Stairs talk poem to man
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we've known each other good long time
had ups and downs I see you grow
from small to taller every day
since early steps just you and lady
racing over me together
almost falling tangled urgent
slower now preserving moment
heavier the footprint fall
and so many your descendants
feel like treadmill weight of bearing
all your hopes and aspirations
focusing your flights of fancy
why these daughters choose sit on me
talk talk talking all the time?
go worn and torn go bare go boring
peek up dresses make load lighter
only tiny consolation
maybe perk me up fresh cover
something like a brand new carpet
man stares at stairs
and climbs with care and respect
at bedroom door hears wife whisper
good job stairs good job
wanna take a peek?
had ups and downs I see you grow
from small to taller every day
since early steps just you and lady
racing over me together
almost falling tangled urgent
slower now preserving moment
heavier the footprint fall
and so many your descendants
feel like treadmill weight of bearing
all your hopes and aspirations
focusing your flights of fancy
why these daughters choose sit on me
talk talk talking all the time?
go worn and torn go bare go boring
peek up dresses make load lighter
only tiny consolation
maybe perk me up fresh cover
something like a brand new carpet
man stares at stairs
and climbs with care and respect
at bedroom door hears wife whisper
good job stairs good job
wanna take a peek?
Last edited by ray miller on Sun Jul 26, 2009 7:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
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I like what your doing here Ray, but why not push it more. I suggest cutting first and last stanza and retitling the poem to:
Stairs Speak To Stoned Man
Or, wait wait, get this
Stairs Speak, Man
Just my thoughts.
B.
~
Stairs Speak To Stoned Man
Or, wait wait, get this
Stairs Speak, Man
Just my thoughts.
B.
~
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If it were me, I would get rid of the first and last stanza. The title says it all. I don't need some sort of justification of why the stair is talking. Of course in the real world stairs don't talk; so the only way to justify it is to make the guy drunk? You're missing the fact that this is a poem. A stair can be a metaphor for anything: an inner voice, a death loved one, or even god. Let the reader's imagination decided that for you. Your premise is strong and interesting enough, and your point is just unique enough that you don't need to belittle the poem by making the guy drunk. I think it's stronger when he hears the stairs sober, which is scarier and more intriguing.
Words love me long time.
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Thanks guys.Not meant to be taken entirely seriously, this, but if you are then I will!I've taken most of your excellent advice on board.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
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This was a lovely pun-filled read!
I wasn't sure what to make of the final stanza, but I loved the pace and oddly enough the character of the stairs, a little bit of a perv, but a loveable perv like a drunken uncle. Hmm, that sounds slightly wrong.
Anyway I enjoyed it pun for pun!
I wasn't sure what to make of the final stanza, but I loved the pace and oddly enough the character of the stairs, a little bit of a perv, but a loveable perv like a drunken uncle. Hmm, that sounds slightly wrong.
Anyway I enjoyed it pun for pun!
Specto Nusquam
It's, erm, quite surreal. Not really the concept, but more the grammar, sense and language. An incredibly disorientating read. But in, I would say, a good way. The oddness kind of provokes a friendly dizziness which helps the movement of the poem. There are moments that read like someone laughing at someone who hasn't got that good a grip on English. In fact, I can't help but read it in a stereotypical first-generation indian accent, and I have this wonderful poet (http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2007/se ... bookaward1) partly to blame for that.
Dave
Dave
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Phil thanks, the last stanza attempts to show that stairs have been persuaded by wife to suggest buying new carpet to husband. It's a common manoeuvre in this part of the world.
Dave I saw Daljit Nagra very recently at Ledbury Poetry Festival, he was very entertaining. I could claim some influence for him but this just happens to be how stairs speak.
Dave I saw Daljit Nagra very recently at Ledbury Poetry Festival, he was very entertaining. I could claim some influence for him but this just happens to be how stairs speak.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
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Ray this is a very cool idea. I would take it "seriously" and do an unserious take too. It could be a series. I would explore the possibility of creating it as a shape poem, a poem written in the shape or form of an object.
Could bring it up another level
e
Could bring it up another level
e
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Thanks e.I could be House Poet.Housman. Possibilities endless.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I wonder if you had - even subliminally - Le Minh in mind when you started this. The first line is so reminiscent of his little calling card - "Words love me long time".
It's the Hiawatha rhythm, isn't it - trochaic.
I'd definitely lose S2, but polish the end of S1 - give it a big finish. S1 I like a lot - "go worn and torn go bare go boring", in particular, is great.
Cheers
David
It's the Hiawatha rhythm, isn't it - trochaic.
I'd definitely lose S2, but polish the end of S1 - give it a big finish. S1 I like a lot - "go worn and torn go bare go boring", in particular, is great.
Cheers
David
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Lovely this is how stairs talk, no space on stairs! Well, it's just one way of writing, that's all. Plenty ways to write. I'm lost into Her? Me too.
David I had LeMinh in mind in this sense: I noted his advice to Suzanne about re-addressing her poem to her kitchen and then I saw that "the stranger" had written a poem from window to girl. I can't look at a bandwagon without jumping on.As for the oriental voice, I can't explain it, I only noticed I was doing it halfway through. Why nobody like last stanza joke?
David I had LeMinh in mind in this sense: I noted his advice to Suzanne about re-addressing her poem to her kitchen and then I saw that "the stranger" had written a poem from window to girl. I can't look at a bandwagon without jumping on.As for the oriental voice, I can't explain it, I only noticed I was doing it halfway through. Why nobody like last stanza joke?
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
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Great title. interesting poem. Don't quite follow it, but I'm intrigued by the sexual connotations. What's all this about not taking it seriously? I don't understand what people mean when they say that. Aren't funny poems supposed to be good as well?
Ben
Ben
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Ray,
I liked how you the stairs are not quite fluent and fluid in speech. It is very clever.
I liked the girls sitting on the stairs and talk talk talking, it is such a reality. I remember doing it as well, wasn't it yesterday?
The last bit was a puzzle until I read your replies. I didn't know why the wife was so thankful but can understand the new carpet idea now. I think that it needs to somehow be mentioned earlier, subtly then tied into it. It is a very good ending idea.
Bravo for this idea. It is inspirational.
Suzanne
I liked how you the stairs are not quite fluent and fluid in speech. It is very clever.
I liked the girls sitting on the stairs and talk talk talking, it is such a reality. I remember doing it as well, wasn't it yesterday?
The last bit was a puzzle until I read your replies. I didn't know why the wife was so thankful but can understand the new carpet idea now. I think that it needs to somehow be mentioned earlier, subtly then tied into it. It is a very good ending idea.
Bravo for this idea. It is inspirational.
Suzanne
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Your poem made me smile, loved the thought of the stirs talking. How many times Ive herd my mum and my gran before her say eeeeeeeey if only theses walls could talk what a laugh we would have.
Only last week I was in a grand building that had seen better days it had been turned into a sort of indoor market, but had once been a grand theatre with a sweeping marble staircase, neglected, chipped and dusty. I found myself daydreaming of ladies in crinoline dresses, men in tall hats.
Made me feel so sad, felt sorry for the stirs.
Only last week I was in a grand building that had seen better days it had been turned into a sort of indoor market, but had once been a grand theatre with a sweeping marble staircase, neglected, chipped and dusty. I found myself daydreaming of ladies in crinoline dresses, men in tall hats.
Made me feel so sad, felt sorry for the stirs.
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Imaginative idea, nicely executed. Lost the train of thought at the end, but really enjoyed it. The voice of the stairs seemed perfectly reasonable to me – how else should stairs talk? Good stuff, Ray.