Home
Home was my head resting in the crook of your shoulder, protected by the curve of your arm.
Home was my finger running up and down the silky skin of your brown, muscular thigh.
Home was the touch of my lips on your neck, the sound of my whisper in your ear.
Home was your tongue easing my lips apart while the sweet warmth of my cunt held you tight.
Home was the weight of my worry and the shadows under your eyes.
Home was the sound of the shower in the morning, and the cup of coffee on the nightstand, and the notes we passed back and forth to each other under our pillows.
Home was the two of us walking along the beach, needing no words, content in our silence.
Home was the feel of the rough stubble on your chin and your hands caressing my curly, wild hair.
Home was the paired beauty of my strength and insecurity, your stability and dread.
Home was your scent, a mixture of chlorine and aftershave, filling up the dresser drawer.
Home was your back snuggled against my belly, my arm thrown over your shoulder.
Home was my sure hands kneading your shoulders and pressing the knots from your back.
Home was watching you repair the cracks in the china teapot and wondering if it would ever be the same.
Home was sitting on the deck with you as the sun set, watching the apple tree blossoms drift slowly to the grass below.
Home was lost in a startling split second made up of a million and one moments of fear and despair that had come before, slipped in the back door, quietly, desperately, and
lingered in the hall, purposely ignored
until home was gone.
Comments please - I've been fussing with this poem far too long. I would appreciate reader's response (what the poem makes you feel and think) and constructive criticism- what works, what doesn't. Thanks.
Home was my finger running up and down the silky skin of your brown, muscular thigh.
Home was the touch of my lips on your neck, the sound of my whisper in your ear.
Home was your tongue easing my lips apart while the sweet warmth of my cunt held you tight.
Home was the weight of my worry and the shadows under your eyes.
Home was the sound of the shower in the morning, and the cup of coffee on the nightstand, and the notes we passed back and forth to each other under our pillows.
Home was the two of us walking along the beach, needing no words, content in our silence.
Home was the feel of the rough stubble on your chin and your hands caressing my curly, wild hair.
Home was the paired beauty of my strength and insecurity, your stability and dread.
Home was your scent, a mixture of chlorine and aftershave, filling up the dresser drawer.
Home was your back snuggled against my belly, my arm thrown over your shoulder.
Home was my sure hands kneading your shoulders and pressing the knots from your back.
Home was watching you repair the cracks in the china teapot and wondering if it would ever be the same.
Home was sitting on the deck with you as the sun set, watching the apple tree blossoms drift slowly to the grass below.
Home was lost in a startling split second made up of a million and one moments of fear and despair that had come before, slipped in the back door, quietly, desperately, and
lingered in the hall, purposely ignored
until home was gone.
Comments please - I've been fussing with this poem far too long. I would appreciate reader's response (what the poem makes you feel and think) and constructive criticism- what works, what doesn't. Thanks.
posted by Bird | 10:00 PM
55 Comments:
I like it.
I like the mix of tenderness and reality, intimacy and normality.
Mostly I think I recognise myself in it - which is a gift given to writers - to communicate the intricacies of their own and others lives in such a way that it 'holds a mirror to life'.
You've done it well.
It is absolutely beautiful.
It works for me.
It comes from the soul.
The intermixing of the joyousness with the sadness reflects life in its most natural form.
It reflects the promise that what has been lost can be found, especially, if in another form.
Hopefully, home has been found again.
Thank you for sharing.
btw, quit fussing with it.
It is time to let it live on its own terms, just as you are.
And if I haven't said it before, I love it.
I love the mix of the figurative and literal to convey the true core of what "home" is. The turn at the end of the poem was well done. No more fussing - it works beautifully and flows well. ;)
This was good. Moving.
My stomach hurt when I read the last 2 verses...
You've allowed me to follow a trail of intimacy, giving glimpses of trouble along the way...and caused me to grieve over what was lost- over what "could have been".
I hope my own story has a happier ending...
Thanks for letting me know this was here~ well done.
hallo vogel,
is sorrowful and beauty too an intimacy shared. ik denk the wording of "c" is hard een deel van een dame vogel, seeming to be harsh in some way. ik houd van best the wording of paired beauty of you attributed together. ik denk dread is curious emotion. you missing die mens? love him still somehow, ja? is okay to keep loving and still to say goed tot ziens. vogel, i keeping you my hart en mening vandaag.
vaarwel voor nu,
freya
i appreciate the compliments - here are my concerns with the poem:
it is a series of descriptions without a "so what" until the very end - so the descriptions must carry the reader through - i'm wondering if the descriptions are too many -the first 5 stanzas seem tight and flow well together, but after that the stanzas seem rough - maybe too many, mabye the stanzas are too unconnected after that? yet most of you feel it does flow...hmmm...
sounds like from reader repsonse that the work does resonate on a univerasal plain, which is good - 'cause othewise, it's too confessional - and i abhor confessional poetry just for the sake of confession. hahaha! of course, this is a fictionalized piece of my life - it's true, but not all real, if you know what i mean.
jack - you say it "reflects the promise that what has been lost can be found, especially, if in another form." hmmmm... i think that might be another poem - paired with this....that idea that home can be found or made again, though i'm not sure i see where in this poem that sentiment comes through.
again, many thanks to all (hope others weigh in as well) and please talk back to me about this.
freya - you were posting your comment as i posted mine - so i missed yours.
hmmmm....that word dread - yes, it is curious, isn't it? i am not sure yet if that is the right word, still circling with that - figuring out what i want to evoke there and what the right word is to capture that part.
what do you mean the wording of "c" - come back freya and explain that - i'm not sure what part you're referring to.
yes, on a personal note, i have been missing the man this week. not sure why. my life is full and rich, but ...(now this is far too confessional - hahaha!)
vogel,
i speaking of the werd cunt. is my understanding as insulting. is using omte kwetsen.to hurt a dame.
perhaps you choose as you own property. is not kritek vogel!
you confession is similar to many lovers. take a kiss from blomens of appel okay?
freya
" a startling split second..."
"sneaked in through the back door...."
what?
me, too, I guess...
but, what happened?
Dang...it was so warm and fuzzy, then BOOM! gone.
very nice work, but, startlingly reminiscent of a terrible moment in my own life.
what happened?
There was a we, and then there was only me.
bird, the promise of things to come are mine. Your words led me to that. Others may find a different meaning. I am the forever optimist. It is probably the yin and yang of the piece.
As for the number of stanzas. I was drawn through all of them without wanting to stop. I think it stands on its own as it is.
It is beautiful.
Uhhh, Boyed
I am you, you captured me, and anyone else that had captured love like a butterfly and lost it to the flutter of priceless wings dusting color on the palms encasing it until wings were transparent and love flew no more.
your poem is good, the end is not finished, in my opinion. the whallop it packs should be harder, bigger, (anti?) orgasmic. you say so much in the piece yet the ending is not as strong as it should be for the passing of notes under pillow and the use of the word cunt.
I think the reader needs more at the end, more of the hurt, more description.
Home was burnt by bitter trust once sweet and now laid spoiled on table for all to view crip and charred ...inedible. Home smolders and the smoke is still in my nose, tearing my eyes and choking me. i no longer have a palate for home.
I dunno, I mean, it SEEMS like betrayal, but I want, as a reader to KNOW what happened.
so that's my honest opinion.
I got the shivers from your words though, you spoke on love, and that is quite clear.
it translates to everyman well, the mark of an excellent piece.
thanks for sharing
I really want for you to read my Tuesday post. third one down...
it is entertaining, i promise.
hmmmm....interesting take here infini - more at the end...
i will ponder that. i want the end to pack a punch, to be a jolt. but i also want it quick. abrupt.
i love your phrasing for teh destruction of home, though that's not what i want to convey - loss is what i want to convey (but your words are very powerful - you should write a poem that loops off a this - why not?).
now here's a question for anyone and everyone - freya was concerned by theword "cunt" (and freya - I DID indeed what criticism - just didn't understand part of your first comment) -
but here's the question - does the word distract? i mean, i don't mean it negatively at all - but as, freya puts it - as my own property - so in a sense reclaiming it. but that's not my point in the poem - so i'm wondering if the use of the word distracts a reader, takes a reader to a different place. so perhaps cunt isn't the right word to use here.
but i am bored with the word vagina. will have to play around with that (hahahah - no pun intended there at all!)
jack, i reread your first comment before yo posted your second and it occurred to me that the reinventing of home is something you would wish for me or the "persona" of the poem. thanks.
boneman - yes - startling split second - and yet - when you look back, after the fact, don't you see it coming?
and i am still fussing with this. regardless. have another revision alreayd, but am doing some more messing about with words. i love the craft part of this. hahaha!
i'll post the revision when it's done.
Good, I'm glad you'll post the revision. The hard "c" sound of "cunt" seems to be antithetical to the soft warmness you are conveying in that line. Pussy, althoug also cliche, seems to invoke a little more softness and "hominessm," so to speak.
Cunt? Pussy? I think we need some new words here. Whaddya think?
hallo vogel
i do agree with disguised. a metaphor or a werding of you own maaking or something. when i read the werd cunt which ido not even want to write down, i am stopping cold right then in the poetry. is word falling like a thud to the ground.
oh, you mean "those" lips!!! hmm... I like it, but I too was caught off guard by the C-word... not that that was bad... if to shock was your intent... "pussy" is sexier, but that's just me, and may not be your intent...
this poem makes me think "erotic longing" - sexy but sad at the same time... you don't really need direction... these are your ideas and you should present them however you want...
PS - if you are tired of "vagina," which is somewhat clinical, why not try one of these:
"ladies' tinkle"
"woman's pee-pee"
LOL I kid!
PS - if you are tired of "vagina," which is somewhat clinical, why not try one of these:
"ladies' tinkle"
"woman's pee-pee"
LOL I kid!
if
cunt is right
then
cunt is right
personally, i've always distrusted poetry by committee
/t.
I dig it, Birdie.
My eye caught your concern about the distractions without the "So What." Poetry hardly demands a clearly articulated "so what" (clearly, you've spent too much time in the academy).
P.S. listen to NOTHING that pete bogs has to say; in fact, that goes for the lot of these puritans. Pussy does nothing for your reader.
Cunt forshadows the undercurrent of pain, hardness, sadness, the shifting sands (lest we forget, this is written in past tense--was, was, was). Home was (i.e. is no more). This poem does NOT need to be softened. Cunt helps to illustrate the contrasting past and present.
uh, I meant descriptions without the "so what"
OK Boyed,
A spinoff it shall be!
Was already writing one in my head, but did not want to "rip you off"
love,
me
So, to reply to fredd, I would suppose it would depend on the writer's intent at that point--foreshadowing or not. Now that we've analyzed this beautiful piece to death, I just want to add: It's wonderful.
ah, but i do appreciate the analysis and criticism - i did ask for it!
now it's time for me to ponder all this feedback and make my own, informed authorial choices.
/t - not poetry by committee - but getting a read on the work from the perspective of others - and checking to see if the affect i want to make is the affect people are feeling. in the end, it comes down to authorial control - and believe me, i will exercise it.
hahahaha!
flap/flap/off to warp some minds.
swoosh!
btw, i forgot to add - savage dear - appreciate your comments - sharp and crystal clear. more for me to consider. yes, clearly, indeed, i have dwelt in the ivory tower too long (and yet - such a short span of history)
hahahahahahahahahahahaha!
uh - oh - losing it.....
fly you fools, fly!
I am making effort for liftoff. I shall keep flapping. Who knows, I might make it yet.
Swoosh!
i have a poerm, bird...
boom boom boom
clean your room
swap
swap
floosh
are you drinking?
Hi bird. What is home now?
i did find that 'c' word quite distracting - like a blood spot on a fine linen blouse. so much so it prevented me from reading to completion. it seems to me so out of place here, in something so equisite. there are many other alternatives, other than bogs' choices. the lotus flower is always a good alternative. just my reaction to this.
:D
a puritan? MOI? surely you jest!!! mine was an aesthetic suggestion, not a moralistic one... I'm down with the "Big C" - as I've often said, it's my favorite "food group"
puritan - AS IF!
Yeah, ok ok.
Not only saw it coming, but, probably "helped" it along, even though protesting.
Hindsite is way better twenty twenty than fore sight, eh?
On the other hand, Pete Bogs brings up a point that my lit prof dropt on us back in college.
All words have a "charge" if you will.
Positive, negative and neutral.
Finding the right charge to the whole is no easy thing t'do.
That's why, when I leave poetry behind on comments, the measuring wasn't always done very well.
I "shoot from the hip" so t'speak, where you are making noises (metaphorically, at least....I dunno, but, I can't actually imagine you are grunting while you type...) (well, if you WANT to grunt while you type, y'see, that's OK.....I'm just saying...oh)
You sound as if you are more interested in the implicationms made from the piece-meal of the whole instead of the whole.
And, sure. You DO run the risk of alienating some people....
it happens.
.....but, if you feel cunt is fit well into the space, then, go fer it!
I like it, and, actually didn't need fer ya to tell me it again. You were right in the poem itself.
We do see it coming, though, probably don't WANT to recognize it.
Maybe it will get better, somehow.
Or, not.
I am going to write some sexually oriented posts... they get a serious amount of comments!!!
my "sex post" as you call it is the piece of wood at the head of my bed! lol...
seriously, I still have to write that sex post up, but in the meantime I have several other topics to cover... stay tuned...
/bark bark bark
gotta barn burner over here boyedie! pete: funny comments. favorite food group. Howl!!!!! bed post Howl!!
/grrrr
fly over to my blog for a mind numbing tribute to the little children burning
I got a poem for ya:
boom boom boom
that's some freaking room
dawg! you finally come by! i missed ya! chirp!chirp!chirp! (the bird's equivalent to circling and wagging)
bogs!
hey - aren't i a good straight man (guffaw) - i set you up very nicely for that line there, now didn't i? heeheehee!
boneman (and VAT too) - i haven't made up my mind about "cunt." i am still playing with the revision- i am a tinkerer. actually, i enjoy the tinkering as much as i do the first flush of writing. now tell me boney - how does that relate to painting?
FGH: nice to see you again. how are you doing these days?
CT: what room are you talking about?
I have read it again, and it still moves me. The intimacy, the joy and dread of being together. The anticipation of being together when apart. The fear that the end might come. The mind-numbing truth when it does come. The trepidation to go down that path again, yet, perhaps, the need to go down that path or a similar one.
Ahhh, the mysteries of life.
(For those put off by the "c" word, perhaps it is a signal to look inward and discover why a word brings so much anxiety. Just a thought.)
As I have said before, bird, QUIT tinkering with it. lol, guffaw, snerx, snoogle and a hearty chuckle.
You never told me what kind of car you bought. What kind?
Let me guess....
a "cuntry sedan"?
Writing and painting are so closely intermeshed that one of my favorite books for getting goin' paintin' is actually a "meditations" book fer writers. And, also the name of my blog.
Walking on Alligators is a brilliant piece of literature that helps peel away the scales of negativity on our eyes and gets us sat down t'writing or stood up t'paintin'.
Susan Shaughnessy wrote it, though I've never found anything else by her, and fer the life of me have been unsuccessful at tracking her down t'ask permission t'use her book title as my blog name.
And, gosh....I hope she'll say OK if she ever does contact me. I've gotten attached to it and all.
Tinkering?
Ha!
Do it all the time. I try not to, but, things catch yer attention after the paint is down and y'find yerself wanting to change things a bit.
Like that memorial picture I painted. There was a small version of the towers up in the sky on the left, and although that was actually the concept I had envisioned at first, it suddenly struck me as redundant what with the lights shining and all.
So, I painted them out.
I kind'a think I'll do it again, only differently....with the towers in the sky, on clouds, and the city way far down and away....
maybe a talk bubble coming out of the towers saying
"hey! We invited osama bin laden and george dubya to this party, too. where are they?"
OK, maybe not the talk bubble.
bird,
good morning -- and thank you for your comments at codepo()
jack,
i've never been particularly troubled by the "c" word, or "a" other "w", with exception "o" a "f" "w", of "c" -- "w" "l" in "t" "t"
boneman,
i drive one one of those -- nice!
/t.
/t, it's great to learn I may just be in good company. lol
regarding the C-word, as many of you know every word has both a denotation (what it literally means) and a connotation (what it suggests to you); the issue here is the latter... it's purely subjective, but "cunt" connotes "prostitute," a particularly unpleasant woman or a particularly unpleasant vagina, for starters... in other words, nothing pleasant - from my POV... yet in this instance the word is representing a pleasant thing... that incongruity is what gives some of us pause in our comments, I think... for what it's worth...
/bark bark bark
it's the "i" before "e" except after "C" i hate! and then there's "cat" the first C word anybody ever learns to read...now that i think about it theres a ton of bad "c"s
grherhaha
damn about the poker game boyedie! ever since the duel ive been thinking about a money game we could all play. winner takes all kinda thing.
i am leaving you a comment in the yard later. you reminded me of our old times.....back in our fire and passion stage grrrrhererhhaa...my vow to steal you away from another dog. a poodle wasnt it?
/howl
peace!
looks like you got home from Thailand just in time to miss the coup!
bird, what kind of bird are you?
bogs,
yes, i've seen the news and have an email out to my friends in thailand. i am not sure what to think of the coup. thasin was corrupt as can be and the king and queen are actually pretty good, so i assume this general can't be all bad and must have had a silent nod from the king - still, a coup - yousa! (though it was absolutely bloodless). in part, i wish we could have one here - though i think i'd prefer bush in office to a military overthrow of the government (even if that coup put in place someone i agreed with. course, we did have a bloodless coup -back in 2000. sigh.)
little lamb:
i am an arctic tern - which has the longest migratory path of any bird on the planet. i am a small bird with a rather large wing span and trek from the arctic to antarctic on my regular migratory path. i am known to take interesting side trips - i.e., i dont follow a direct, linear route but visit and meander here and there in usually but not always predicatble ways.
dog: yes you stole me away from that poodle, who i must confess was not nearly as interesting nor as heartfelt and geniune as you (i can't imagine the poodle EVER taking the time to really see me, acknowledge me, and then express that knowledge back to me in the form of lovely sketches).
hahahahah - i recall that i chastised you and though you followed me to my roost to lay down your browns, it didn't take so very long to figure out you were a dog of intelligence and compassion - not to mention wit and talent. wow - how's that for a tribute? geesh!
tribute notwithstanding, i'll squawk at your or poop on you when i see fit - as you well know - hahaha!
You like to do different things.
/bark bark bark
*whew* im fannin' my self over here all hot with pride. thank you boydie. and yes i KNOW you'll drop a warm white on me when ive got em coming. grrrherhaha
/howl
Oh Bird, the last stanza of this is almost too painful to bear.
I've just gone through and read all the other comments.
"Cunt" has gone through some changes in usage recently in the UK - more people are using it, it seems to be (possibly?) losing its shocking/nasty/negative connotations i think, at least for some people. I think theres quite a huge difference between talking about "my" cunt, and calling someone a cunt. Not at all sure about pussy though, not sure why.
And I don't think this needs any more at the end - I think more would detract from the impact. As it is it makes the point so powerfully about how suddenly things can fall apart - and yet, its not really sudden.
This is a powerful poem.
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