Thread: Fragment of a Lost Year

slow, low buzz of solo sax,
wet pavement hiss of brush on snare,
above discordant, rush hour rumbling
tumbling, drunken, dusk descending.

collapsing on your musty futon,
like imploding vacant towers,
cast shadows, frantic, on cracked plaster,
beneath the swinging forty-watt.

you gyrate, slit-eyed, stoned and sleepy,
razor hipped, white like bone,
whispering prayers of numbed devotion,
cloaked in violet black-light glow.

morning splits the smoke-stained curtain,
illuminating night’s destruction.
the dope-sick siren sings, atonal
this wasted day, our dull reprise.

Trip to New Orleans huh? Liked the imagery and the assonance and alliteration.

You know how I told you to personalize your last piece thereby giving it a more universal appeal ? Well this one has worked in reverse, and very much to your benefit Joseph. Stanza 3 blew me away and this

morning splits the smoke-stained curtain

is dead on the money and yet rings a very original bell. I honestly see nothing wrong with this for the most part.

I do like the way you describe things

Poetry always takes me a few reads. Funny that I read this the first time and wasn't sure what I was seeing. I saw a stoned girl and that was about it.
Now I see it all. This is rich, Joe.

I'm not sure what else to say about it. The subtleness of this -

like imploding vacant towers,
cast shadows, frantic, on cracked plaster,

Blew me away.


*grumbles* off to delete what I've been trying to write, and start again. Haha.

Nice piece man. It reminded me why I've cut down on all that 'fun stuff' the last year. After finishing the piece, the title seemed a little over-kill. But I mean, if that's the situation, it's all good(!) Just for the philosophical thought, whether it's a day or a year like this, the sentiment is quite the same.

vangoghsear, Actually, I was going to call it "What I Did Over My Summer Vacation." And I didn't know what assonance was. Thanks!

MaggieG, Thanks for reading and commenting. I'm not really sure what you mean about working in reverse, though. I'm a tad slow sometimes.

Like a Fox, Thanks for reading. Glad you see it. I always have to read poems multiple times. That you wanted too is the good part.

Martin, Cut down, huh? You could be right about the title. It does mean something to me, but maybe the poem says enough. Thanks for reading.

These lines really caught my imagination, Joe. Good job!

wet pavement hiss of brush on snare,

you gyrate, slit-eyed, stoned and sleepy,
razor hipped, white like bone,

morning splits the smoke-stained curtain,
illuminating night’s destruction.

Thanks for reading, Gumby!

MaggieG, Thanks for reading and commenting. I'm not really sure what you mean about working in reverse, though. I'm a tad slow sometimes.

By being "non personal" you have opened the door for a variety settings making the piece more accessible to everyone. ( ie- insert whatever time, and place you like ) This works incredibly well for this piece while I felt it worked less well for your prior piece

Assonance sans intention, you, my dear Joe, are a prodigy. I doubt any of us can honestly say we haven't shared that "dull reprise". Like Van, I truly dug the sounds. Although I loved your last, this one has a universality that can't be denied. I also adored the lines cited by Cindy. Great imagery, great piece.

Joe, describing someone's work as being "brilliant" can come across, after a matter of time, as a "throw away" word.

Now, concerning just your imagery, I will say you "brilliant" the page. And I never use throw away words.

Wonderful alliteration. Then I get that "smokey" feel. Then this "hiss" of the wet pavement had my mind doing happy a somersault. Accomplished in just two lines!

slow, low buzz of solo sax,
wet pavement hiss of brush on snare

I were to point out the imagery which struck me as being artful, I'd have to quote your entire poem. Just magnificent! Laurie

Thanks SilverMoon. I really appreciate that. I like happy somersaults. I wasn't sure if hiss would come as I intended -- and that it meant the sound cars make on wet pavement. Is that what you got?

P.S. On reading it, I've decided I like the word somersault. Expect to see it in poem near you!

Hey JB, this is fine work that rewards repeated reading. I'll make a couple of suggestions, which you may, or may not, agree tend to add a bit more juice to the proceedings.

Originally Posted by JosephB

slow, low buzz of solo sax,
wet pavement hiss of brush on snare,
scores discordant rush hour rumbling
tumbling, drunken, dusk descending.

collapsing on your musty futon,
like imploding vacant towers,
frantic shadows on cracked plaster cast,
beneath the swinging forty-watt.

you gyrate, slit-eyed, stoned and sleepy,
razor hipped, white like bone,
whispering prayers of numbed devotion, this stanza rocks
cloaked in violet black-light glow.

morning splits the smoke-stained curtain,
illuminating night’s destruction.
the dope-sick siren sings, trumpets
this wasted day, our dull reprise.

Lisa, Sorry I missed your post. My bad.

I wouldn't say "Assonance sans intention" really. That's what I was going for -- I just didn't know what it was called. Thanks for reading.

JR, Thanks. I think I know what you had in mind and that is, somehow bring an instrument back into it, to bring it full circle. I really did try to do that, and thought of trumpet too, but I just couldn't make it work or sound good. I like your idea, but I don't think it has quite the kind same kind of rhythm to it, which is pretty key in this one, I think. As always, I appreciate your suggestions.

One thing I think I'm going to lose is "rumbling, tumbling." The more I read it, the more I think it sounds like something from Winnie the Pooh.

A really niece piece of writing Joe.

I have to agree with what everyone else said about this piece... its mind blowing.

The imagery and creativity of this work is utterly delightful, it makes you want to roll a splif and join you in this comforting world where PEACE is all in the mind.. lol

wacker