dannyboy

The concrete wall and my head
made fast friends -
the wall gave me a three-inch scar
in memory;
my head gave the wall
my memories.

Language came back first
and faces
and finally names;
the better part of seven years remain lost
in that wall

I read voraciously
with eyes and scissors
scanning, hunting, snipping odd bits
like the boy who played hide and seek in a freezer
and froze,
the old woman who had seventy-five hairs on her chin
the same as her age
and swears the year before
she only had seventy-four,
the toast sold over ebay
with the face of Our Lady.

I snip them out
and paste them with my blue glue stick
into a large scrapbook – that has a photo of me
sitting on my brand new, sky blue, bike
red helmet on my head
but with the straps undone -
to replace what I lost
that day I rode my bike
down the concrete tunnel
and forgot to duck.

ms. vodka

suh-weet.

one thing i like about your poetry, dannyboy, is that it very often tells a story... and the story is usually interesting...

sorry you bashed your head into the concrete tunnel...

was that you? or someone you know?

anyway, nicely done..........again.

vodka

dannyboy

ta ms v. It was a well known playwright (I mentioned in another poem of my 'afternoon with visions') called Louis Nowra who apparently lost memory and language with the accident. He then regained language and spent a long time collecting weird snippets which he released in a book.

This I learnt about 30 years ago while readying myself to act in one of his plays (and to meet and interview the man). For some reason at the moment the memories of him/his plays/and stuff around that time seem to be riding roughshod(?) in my head.

The play I performed in 'visions' was all about a girl who lost language yet had 'visions' only her brother could interpret.

ms. vodka

very interesting...

i will have to check that out...

thanks,
vodka

103_smalls

More even than the story, I loved the style in which you told it... good job dannyboy!

__________________
GOD HELP ME!

IT'S THE SOUND THAT MAKES ME PUNCH INFANTS! (but not ms. vodka's)

Achilles

That was wonderful. Made my head hurt a bit, but I'll get over it.

Nice new language, very fresh word choice.

Somehow your avatar seemed to fit in as a nice illustration.

__________________
The Palace Flophouse

When Newton closed his eyes beneath a tree
and took the apple from the serpent, he
conceived the urge of humanity, plea, plea,
procreant desire and tendency.

dannyboy

thank you all and A yes it's how I (thump!) write.