Poetry Forum

This is about a once close friend who drifted away, then hung/hanged himself a few days ago. Simon was his name.

In-between what’s right and wrong
your death sits snugly as a gun.
A derringer pocket toy, fancy but
bereft of joyous interludes that may
or may not include, strangling yourself.
Famous now as Hutchence – fucked up
final breaths that gasp – “my mistake,
I need to live!" too late.
I hear your harp blow lower C’s
I see your eyes, fixed in black.
I smell your beer sweating life
swilled away, time called at last.
No real surprise, forever ill,
forever dead and lonely still.

Gidday

I have read this several times and I like it more each time. Great opener

In-between what’s right and wrong
your death sits snugly as a gun.

Great ending

No real surprise, forever ill,
forever dead and lonely still.

Some of the stuff in between seems referential, but you make me feel I knew him. I appreciated the Hutchence reference. Wondered if you meant the quotes to encompass

final breaths that gasp – “my mistake”
I need to live! too late.

Either way, nice read.

Cheers
Dave

My favourite lines:

"I see your eyes fixed in black"

and, of course, the out-lines.

One small quibble -
I struggled a little with these lines:

"A derringer pocket toy, fancy but
bereft of joyous interludes that...."

because the subject they refer back to grammatically is "death" which is
likened to a gun, but it was his life that was "bereft of joyous interludes", surely?
Perhaps I'm being anal?

Nice one
Geoff

Something interesting happens in the first few lines of this:

In-between what’s right and wrong
your death sits snugly as a gun.
A derringer pocket toy, fancy but
bereft of joyous interludes that may
or may not include, strangling yourself.

— it is a compelling observation balancing the selfishness and carelessness of this suicide, expressed with the same cool observation implicit in Vonnegut's antireactionary "So it goes." Couple that with the Americanesque attitude towards the romance of hidden personal firearms implicit in "derringer", and you have a loaded metaphor.

This piece works on so many levels: brevity, force, objectivity, restraint — amazing.

Reminds me of one you wrote a few weeks ago - 'Old Friends', but the end came courtesy of a car in that one, if I remember correctly.

You capture a lot in a few words, I appreciate that.

'........... fucked up
final breaths that gasp' - The whole poem has a certain ring to it when read outl oud, but this is the most effective phrase.

I read 'harp' as a pun - I take it your friend played harmonica.

A final flourish -

'I smell your beer sweating life
swilled away, time called at last.
No real surprise, forever ill,
forever dead and lonely still.'

I've just read it through again and came up with a suggestion - 'rasp' instead of 'gasp', it links up better with the 'br' of 'breaths.

' ..........fucked up
final breaths that rasp – “my mistake” '

nice one

Barrie

Thanks guys,

Glad this one worked, I wasn't sure whether to post it, as it isn't really a celebration of his life, more the downsides that I witnessed toward the last few months of knowing him...

Dave, yes I need to change the quotes.

Geoff, tricky one that, it was meant to relate to death as opposed to life, but I see what you mean....mmmmmmmm.

River,

Vonnegut's antireactionary "So it goes." Excellent, I discovered Vonnegut only a few months ago, read Slaughterhouse 5, and was blown away. I'm presently half way through Breakfast of Champions. Kilgore Trout is my new anti hero.

I did wonder about "So it goes" it began to rile me a little but also made me laugh in certain circumstances.

On that note he's swapped the "So it goes" from Slaughterhouse 5 for "And so on" in Breakfast of Champions - antireactionary statements huh, thanks for that insight.

Barrie,

"but the end came courtesy of a car in that one, if I remember correctly."

Indeed the last few years has seen friends and friends of friends dying on a semi regular basis, not sure they've prepared me for any personal tragedies though, not something I'll dwell on.

Simon did indeed "blow" the harmonica, it wasn't meant as a pun, but I can see how it could be interpreted as such. I'll ponder rasp for gasp.

cheers
Kris

NB,

And this is the reason I shouldn't have posted this, the post mortem has not yet revealed its conclusion, his tragic death could well have been an accident, NOT suicide!

A painful write, Kris.

Whether it is true to what actually happened or not in the end, the poem shows something of the person and how they lived, how they suffered it. Celebration poems, though wonderful, don’t show us the raw truths of how a person felt do they?

You’re poem is very effective. The final lines, very poignant..

‘I smell your beer sweating life
swilled away, time called at last.
No real surprise, forever ill,
forever dead and lonely still.’

..‘time called at last’ made me think of ‘time at the bar’.

Lia

I hear your harp, blow lower C’s
I see your eyes, fixed in black
I smell your beer sweating life
swilled away, time called at last.
No real surprise, forever ill,
forever dead and lonely still.

That's a worthy tribute, whatever the "cause of death" (which is probably only the last in a line of contributory causes).

Could probably excise the comma in the first line?

A fine lament, Kris.

I agree, this is good - a challenging subject.

Whether or not it was suicide...? I don't know if that matters, Kris. Seems the poem holds together as a poem, even if there is a little bit of fiction in it. Take my last poem for example on the abduction in Southern Missouri - I wrote it before the missing child was found - I was not anticipating that the story would be a happy one.

I can't offer any more crits than have been offered by others, I was glad to see a little rhyme and half-rhyme going on. "wrong/gun," "ill/still," and "interludes/include"...

Good -depressing- stuff

- Caleb

i realize this is probably my fault for referring people to other inferior forums, but...

can we please not use "write" as a noun?!!

thanks.

And two wrongs?

Where do you stand on "rewrite", dill?

Write On!

Ignore him Lia, he's over British.

..‘time called at last’ made me think of ‘time at the bar’.

that was indeed the case.