Thread: Breathlessness Can't Bully Me

On occasion,
I can't recall
how to breathe.
I'm not talking wheezing,
I actually can't inhale.

The souvenir shop
at the pre-corpse carnival
offers up freebies
(Tell all your friends!)
to every patron.
Proof of passage,
if you will.

A tourist's syllabic snapshot:

Essences ensconced
in faltering flesh
are suffused in silver shimmer
as memories are swirled
'round paper cones,
(nice and portable
so you can take them with you)
and the only game of chance
is which exit you'll use,
but it's rigged.

All rides are fitted
for the disabled.
Most patrons are compromised,
and those who aren't
are bewildered
and busy badgering barkers,
seeking an escape
from an unintended destination.
Those fit to amble
are reluctant to slog along
on lengthy lines
or leave for the light.

Sets of ears hear
their preference piped in.
Selective symphonic strains
to ease the strain
of transition.
There's a cobweb covered stand
hawking cure-alls,
but only rarely is it dusted off
and opened for business.
Only a Chosen few
are able to discern it.
Never a more apt scenario
to prove seeing is Believing.

Back to not breathing.
My shriveled balloons
forget to inflate
(just one of many keepsakes
from my carnival days)
and set themselves down
for a hazardous nap.

My faded reentry hand stamp
pulses with the hyperactive effort
of a pump delivering violet
when it's crimson
suffocating cells crave.

I used to panic.
Liters of air, everywhere,
yet I can't suck it in.

Now, my accustomed cerebrum
picks up my brain stem's slack
(my sympathetic nervous system
doesn't live up to its name)
and focuses every ounce of concentration
to rouse my pleural traitors.
Bombarded by electrical impulses,
turncoats stir.

Even lazy lungs can't deny
a jolt of juice,
(I'm sure Franky would concur)
and they finally offer up
their best puff fish impression.

I know the carnival awaits,
everyone passes through eventually.
Been there, done that,
got a helluva lot more
than a stinkin' T-shirt,
and I'll be damned if I allow
my freaking freebies
to force me back
before I'm ready.

But the third time's the charm,
isn't it?

On second thought,
perhaps I should let
sleeping lungs lie
and make returning
my first priority.

I really enjoyed this cd. It is sad, but whimsical and really says something about being brave. I'm not sure about the ending; the last two stanzas being a kind of afterthought which dissipates the defiant energy you built up so nicely.

cheers
J.R.

I like that defiant energy, as J.R. has called it. I hadn't thought about the last two stanza's detracting from that, until he mentioned it. Still, you have a definite way with alliterations and a humorous self depricating way with words that really shines here. This is one carnival I'm not anxious to attend.

I also really enjoyed the way this piece built up feelings of resistance. I was also a big fan of the (brackets) and all that goes into them. If I'm not over-reading S6 has some nicely put together religious imagery. I wanted to point out a little thing that might warrant a second look...

Most patrons are compromised,
and those who aren't
are bewildered
and busy badgering barkers
seeking an escape
from an unintended destination.

The phrase "and busy badgering barkers" is a bit confusing, at first I thought it should read as "by busy badgering barkers" but the image of patrons seeking escape that follows makes it seem as if the patrons are badgering the barkers, if so, a comma might help clarify. Hope my confusion is intelligible its late and I'm tired. as always nice work.
-Ian

Ah, ChestersDaughter. Always a pleasure.

Originally Posted by ChestersDaughter

On occasion,
I can't recall
how to breathe.
I'm not talking wheezing,
I actually can't inhale.

Excellent beginning, although I would take out the last two lines. You're overstating things, which is a tendency of yours that I've noticed. I have the same problem when I write prose, and it's a difficult thing to catch sometimes, so I can relate completely. But the effect of the beginning will be a lot stronger without those last two lines weighing it down.

The souvenir shop
at the pre-corpse carnival
offers up freebies
(Tell all your friends!)
to every patron.
Proof of passage,
if you will.

Consider removing the exclamation point?

Essences ensconced
in faltering flesh
are suffused in silver shimmer
as memories are swirled
'round paper cones,
(nice and portable
so you can take them with you)
and the only game of chance
is which exit you'll use,
but it's rigged.

What glorious fun these lines are. One tiny nitpick: "nice and portable". Consider changing it to something like this:

'round paper cones,
(portable so you can
take them with you)

Just makes things a bit tighter; and "nice" is such a weak, silly word.

All rides are fitted
for the disabled.
Most patrons are compromised,
and those who aren't
are bewildered
and busy badgering barkers
seeking an escape
from an unintended destination.
Those fit to amble
are reluctant to slog along
on lengthy lines
or leave for the light.

More deliciousness. <3

Sets of ears hear
their preference piped in.
Selective symphonic strains
to ease the strain
of transition.
There's a cobweb covered stand
hawking cure-alls,
but only rarely is it dusted off
and opened for business.
Only a Chosen few
are able to discern it.
Never a more apt scenario
to prove seeing is Believing.

Shouldn't "few" be capitalized too?

Now, my accustomed cerebrum
picks up my brain stem's slack
(my sympathetic nervous system
doesn't live up to its name)
and focuses every ounce of concentration
to rouse my pleural traitors.
Bombarded by electrical impulses,
turncoats stir.

What exactly is an "accustomed" cerebrum? I don't get it. Consider rewording.

I know the carnival awaits,
everyone passes through eventually.
Been there, done that,
got a helluva lot more
than a stinkin' T-shirt,
and I'll be damned if I allow
my freaking freebies
to force me back
before I'm ready.

But the third time's the charm,
isn't it?

On second thought,
perhaps I should let
sleeping lungs lie
and make returning
my first priority.

I would take out the space between "before I'm ready" and "But the third time's the charm." There really is no reason that I can see to isolate that bit.

Another issue with this bit are the words "helluva" and "stinkin'". I would take them out entirely. They just don't fit. I was going to suggest taking out "freaking" too, but I do like the alliteration, so I guess it's all right. It's probably more personal preference than anything else, but I hate "substitute" swear words; they just weaken writing so much.

A very interesting poem, this. Thank you, as always, for sharing.

Lisa-once again you have left me breathless--I mean it. I was holding my breath as I began to read this dark poem.I was dreading where you were going with this--but knew I had to follow...peace--Jul

Dear J.R., Thank you so much, those words mean a great deal coming from you. Okay, you got me. The ending was tacked on. Initially it was supposed to end on the defiant note, but the darn thing was around so long being tweaked and I wound up being thrust into a bad spell before its completion. The last lines are me being tired, and since I flit back and forth between defiance and almost capitulating, I can't decide which I prefer. Depending on when you catch me, either direction is the right one, lol, I'm hopeless.


Dear Cin, Fear not, the carnival is actually extremely peaceful if you can ignore the hubbub caused by the well ones seeking escape, lol, those poor lost souls broke my heart. Thank you for such glowing words, you know how much I depend on laughter being the best medicine, especially since it's free. lol.


Dear Ian, Thank you so much, my parentheses often draw scoffing. I'm so glad you caught the religious references which are oh so very important to the piece and to me. I could kiss you for mentioning them. You're right about "busy badgering...", I knew it was confusing, but for the life of me, couldn't figure out what it needed. Sometimes, we read our own so many times refining, the whole thing turns into a blur. That comma does the trick quite nicely.


Dear Bachelorette, The last two lines of S1 were tacked on at the last minute. The good Lord knows I'm always overstating, but it was important to me to rule out asthma or COPD, but I'll probably take those lines back out. The exclamation point must remain, it's their form of advertising. I'm considering your suggestion regarding the paper cones, it's more succinct, but I liked "nice and portable" for its sarcasm. I'm wasn't sure whether to capitalize few, I went back and forth, I'm still of two minds as I want the emphasis solely on Chosen. "accustomed cerebrum" means the thinking part of my brain is used to the automatic part screwing up so I no longer freak out. Since you've questioned it, I'll dig around to see if I can find something better to replace it with. I separated "the third time's the charm" because it's an afterthought and I think it requires a pause, will look more closely at that, also. The mock swear words are so unlike me, but I don't want a language warning on this piece, so they must remain. Just substitute the real thing because that's how I really speak, lol, my sailor mouth drove Ma crazy. I'm elated you liked the parts you liked, and truly appreciate your input, love.


Dear Jul, Your replies are always so clever, love, you duly dose me with life saving laughter and for that I can never thank you enough. Okay, take a deep breath, as I said to Cindy, it's not bad at all, providing it's your time. I hope I pulled you back out with me no worse for wear. lol.

Thanks so much, my dear friends, for once again sharing your orbs with me.

All the best, always,
Lisa

You know, it's not often I do this, but I'm going to suggest a radical change to this. Now, before I offer my suggestions, let me just say that the poem works very well as is. But knowing myself, and knowing you so far as I do, I'd like to see this puppy free of the whimsy. I want to look at it with just the sadness, as is my nature. Again, take it as you will, but let's see what happens:

Originally Posted by Chester's Daughter

On occasion,
I can't recall
how to breathe.
I'm not talking wheezing,
I actually can't inhale.

The souvenir shop
at the pre-corpse carnival
offers up freebies
(Tell all your friends!)
to every patron.
Proof of passage,
if you will.

A tourist's syllabic snapshot:

Essences ensconced
in faltering flesh
are suffused in silver shimmer
as memories are swirled
'round paper cones,
(nice and portable
so you can take them with you)
and the only game of chance
is which exit you'll use,
but it's rigged.

All rides are fitted
for the disabled.
Most patrons are compromised,
and those who aren't
are bewildered
and busy badgering barkers,
seeking an escape
from an unintended destination.
Those fit to amble
are reluctant to slog along
on lengthy lines I think this belongs on the previous line. It would fit the sentiment of the line so much better!
or leave for the light.

Sets of ears hear
their preference piped in.
Selective symphonic strains
to ease the strain
of transition.
There's a cobweb covered stand
hawking cure-alls,
but only rarely is it dusted off
and opened for business.
Only a Chosen few
are able to discern it.
Never a more apt scenario
to prove seeing is Believing.

Back to not breathing.
My shriveled balloons
forget to inflate
(just one of many keepsakes
from my carnival days)
and set themselves down
for a hazardous nap.

My faded reentry hand stamp
pulses with the hyperactive effort
of a pump delivering violet
when it's crimson
suffocating cells crave.

I used to panic.
Liters of air, everywhere,
yet I can't suck it in.

Now, my accustomed cerebrum
picks up my brain stem's slack
(my sympathetic nervous system
doesn't live up to its name)
and focuses every ounce of concentration
to rouse my pleural traitors.
Bombarded by electrical impulses,
turncoats stir.

Even lazy lungs can't deny
a jolt of juice,
(I'm sure Franky would concur)
and they finally offer up
their best puff fish impression.

I know the carnival awaits,
everyone passes through eventually.
Been there, done that,
got a helluva lot more
than a stinkin' T-shirt,
and I'll be damned if I allow
my freaking freebies
to force me back
before I'm ready.

But the third time's the charm,
isn't it?

On second thought,
perhaps I should let
sleeping lungs lie
and make returning
my first priority.

Thus it would read as so:

On occasion,
I can't recall
how to breathe –

The souvenir shop
at the pre-corpse carnival
offers up freebies.
to every patron.

Essences ensconced
in faltering flesh
are suffused in silver shimmer
as memories are swirled
'round paper cones.
The only game of chance
is which exit you'll use,
but it's rigged.

All rides are fitted
for the disabled.
Most patrons are compromised,
and those who aren't
are bewildered
and busy badgering barkers,
seeking an escape
from an unintended destination.
Those fit to amble
are reluctant to slog along on lengthy lines
or leave for the light.

Sets of ears hear
their preference piped in.
Selective symphonic strains
to ease the strain
of transition.
There's a cobweb covered stand
hawking cure-alls,
but only rarely is it dusted off
and opened for business.
Only a Chosen few
are able to discern it –

My shriveled balloons
forget to inflate.
I used to panic.
Liters of air, everywhere,
yet I can't suck it in.

I know the carnival awaits,
everyone passes through eventually.
Been there, done that,

but the third time's the charm,
isn't it?



Just something to think about.

I think the whimsy balances the melancholy well - but more melancholy and less whimsy suits me too -
Lisa, you have done so much here I like, from painting a vivid picture of the carnival, using lots of alliterations, and great images ("shriveled balloons" : )
I like this very much -
---todd

Once again your piece has amazed. I really enjoyed this, put that sprinkle of dark pleasure on my too-happy day.(not meant as sarcasm!) I love how you led us up to a remedy only to be drawn back to breathless. kept me on edge hehe. great images as well , I do believe the rest as already been said by all of the above, so keep up the good work

hi lisa. i like this poem, once again you make it dance with dazzling language and great images. i know that writing with short lines is part of your style, but i'm not sure it's efective in this poem. just based off of line lenght and rhythm, i don't feel a sense of breathlessness, but rather, a bit of whiplash. but thats just me maybe.

anyway, i like the drifting view, the random distractions. perhaps the last few stanzas could use a little trimming, as to not drift to far away. great writing lisa, enjoyed very much.

wood

Lisa, forgive me for not giving you a more lengthly review. I'm exhausted. All my cerebral awakenings, alseep.

I used to panic.
Liters of air, everywhere,
yet I can't suck it in.

I loved this "litters of air (brilliant), everywhere" (effective rhyme)

Thougth I believe it would be more effective if you began "I panic". The tense works with "yet I can't suck it in"

Succinct line but my favorite.

Glass did a great edit. Something I go for, being Mistress of Gloom, but I don't think it's "you". Your injection of humorous self-effacement despite the aweful odds seem to be your hallmark.

Another great poem which sates my sensibility. Laurie

The poem starts out with a strong voice, and introduction of a persona. The alliteration that begins early is effective and all instances of it fit in place nicely, with no rough spots. I really liked, "per-corpse carnival" That's what hooked me. Splendid poem that should be reread.