leave that tangle of thoughts with you.

The poem seems to start with the funeral and then turn into a confession box, without a full confession. It has this smoke and daggers feel to it and is quite dark and ominous. I don't know the name Byron Barraclough and can't find anything in a search. Is he someone in particular or your own invention?

There's many areas of the poem I enjoy but this is one of my favourites:

"Accidental death the verdict, malfunction
of an electric blanket, Byron drunk

again, smoke inhalation, didn’t feel nothing.
That’s how I’d lullaby the sparse funeral gathering,"

It's the kind of poem that makes you want to read it again.

Lia

[ray miller]

Thanks, Not.
- 'side on the choir's / behalf' seemed a bit torturous, to me. Thought you might have been 'inclined to sing with the choir'.
No, not sing, too obvious. I thought about chime, but that doesn't really work.

But didn't see what the lines from 'How I should' to 'too explicit' were bringing. They felt a bit sluggish.
Perhaps a period after 'inhabit'?
N is wishing he didn't feel compelled to write about unsettling stuff.

'blazing'? I didn't get a sense of that from the examples that followed. - it just means the memory has stayed alive.


- just wondering about the choir/recite/piano tinkling/lullaby ... record I spin thread. Couldn't join all the dots. - it's not deliberate.

do you need 'addressing'? It's strongly implied by 'shirked from' - there for the rhythm, really.

not sure about 'cowboy judgement' - nor me, I mean it like "frontier justice" - am I making these phrases up?

[ray miller]

Thanks, John. The original was posh restaurant, which I've gone back to.

[ray miller]

Thanks, Lia. Diner was a bad choice, I've gone back to the original. I'm glad you noticed the rhythm - I try.
The guy was a good friend of mine, that's not his real name. The slow reveal of the poem is meant to mimic real life, we gradually became aware that he was not just a harmless drunken hedonist like the rest of us. He had big issues. I feel I let him down, sometimes, that I was probably his best friend and should've done more to help. What I don't mention, and perhaps should, is there was a strong suspicion that his death wasn't accidental but suicide.

[NotQuiteSure]

Hi ray,
thanks for the explanation(s).

too obvious. I thought about chime, but that doesn't really work.
Maybe just 'sit or stand with the choir'?

it just means the memory has stayed alive.
Wouldn't that be smouldering, then?

it's not deliberate.
Now you tell me.

there for the rhythm, really.
Probably buggers up your rhythm, but

we shirked from, each of us feeling that feeling a part
of your life has turned squalid, the sense of shame

nor me, I mean it like "frontier justice" - am I making these phrases up?
Cowboy judgement? Almost certainly. Isn't that something associated with dodgy builders? I can see how 'frontier justice' would work, or some appeal to a 'natural justice' ... maybe. There's probably a link back to Straw Dogs, but I'm not seeing it.

Regards, Not

.

[Morpheus]

Hi Ray, I found this very engaging too for a longish poem. The couplet presentation took a bit of getting used to but there was plenty of music to sustain me.

The first time I read it I spotted:

"of faulty wiring, biochemistry being to blame."

and thought suicide before I read your comments. When I read it again and I couldn't quite tell so I think you've achieved that aim in that you already successfully planted the question.

[jisbell00]

Hi Ray,

Frontier justice is very definitely a thing. It is the stuff of Western movies, and might include posses as well.
Cowboy judgement is not a term I've heard but a cowboy is someone who flies in their profession by the seat of their pants, and it is uncomplimentary.

Cheers,
John

[Lia]

Thanks, Lia. Diner was a bad choice, I've gone back to the original. I'm glad you noticed the rhythm - I try.
The guy was a good friend of mine, that's not his real name. The slow reveal of the poem is meant to mimic real life, we gradually became aware that he was not just a harmless drunken hedonist like the rest of us. He had big issues. I feel I let him down, sometimes, that I was probably his best friend and should've done more to help. What I don't mention, and perhaps should, is there was a strong suspicion that his death wasn't accidental but suicide.

Thank you for explaining that, Ray. I don't think you should beat yourself up about it too much. Sometimes, when a person gets those ideas in their head, they'll do it regardless. In this case, there's no real way of knowing what really happened, but I understand the regret you have... I carry a similar regret about two people I cared about.

I didn't quite get to the thought of suicide. I thought a possibility of indirect murder rather than an accident.... which I suppose is kind of on the right lines, considering the narrator's shame and guilt. Is there a way to add a small hint to do with the possible suicide so that everything ties together? Or would that be too tricky?

Lia

[David]

Lots of good stuff in here, Ray. I'm just wondering whether couplets is the best way to present it. I think it might benefit from a structure of larger verses - and longer lines, to reduce the number of line breaks? - but that might not give you what you want from the poem. Still, that's what occurred to me, helpfully or (probably) not.

And did you have Porridge in mind - or at the back of your mind - when coming up with the name?

Always good to see the cockeyed world from your point of view anyway.

Cheers

David

[ray miller]

Thanks all. Hmm, I like smouldering, Not, but I sent it off to George Simmers yesterday and he likes it, so...
What was the Porridge character called that you were thinking about, David? Byron Barraclough is a combination of two other people I knew.

[jisbell00]

Was Porridge the prison show? What a great title, if so.

Cheers,
John

[David]

What was the Porridge character called that you were thinking about, David? Byron Barraclough is a combination of two other people I knew.

It was Mr. Barrowclough - the great Brian Wilde.

David

[ray miller]

Oh yeah, I remember Mr Barraclough now, the kindly screw.