.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

Bird's Blog

Poetry, musings, observations, commentary, rants, confessions...and who knows what else!

My Photo
Location: San Francisco Bay Area

Teacher, writer, poet, grandmother, lover, wine-drinker, chocolate eater, beach comber, hiker, traveler, Giants fan, San Franciscan. All work on this blog is copyrighted material.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Despite admonishments to stop tinkering, I continued to tinker. I've tinkered with words, line breaks, punctuation, images, foreshadowing. I think the poem is stronger now, tighter. And I have most definately kept the word "cunt." But here's the revision, as promised:


Home was my head nesting in the crook of your shoulder, protected by the curve of your arm
my finger running up and down the silky skin of your brown, muscular thigh
the touch of my lips on your neck, the sound of my whisper in your ear
your tongue easing my lips apart, our breathe mingling
while the sweet warmth of my cunt held you tight
a perfect fit.

Home was the weight of my worry and the shadows under your eyes.

Home was the rough stubble on your chin gently scraping my cheek
your hands caressing my curly, wild hair
the shower running in the morning, the coffee cup on the nightstand
and the notes we passed back and forth to each other under our pillows.

Home was the paired beauty of my strength and insecurity, your fear and tenacity.

Home was your scent, a mixture of chlorine and aftershave filling up the dresser drawer
my purple slippers tossed carelessly atop your loafers
your back snuggled against my belly, my arm thrown over your shoulder.

Home was watching you repair the cracks in the china teapot and wondering if it would ever be the same.

Home was the sun warming the deck as we sat watching the apple tree blossoms drift away from the green branches and fall reluctantly to the grass below.

Home was lost in a startling split second
made up of a million and one moments
of dread and despair that
had come before
had slipped in the back door, quietly, desperately, yet remained purposely ignored

until home was gone.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

very nice!

not to put
too fine a point
on this, but cunt here comes across with a certain 'familiarity, great intimacy' -- i think it works well within your poem -- very nice!


September 24, 2006 3:06 PM  
Blogger CROAK said...

You are comfortable with you and yours and what is 'home'. The ending always always gets me...sad.

September 24, 2006 6:57 PM  
Blogger Jack K. said...

I agree with /t, it is much better this way.

Thanks for educating in the fine art of tinkering.

It is sadly beautiful, and, yet, promises of another home with a different beauty.

Thanks for sharing.

September 25, 2006 4:48 AM  
Blogger Aunty Belle said...

Closing line is real fine, Honey. Still pulls sorrow from me innards--as it should.

But Bird Beauty, PURPLE slippers??? gak--din't ya read "When I am Old I Shall Wear Purple?"

Besides, men mostly despise purple (no kiddin'--a marketing website says men "hate" purple and doan use it on products marketed to menfolk:

"Colors Men Don't Like
Purple stands out as a feminine color because it is chosen almost exclusively by women as a favorite color and is strongly disliked by men. Men are less likely to respond favorably to other feminine favorites such as lavender and turquoise."

Write more poem, darlin'. They's pretty fine.

September 25, 2006 6:12 AM  
Blogger boneman said...

There's a b'zillion different colors purple....

I saw royal slippers tossed casually on loafers.
Probably sun bleached on parts.
Actually like this one, too, because it brought me t'face something I knew, but didn't own up to prior.
That I knew she was gonna leave.

But, dang. Now it's eighteen years later and I'm just an old man.


i should'a read it when i was younger, eh?

September 25, 2006 11:00 AM  
Blogger Aunty Belle said...

Boneman...ah, sugar pie, yep, prolly so. Assume there were clues that went unnoticed? Real sorry ter hear it. Dang.

September 25, 2006 5:09 PM  
Blogger Little Lamb said...

Ok, now I get it. A sex/love poem. More of a feeling comfortable with you type of poem.

September 25, 2006 6:04 PM  
Blogger K9 said...

/bark bark bark

boyed its still a heartbreaker, even for a dawg who subscribes to the "i'll probably feel a whole lot better when youre gone" approach.


September 25, 2006 7:53 PM  
Blogger Bird said...

many thanks all. i am much happier with this new version.

now hold on there boneman - don't say you're an old man! haha - you just never know what might come around the corner at you. but 18 years - she's been gone 18 years or after 18 years she left?

i think we always see it coming, we just ignore it - seems easier that way.

k9: my sister subscribes to the "FIDO" philosohpy - fuck it and drive on - hahahaha. but yup, the poem is suppose to express the heartbreak.

my my AB, the use of "cunt" gets no reaction from you - but you're up-in-arms over purple slippers - hahahahaha!

croak - glad the ending gets you- it's suppose to. yeehaw - success.

/t - yes, i think the c-word works in this - and better than the first time. i think it's the line breaks in part and the slight revision on the line the words appears in. tinkering - a useful thing i think.

September 25, 2006 11:36 PM  
Blogger Little Lamb said...

You forgot about me.

September 26, 2006 5:04 AM  
Blogger Bird said...

little lamb, you are unforgettable.

i just didn't address you (nor jack) directly.

but i included you both under "all."

i do not, though, think the poem is a love/sex poem. it is a poem about home and loss. love and sex of course are part of that.

then again, all love and sex poems are either about home or loss, or both. perhaps this is a newly discovered universal truth.

or not.

September 26, 2006 9:30 AM  
Blogger boneman said...

she tossed me out june 13 1988,
not quite a year after m'Ma died,
exactly one month after m'daughter was born.

September 26, 2006 10:01 AM  
Blogger K9 said...

/bark bark bark
FIDO! i like it!!!

boyedie said on bogs: i am bored with muslims and christians, liberals and consternatives, war and destruction. empty words and bankrupt actions (ooh, nice ring there eh - but just as empty and bankrupt as anything else).

word to ya mother grrrrrl


September 26, 2006 10:09 AM  
Blogger Little Lamb said...

I've added you to my blog list.

September 28, 2006 6:08 AM  
Blogger Aunty Belle said...

No no, Bird Beauty, I does not like that demeaning course reference to lady parts, an' I does think it is a mar on yore otherwise fine poem--but I knows ya' warn't gonna heed nuthin' Aunty said on that score. Jes' didn't wanna let that keep me back from saying ya did make us share fer a momennt how that time in yore life went down, the yearning, the raw regret--worth notin' fer shure. (But them purple slippers--yick!)

Boneman, how's ya daughter these days? Hope youse in her life.

September 28, 2006 6:58 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

for bird

September 28, 2006 8:02 PM  
Blogger Little Lamb said...

Bird, /t. is at it again, this time he did Dolly 7. One of my lambs.

September 28, 2006 8:05 PM  
Blogger Reverend X said...

I like it. The C*nt reference that is. Take control of the vernacular. The poem is beautiful. I don't like it. Wish you'd never had reason to write it. But it is beautiful.

September 29, 2006 5:48 AM  
Blogger ThursdayNext said...

It is always a great experience to watch an author go through the revision process; thank you for sharing this!

Bravo, the poem is powerful and has become tighter.

September 29, 2006 7:05 AM  
Blogger Crashtest Comic said...

I'm working on my own poem...
What ryhmes with cunt?

September 29, 2006 5:21 PM  
Blogger K9 said...

/bark bark bark

4th down came we had to punt
the football landed on her......

he was a midget, a scrawny runt
the perfect size to face her....

of all the jokes she was the brunt
her giant ass, her fleshy......

wel, you get the idea, crash.

hey boydie! basesballs over for us. and then we got to see mick vick have a sorry outing against the saints. grrrrrrr! so, you follow the 49ers?

happy saturday to ya!


September 30, 2006 7:20 AM  
Blogger K9 said...

/bark bark bark

"mike" vick is what i meant.


September 30, 2006 7:22 AM  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home