Free verse № 79454
The woods house
Winter came, driving the mice back in
The woods house. They set traps â
And he dreamed every night after that heâd be awakened
By the killing armâs flat snap,
Impossibly loud in the dark, until he awoke.
They caught the first one while they were
Screwing. He heard, and
Reached for the light. It was a bad near miss. Fur,
Blood, stickpin eyes â and alive, burdened
Top-heavy with the trap. They got smokes
And walked unclothed around the house with things
To spring the traps. He was shaken
Each time, and tried not to show how he jumped when the springs
Went. Then he put the hurt mouse in a sack and,
Swinging it against the porch, broke
Its spine. That bugged her, but her mood
Changed thinking how scared heâd been, and she laughed her
Old laugh later, untouching in the big bed. They screwed
Sometime before dawn. They forgot rent, and the month after
Forgot again on purpose; May came;
When it thawed the mice went out and aired
Themselves on the porch. It was spring,
And his feeling that neither of them were quite there,
In a house thatâd vanished out of reckoning,
Was always the same.
All that summer and fall they wandered
In the circling hills â the strange freedom of the forsaken,
She called it, summer-lovely and fonder of
Obscurity than he, who held his shaken
Self to earth by repeating like a mantra
I love her, oh at least I love her â
Though if youâd asked, it would have taken
Him a full minute to remember her name.
11 comments
Like the ending, probably the poems best line.
'It was a bad near miss'
and from then on the poem takes hold of me, lovers trying to save a small life together, naked. their hearts just as frail, and their present life snared together. I love this poem. You have a harsh, poignant talent. My favorite.
POIGNANT: Affecting or moving the emotions.
TALENT: A special natural ability.
Everyone should know what it means, it''s perfectly clear. The boy has a natural ability for telling stories, in an ungentle austere manner, that affect the emotions of the audience. For me, life itself is a harsh poignant matter, so I'm attracted to such a portrayal of it.
From now on, I do not wish to hear you use the phrase "harsh, poignant" except when referring to "Ace Bandido Red" brand hot sauce.
You have summer and fall which naturally flow together and all at the beginning of the line which ties into fall(all/fall).
They wandered in the circling hills(wander/circling).
the strange freedom of the forsaken. You see the words go well together- wandering circling strange freedom- freddom forsaken strange. it's hard to point out, but the words flow into each other and as the eye moves along the words echo back to the previous words. At the end you say 'I love her' twice, then in the last line you you say he cannot even remember 'her name'. It makes a difference, like a prayer or an incantation, it's not just the meaning of the words that matter but the sound of the voice in speaking them, the lull or crash of the vowels and the consonants. Like certain chords evoke certain feelings. It's so hard to express. It can't be forced. It only works when inspiration takes hold. There are tools, meter, rhyme, assonance, etc., but in the end it's inspiration that allows the artist to create. There's a word that's on the tip of my tongue, you know when actors get on stage and make it up aas they go along. Starts witht the letter 'I', I can't remember. Sometimes my poemes come, and then I have to go back and replace words or phrases with the appropriate ones. For example once I wrote 'He grew annoyingly afraid' but it was really suppose to be 'unknowingly afraid'. I think MEXICO has some great emotion in it, but it's not spellbinding like this one.
i feel like a humble ass clown in comparison
my one teeny tiny note would be that i enjoyed the breaks that spanned the stanzas
and wished that all the stanzas did that
going back and forth was only slightly jarring
i think in general though, your breaks are great
and really adds to the feel
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