Thread: The White Dress

Freshly pressed fabric
carefully ironed herself;

Sleeveless white summer dress
laid out on cream satin bedding.

Slipping into starched dress;
linen tickling her legs
up the slow moving.

She wonders about her hair.
Cascading?

A chignon it would be
if he chooses to undress it.

Pale blue foyer,
gold table
with crystal vase
for white tulips.

Cup shaped, silken
nearly ready to unfold.

She in the white dress,
dark hair,
near white flora.

He’ll smile.

To the minute he’s there.
He waltzes her down the corridor
and she giggles as only a girl can do.

A drive to the ocean,
the ocean which makes
for a kind of ambrosia.
Salt spraying lips.

The blanket, picnic basket, wine.

A second date.
Never so romantic;
a boy, never so handsome.

Dusk setting.
Each kiss,
a moment into her future
as he traces
the white seaming of her dress.

She's flushed.
Never before,
touched in such a way.

Her body, a river.
Her mind, moonlight.

Goosebumps are birthed
as he kisses her neck.
More love,
passion; yet.

And in this white dress
she feels like a white dove,
in flight.

His gentle touch,
then the touch of the
ocean's breeze,
makes for no
small heaven.

She could not tell you
when the lightening storm began
for her mind was circling in the current.

Hands, voracious;
the quick slide of the zipper
deafening the love song
of the waves.

Her mind pressed
more than her body.

Before the demolition of the pink wall.

Lighting struck again and again,
then gone...

She alone,
shard,
next to an empty picnic basket.

The white dress
with raspberry spottings,
now, rolled up
in a hat box.

She looks to it,
a coffin for a
dead white dress,

where all her summers will lie.

I loved this!

I loved the use of verbs: "slipping", "tickling", "moving", "cascading", really reflects the sweet gentle nature of the girl, whilst the imagery creates a sense of unsuspecting calm, and then...

Hands, voracious;
the clack of the zipper
deafening the love song
of the waves.

creates a fantastically energetic turning point in the poem, and "shards of herself" is just brilliant.

The only bit I would criticise is the ending:

She looks to it;
coffin for
a dead white dress,

whilst it is a dramatic end-point, it also seems a little cliched, but then that might just be me.

Overall, a great read!

Thank you very much, chez. Here, my protagonist is a young girl who looses her virginity to date rape. My real challenge was how to describe the rape without being too graphic", spoiling the "whitenses - purity" of the poem. So, I approached it metaphorically, hoping it wouldn't slip by the reader.

I also want to thank you for taking the time to quote your favored wordings and lines. Your review, very much appreciated. Laurie

A powerful read, and so sad given the number of times an innocent girl/woman is traumatized so severely by date rape. I like the end w/ the reference to the hat box as a coffin... I don't think the intro line to that stanza adds much, and it might be stronger going into the just the final two lines of the piece.

Very minor detail, I enjoyed the piece...

MsL.

Freshly pressed fabric
carefully ironed herself;

I hear what you're saying MsL. I wanted to get across that she tended to the dress dearly, carefully. And starting out with the fresh only to become dirty in a hat box in the end. But eliminating these first two lines and begining with the next would work well, also.

Yes. It is tragic, and the trickery involved... Thank you for your appreciation of my piece and compassion. Laurie

This -

carefully ironed herself

immediately made me go " ooooh yes ! " the first time I read it, and still does 5 times later. I and my father got into a long discussion about what poetry was once. I still love his answer " It is the song of emotion sung in compressed, precise language. " and THAT is exactly what I saw here. We girls "iron" ( straiten, fold , crease ) ourselves into the image we have in our heads of beauty as well as the image we think others want to see. You said that in what on the surface seems like a very casual image, BUT says sooooooooooooo much more , and you said it three little words ! BRAVO !

Secondly I have to comment on the wonderful over all tone of this. I have several "dark" writes, and have always been of the belief that when dealing with something that might be "overly emotional" , take the tone down. It gives you a certain since of control to write it, as well as doubling the impact of what you are trying to say. You did that beautifully here as well.

Fine tune this with extremely sharp precision. It speaks to the best of poetry, and I have no doubt to the best of you

Thank you so much, Maggie, for your esteem of my poem.

We girls "iron" ( straiten, fold , crease ) ourselves into the image we have in our heads of beauty as well as the image we think others want to see

That is "exactly" what I wanted to get across. This young girl was taking pride in herself and hoping to create an image appealing to her second date with this monster of a boy. And of course, this was revealed at the very endi. Not a hint of him being a criminal before. This is a criminal act.

I have many "dark writes". This is the first one I've posted here and more will follow. I deal with The Nature of the Human Condition, exploring the complexity of it. I have a saying. "I rarely write about flowers unless there are weeds." and this "is" about the Human Condition. It's just how I write.

Maggie, thank you so much for appreciating this poem. Laurie

Gripping. That basically sums this up. I really liked the last part regarding the coffin. The depiction of death with regards to the loss of purity was vividly delivered.

Thank you, Fuhrer. A tragic plight for so many young women. I wanted to impart the intensity of it all. Thank you so much for your comments. Laurie

I didn't 'get' this was about rape at first, but on the second read it becomes a lot clearer, especially with the clever reference to the storm.

This;

"A drive to the ocean;
the ocean which makes
for a kind of ambrosia,
Salts spraying lips"

Is brilliant.

And the ending - in my humble opinion - is perfectly fitting for the hum of this poem.

So glad you brought this one over here, Laurie. It's one of my favorite of yours, very tastefully handled, I believe.

Thank you, NST. It is a distrubing piece and needed to bring attention to the crime. Very thankful for your giving words. Laurie

Thank you, Cindy. Glad you can still appreciate it. Yes. The rape was a tricky thing to manage without being grossly crude, so I used the metaphor of the lighting bolt. Laurie

I'm late to the party but with good reason. I debated with myself long and hard as to whether I should divulge the following (which I didn't when you posted this elsewhere) but then decided it was okay. Unfortunately, I know your girl's pain first hand. I lost my purity in similar circumstances, although no sea was involved, which I am grateful for. It would have spoiled the ocean for me which is where I find most of my peace. Lesson learned: only drink with those you know you can trust. No white dress nor hatbox for me. Just jeans and a blouse that got tossed in the trash. Having what was my most precious possession stolen from me, changed me, and not for the better. You've captured the horror of this brilliantly and tastefully. Kudos, love.

Warmest,
Lisa

Nice job, Laurie. Not sure why, but I had a feeling it would take a turn.

I'm sure it's an awfully hard thing to write about. I'm fixin' to post a story in which a rape is the pivotal event. Oddly enough, it takes place at a beach. The denouement has to do with the MC reclaiming "her" beach, that she loves, where she grew up, that she feels was stolen from her.

My only nit -- "clack" as the description of the sound a zipper makes. It seems a little off, although I can't think of anything better offhand.

Thanks for a good read. Well done.