| Author | Message | ||
| LJ Cohen
Moderator Username: ljc Post Number: 3261 Registered: 07-2002 |
REVISED/RETITLED: Lucky in St. Bernard's Parrish Forty years sipping hurricanes on the verandah, easy laughter wafting on the heady scent of bougainvillea, raptured by jungle rot. Black and green wicks along walls, a pointillist painting of deadly spores. My light traces a river across the floor; a snake flows over the spine of a damp book, pages written with mildew's spidery hand. A large oak desk, overturned, a single drawer intact. Inside, a fountain pen, dried ink like tears of pitch stains the barrel. I wonder where Mr. Hadden is; his mail shellacked artfully to the glass coffee table. I draw breath, call out the cat's name, choke on fetid air. Faint mewling from above my head; a skeleton with patchy fur curled on a warped shelf. I lure him with food and precious water, the pull of the next name on my list as inexorable as gravity, the next storm building out to sea. Feral dogs slip from our clever traps, the pups I cannot save, the puzzled bitch still nuzzling their stiff bodies. Mr. Haddon's cat leaps into my arms as light as a shadow. A rain stick rolls off the shelf, rattles to a stop at my feet. I carry the cat outside, still hear the wind roar. -------------------- Still waiting for a better title on this one. Substantially revised from one of M's challenges a few weeks back. Forty years of mint juleps on the verandah, laughter wafting on the heady scent of bougainvillea, raptured by jungle rot. Black and green wicks along walls, a pointillist painting of deadly spores. My light traces a river across the floor; a snake flows over the spine of a damp book, pages written with mildew's spidery hand. A large oak desk, overturned, a single drawer intact. Inside, a fountainpen, dried ink like tears of pitch stains the barrel. I wonder where Mr. Hadden is; his mail shellacked artfully to the glass coffee table. I draw breath, call out the cat's name, choke on fetid air. Faint mewling from above my head; a skeleton with calico fur curled on a warped shelf. I lure him with food and precious water, the pull of the next name on my list as inexorable as gravity, the next storm building out to sea. Feral dogs slip from our clever traps, the pups I cannot save, the puzzled bitch still nuzzling their stiff bodies. Mr. Haddon's cat leaps into my arms as light as a shadow. A rain stick rolls off the shelf, rattles to a stop at my feet. I carry the cat outside, still hear the wind roar. ljc http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/ | ||
| Teresa White
Valued Member Username: teresa_white Post Number: 215 Registered: 01-2005 |
Lisa, Some great imagery in this --your first two stanzas are especially rich though they seemed to me to be introductory to where the poem begins for me in S3. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting you axe those first two! This all reads quite smoothly --a successful poem with a strong ending. One small nit: fountainpen is two words. Sorry, have no bright ideas for a title --I thought of calling it "Mr Haddon's Cat" but then you have that in the body of the work. Very impressive piece of writing! Teresa | ||
| ~M~
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 5764 Registered: 11-1998 |
Nice job on the revision, Lisa. The only place where a little more smoothing might be in order is right in that first verse: "Forty years of mint juleps on the verandah, laughter wafting on the heady scent of bougainvillea, raptured by jungle rot. Black and green wicks along walls, a pointillist painting of deadly spores. My light traces" Coming to this cold, a reader might wonder why laughter is wafting in a scene with this much destruction. I think you can fix that by making it clear that the laughter is just a ghost of the past. | ||
| LJ Cohen
Moderator Username: ljc Post Number: 3280 Registered: 07-2002 |
teresa--thank you for your comments. I'll make the change to 'fountain pen' and still mulling over a title.  M--thanks for coming back to this one. I'll smooth out the opening lines. Or maybe a better, more specific title would make it clear. best, ljc http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/ | ||
| LJ Cohen
Moderator Username: ljc Post Number: 3281 Registered: 07-2002 |
Hmmm--another thought for the opening line--too obvious? Or just right? Forty years sipping hurricanes on the verandah, laughter wafting on the heady scent of bougainvillea, raptured by jungle rot. http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/ | ||
| LJ Cohen
Moderator Username: ljc Post Number: 3290 Registered: 07-2002 |
And a new title. Posted above original. Thanks! ljc http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/ | ||
| Laurie Byro
Advanced Member Username: lauriette Post Number: 1368 Registered: 11-2003 |
I like this one alot. just read it again. I like "st bernard's parish" actually. Think it works. Up to you. Laurie | ||
| LJ Cohen
Moderator Username: ljc Post Number: 3354 Registered: 07-2002 |
Thanks, Laurie--appreciate you returning to this one. best, ljc http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/ |
