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Gadgets and Poems (Prose Poem) by Dovina My poems are like gadgets my father used to makeâ-a sharpener for an
old kind of lawn mower that nobody used but himâ-remote control for
his old TV when all the new ones came with them. I remember the grin
from his easy chair as he pulled its choke-like knob and listened as the
sound decreased. And the carpetâs rise, soft on my bare sole, where
its cable moved snake-like. My father made clever devices for specific
uses. His reward, like mine, was not only use, but also joy in success,
and the occasional approving glance from an amused onlooker.
I go to my dark storage room sometimes to consider again the pedal from
an old sewing machine that he lashed up with the speedometer cable from
an old car, and the motor from somewhere that turned the cable and drove
its tiny end with small tools, fine as a dentistâs drill, for carving
his art. And there I write a few lines, not as clever as his devices,
but useful in the same kind of way.
Up the ladder:
Conny and the Chocolate Factory
Down the ladder:
Seeing
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 8.571428
Posted: August 16, 2008 5:55 PM PDT; Last modified: August 16, 2008 5:57 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.960505 Overall Rank: 1353 The following users have marked this poem on their favorites list:
Comments:
I have wonderful memories like these as well.
Good, at least somebody is awake out there. Welcome back
You're much better at executing prose peices... I think you should consider writing short stories, in a prosey fashion. I say nine; but since this far outweighs all of your previous posts in my opinion, I'll bless you with a ten.
Two male votes for the carpetâs rise as opener. Intriguing, vague and suggestive, yes. But to say this scrawl is better than "Rancor" - well, please reconsider.
I have a hard time reading "paragraph" poetry. Take out 50 words, and split it up into somewhat rhythmic lines.
I saw a gal in a bookstore once (imagine that!). I think she would write out her piece in long lines, then accordian the paper left to right and then fold/strike/fold/strike words almost at random. I'm assuming alot here, but still. This is to say I agree with your suggestion.
I
think you are both batty
Wow, you thought of that old one, and granted, it spares you the paragraph and the ramble. But is there no place in you heart for a fireside chat and the story handed down, the remembrance retold?
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The carpetâs rise, soft on my bare sole, where its cable moved snake-like... My father made clever devices for specific usesâ-
a sharpener for an old kind of lawn mower that nobody used but himâ- a remote control for his old TV when all the new ones came with them... I remember the grin from his easy chair as he pulled its choke-like knob and listened as the sound decreased. His reward, like mine, was not only use, but also joy in success, and the occasional approving glance from an amused onlooker.
I go to my dark storage room sometimes to consider again the pedal from an old sewing machine that he lashed up with the speedometer cable from an old car, and the motor from somewhere that turned the cable and drove its tiny end with small tools-- Fine as a dentistâs drill, for carving his art. Here is where I write a few lines, not as clever as his devices, but useful in the same kind of way.
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Just a quick example, so you vultures can forgo the bleeding- I carry a sharp titanium quill.