For example, 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Parts and Pieces
Sometimes one poem is not enough. Sometimes a poem goes on and on. Sometimes one subject can't be covered in one small poem. Have you ever written a poem that has multiple parts? If not, maybe it's time to write one. So, that's the project for the week. Write a poem that has at least THREE parts, maybe more.
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Yeah, yeah, I made this my prompt because it's what I'm working on. LOL. I've posted first drafts of a few of these parts for previous prompts. AND I am looking for input here. I feel like part 4 doesn't fit. I want it to fit.
ReplyDeleteRADIATION DAYDREAMS
1.
On the table, not permitted
to move, a huge science fiction
linear accelerator
radiates my breast. I pretend
aliens have abducted me. I
secretly wiggle my fingers.
Will they notice, restrain my arms?
The highly focused beam targets
emptiness where cancer once lived.
Thirty four days for five minutes,
my daily dose--killing rays that
damage cells, destroy genetic
material that controls how
cells grow and divide--has begun.
2.
Radiation machine
white noise over
quiet, I linger
in my thoughts,
list people with cancer.
Anna's husband,
a recurrence of
blood cancer,
back in the hospital,
stem cell transplant.
Wayne, rejects colon
surgery,
won’t live with a urine
bag. He lives with
the cancer instead.
Two year old
Conner's Facebook saga,
from glazed eye to
empty socket sewn shut,
Conner smiling.
Five minute treatment, time
for all that. Still
imagine my own
death over
and over and over.
3.
A new alien
appears on day six, large
tan square with green
laser line
that cuts its center.
Is that a mouth? Or eyes?
It starts clicking.
I take it
to be their language.
The daily alien
with its round head,
green crosshair
eye scans, surrounds my
body. Hums, whirrs, buzzes
as my arms lay
encased in
a plastic mold made
especially for me.
More molds hang like
dry cleaning
on circular racks,
waiting to be picked up.
I wonder how
many more
have been abducted.
4.
I get up, get dressed, ready to go
every day, twenty minute drive,
five minute radiation treatment.
Gotta be sure the cancer is gone.
Every day, twenty minute drive.
My body artificially tired,
gotta be sure the cancer is gone.
I go home, sleep an hour, maybe two.
My body artificially tired,
I sit, wait for my name to be called.
I go home, sleep an hour, maybe two.
Half my day consumed five days a week.
I sit, wait for my name to be called.
Radiation patients wait, converse.
Half my day consumed five days a week.
One woman had six lymph nodes removed.
Radiation patients wait, converse.
One won't wear a wig after chemo.
One woman had six lymph nodes removed.
Me - no chemo, no lymph nodes removed.
One won't wear a wig after chemo.
Another has a wig collection.
Me - no chemo, no lymph nodes removed,
tired, bad-tempered, annoyed at time spent.
Another has a wig collection.
I decide to cherish my half day,
tired, bad-tempered, annoyed at time spent,
crossing off calendar squares, nine more.
I decide to cherish my half day,
five minute radiation treatment,
crossing off calendar squares, nine more.
I get up, get dressed, ready to go.
5.
My right breast
went on vacation
without me.
My left nipple pink,
the right one
brown. Skin red, sunburned.
Evidence
it sunbathed alone
on a beach
I don't remember,
its private
itinerary.
6.
I escaped the aliens,
a covert operation.
No, that’s a lie. I did not
escape, but no longer need
to pretend, make my mind
withdraw, keep my body still,
resist the urge to shudder
as I lie at an awkward
angle on the cold table
while beams penetrate my breast.
Follow ups, mammograms, drugs,
cancer survivor for keeps,
but mostly I return to
normal life, my breast slightly
smaller, scarred, a bit puckered.
this is so real and so intense. all very well written but I do agree verse four does not belong. not because of the content but because the rest is free verse and flows one into the other. the fourth verse is a pantoum and that disrupts the flow the the story. if you would rewrite it to fit the style of the other verses it would work. otherwise totally awesome!
DeleteThe funny part is, none of them are free verse. They are either syllabic or 5/4 poems, where the syllables change and cycle every four lines but the stanzas are five lines. The subject matter for 4 really calls for a pantoum. Maybe I will try it as syllabic and see how that works. Or make it shorter. I want it to fit!!!
DeleteAnd it's actually partly the content too. Every other one is during the five minute daydreams. That one is "reality." I may just dump it and make it separate. All but that and and the last one have been workshopped through Artemis Rising. I'll take the whole thing to them next Sunday and then decide.
DeleteOMG!!! WOW!!! The things I felt and thought as I was reading your intense poem/poems! The imagery is astounding and so real to me. I have always feared breast cancer because I thought you always had to lose a breast but with our new technology we women are saved from that at least. You breast may be smaller but it is still there. You didn't have to lose a part of yourself. I loved everypart of this poem!!!
DeleteI wonder if you could get across the feeling of science fiction without saying "science fiction." Maybe not "pretend aliens have abducted me" either. This is really good stuff.
DeleteI understand you not liking "science fiction." Maybe something like "shining silver"? But I worked on that image of aliens to give the image of what I was seeing. Not sure how I could otherwise express that, especially considering the aliens in the other parts.
DeleteIt's not that I don't like it. I do. I just wonder what would happen if instead of making it (in effect) a simile, that this is like a science fiction experience, you actually wrote it as a science fiction experience. I don't think you'd lose any clarity, and you might gain some power.
DeleteOkay. I see what you mean. I will work on it and let you know.
DeleteHow's this as an alternate first stanza:
DeleteOn the table, not permitted
to move, a huge shiny silver
linear accelerator
radiates me. An alien
spaceship has abducted me. I
secretly wiggle my fingers.
Will they notice, restrain my arms?
And how's this for an alternate part 4.
DeleteEvery
day I get up, dressed,
drive 20 minutes, five
minute treatment.
My body
artificially
tired, I will go home, sleep
an hour, maybe
two. Half
of my day consumed.
I sit, wait to be called.
Radiation
patients wait,
converse. One woman
had six lymph nodes removed.
One won't wear wigs
post-chemo.
Another wears wigs,
collects them. One shows us
her peeling skin.
I had no
lymph nodes removed, no
chemo, just bad-tempered,
tired, annoyed at
the time spent.
I leave to go home
decide to cherish my
half day, cross off
calendar
squares, only nine more.
yes! powerful and flows beautifully with the rest of the 'parts'... as Michael Nesmith would say... parts are parts
DeleteElephant parts
Deleteol...i knew you would get it... the only two I know who would have known that are you and Joe
DeleteLOL. I just tried to "Like" your comment!!
DeleteOut The Window
ReplyDelete1.
Rain draws me into
the little coffee shop
where hot coffee and muffins
soothe my soul as I watch
out the window.
People hurry to reach their
destinations. Umbrellas pass by
in a colorful rainbow
brighten the gray, dreary day
out the window.
When the door opens
a familiar scent of an old
steam iron fills my nostrils
as rain dances on hot pavement
out the window.
Children laugh and splash with joy
through puddles - reminds me
of when I was young and carefree
as my life passed by
out the window.
Car tires swish through the streets
splatter water onto the sidewalk.
I sip my coffee slowly
watch the rain play
out the window.
2.
The view has changed outside the window.
So has my life – taken from me
by someone who promised to first do no harm.
There is no window as I lay here in a hospital bed.
The fight for my life seems fruitless at times.
The view has changed outside the window.
No more birds or squirrels at play.
Now I am forced to stare at a hospital room ceiling
by someone who promised to first do no harm.
I can’t walk on my own or even use the bathroom
People bathe me and give me drugs and I note
the view has changed outside the window.
Oxygen and I are attached day and night.
My dignity has been taken away
by someone who promised to first do no harm.
Sometimes my brain is slow to respond.
Day by day passes and I feel betrayed
by someone who promised to first do no harm.
The view has changed outside the window.
3.
From the dining room we see apartments out the window.
Meals are always the same choices.
One woman cries through the meal.
Others sleep lost in their minds.
Some need fed as they choke down their food
from the dining room we see apartments out the window.
And I wonder about the lives the residents.
How lucky they are to be free and not watched as
one woman cries through the meal.
We all do various forms of rehab.
Some like me to learn to walk again.
From the dining room we see apartments out the window.
Do the people who live there know what they have,
appreciate their lives and not worry that
one woman cries through the meal.
The despair and desperation hang heavy.
As one woman calls for her daughter, another looks for her dog.
One woman cries through the meal.
From the dining room we see apartments out the window.
4.
Outside the window it's quiet
cars and trucks drive by
people walk and talk
I hear only silence
Cars and trucks drive by
like ghosts lost and abandoned
I hear only silence
as the move past to nowhere
like ghosts lost and abandoned
in buildings people walk by window
as they move past to nowhere
puppets without strings
in the buildings people walk by windows
silent replicas of reality
puppets without strings
they move through time and space.
Silent replicas of reality
tiptoe through life as we know it
they move through time and space
sshhh! don't disturb the scene.
Tiptoe through life as we know it
I hear only silence.
Sshhh! don't disturb the scene
outside the window. I hear only silence.
5.
Out the window the squirrels welcome me home
birds fill the yard pecking for worms and seeds
the sun warms the gray and white cat
who still sleeps peacefully in the yard.
I strap on my ankle weights and do my exercises.
1, 2, 3.... count each repetition
I work to get even stronger
to go down the stairs by myself
to go outside again...
My arms are next as the squirrels frolic
for my entertainment. I need my arms
strong to help push me up to stand.
Outside the window life goes on
I see hope and promise
for a better tomorrow.
Wow. This made me cry. I love the cycle of your joy of looking out the window to the rehab centers to people permanently there to back home where you are determined to get back outside.
DeleteAs Victoria this affected my emotions. I am having difficulty swallowing my oatmeal and there are tears in my eyes at the determination you had to get back home!!! I loved the imagery of the woman crying while eating and the woman looking for her dog... This is beautiful.
Delete1.)
ReplyDeleteIn ancient times
I wandered
homeless, hungry
half-clothed and unafraid
I meandered softly
through hill and dale
listened to the
children wail
orphaned myself
I knew their plight
for food and clothes
for love, we'd fight
2.)
I grew into
a golden man
with yellow hair
and beard
big and tall
stately, strong and brave
I fit the dragon
on yon town
with sword and knife
lowered him to the ground
the princess gave to me her hand
the king a parcel of the very best land
3.)
Down below the town
live a dark knight
who lured poor children
into his lair of delight
candy was most everywhere
cookies always baking
were there for the taking
cake, nut breads
and all sweet stuff
he said t'would make
them very tough
but in reality
it made them weak
so the would seek
the aid of the
dark master
4.)
I, the savior of young children
against my wife's
better judgement
went for a sneak and a peak
at this dark knight
I ventured through
forest and fog
until I came to a place
in a bog
where the air
was mangled by twilight
my white stallion balked
at the sight
the mighty steed would not
pass through the hole in the air
I did not care
for it is not in me
to fear evil
5.)
There were candy lanes
and cookie trees
and houses made of cake
little children all around
harvesting in baskets on the ground
he asked some if they were happy
their answers were quite disturbing
"we are not happy, yet we are together
he has power over us. We are afraid
to leave."
"Why" asked I
"because he said now that we've partaken of
the food that we've communed,
become a part of this candy city
and there's no way back."
6.)
Meanwhile:
The princess saddled up her father's
finest horse
and raced through forest and fog
searching for her husband
who'd been gone far too long
she came upon the wrinkle in
the air and spied his horse
nibbling grass there
she grabbed his reins
and before he knew
what had happened
the three leap through the
wrinkle in the air
our lady fair was astounded
by all the sugar treat
and half clothed urchins
harvesting the streets!
Children with frosting on their faces
from licking the door on their cake places
She came to a lodge made of licorice
and found her husband bound up
trying to chew his way out
the more he chewed, the more would sprout
7.)
She brought many things on this journey
one of which was a good sword
she had him free in moments
they search awhile for his weapons
which they found in a skittles tree
Now prepared to do battle
they both sped toward candy castle
and found the black knight eating
beans and rice, how nice for him,
they decreed!
They leapt on him from both sides
and stabbed him to death as he cried
The candy turned to pebbles, the cake
to wooden slabs
the skittles trees turned to Rowens
All the children cheered as they ate
beans and rice
and prepared for the journey back.
The black knight was dead, there
was no more dread because
the prince and princess
took them all home!
This is awesome!! It needs to be illustrated.
DeleteIt also needs to be punctuated. LOL
Deletewhat a fun story!! loved it! and yes I agree with Victoria. It needs to be illustrated.
DeleteI actually do a lot of these. In different ways. Here are two of them. The first a two-part poem, each part inspired by a prose description of a painting, not by the paintings themselves.
ReplyDeleteDIPTYCH
1. LEGACY
Oil paintings of a harmless
vaguely nineteenth century
character—cows
in sylvan landscapes.
portraits and still lifes,
not to say no nudes:
they’re in the distance,
by a reedy pond,
trees overhanging,
faces indistinct.
But they are her parents,
before she was born,
the house with her bedroom,
before the attorney
from the East Coast, who handled
their pension fund wisely,
her mother unwisely.
A trust fund gave her
the leisure to paint,
freedom not to marry,
a villa outside of
San Miguel de Allende,
lovers who invariably
thought their own work better,
more on the cutting
edge, every one of them.
The last, a young woman
of Asian descent,
when she was sixty,
painted her nude.
You’ve seen the portrait.
It’s much admired.
2. SENTIMENTALITY
A sentimental portrait of a girl with two dogs dominated the wall.
Domination
of dogs a
domination of
girls no
one girl
she dominates
the wall the
dogs nothing
sentimental
about it for
a dog anyway
it’s dominate or
be dominated
like the wall
it’s a dog’s life
Both parts of the diptych inspired by descriptions of
art in separate New Yorker articles
The first five lines of "Legacy" should be in italics.
Deleteyour imagery always leaves me breathless. you have such a talent of bringing images to life. beautifully written.
DeleteI knew you had "parts" poetry. One reason I decided to go with it even though I knew it was a tough prompt. And just curious, did you ever go look up the paintings to see what they actually looked like?
DeleteYes Tad, you do bring still life to real life with your astounding talent for imagery! Very well written!
DeleteI think the one with the dogs may have been from a short story. And the other...that must have come from something, but again whatever it was, I don't think it was about the painting more than as background. I don't think I could have looked it up.
DeleteI found it. it's from a lovely article about three sisters who run a bookstore.
Deletehttp://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/06/23/the-book-refuge
This one is different. Not broken into numbered parts, but each stanza takes up a different character.
ReplyDeleteTHE FINAL ACT
Are you saying that when someone puts
a gun on the stage, then a poet must shoot himself
in the final act?
James Finnegan
The doctor
observes the gun
pearl grey Smith and Wesson
sighs with heavy
foreknowledge
the baker smooths his
hands along his apron
still leaves flour
prints on it
as he passes it
the landscape architect
sets it down then
picks it up
he mutters about
gophers but his mind is
on his mistress
still in bed
she has her own gun
she’s the poet’s mother
and she wakes up
damp and cold
wondering why she
was dreaming about him
and why his hands
are moist too
talk about imagery coming to life! gave me chills it was so alive!
DeleteI know these are separate but I get the feeling of the gun being passed hand to hand. As always, great imagery, particularly like the personification of the gun sighing with foreknowledge.
Deletein this short poem there is a multitude of stories. The imagery produces mind movies that are very intriguing. I enjoyed this one immensely.
DeleteI am so impressed by the poems here, and somewhat daunted. You all seem to me to be so prolific so quickly, while I need nearly all the week to come up with a poem to fit the prompts. I have something in mind however it is still gestating and as I work on it it will get more real. Kudos to all for wonderful, interesting, Linda's yours is entertaining as well--poems. Hope to have something up soon.
ReplyDeleteParts of the Dark
ReplyDeleteAm I in the dark?
Or are I in the know?
If I feel my way along
will I be guided where to go?
Seeds only sprout
when they are in the dark.
They seek the light
when the time is right.
If there were no dark
when would I sleep?
Or would I keep
the shades down?
The womb too is dark
that the soul within may rest.
The dark is restful;
growth needs rest to be.
If I see through a glass darkly now
will I know what I see
when I come face to face
with the light?
The dark is only the light
inside out.
I remember well the words of one of my teachers who told me, "Get to know the dark as well as the light." Wise words.
ReplyDelete