dannyboy

How Hue got its river

The streets of Hue wander into lanes, become
rutted paths through rice fields where water buffalo
strut; the last ball-heavy men on earth.

The streets of Hue
squeeze themselves into shadows, savour
crinkled dreams of last year’s cement
poured upon the previous year’s cracks and ravines.

A Westerner pauses on the bridge that connects
the citadel to the old colonial hotel where French relics
whore themselves to the latest newcomers.

She watches a fisherman thrust and row
in spreading ripples softer
than her husband’s weary lips,

watches the waves move outwards, leave the water
and merge into the flesh of her face and hands, hands
that have held more than their fair share of fishermen.

Back before the Cham Empire collapsed
under the love of an old emperor
for the shy Viet princess who, for entry,
demanded a river the bridge now spans
and the Americans looked at longingly
from their cold, cannoned, hillside fort.

As the wind plucks out rain
with a deft wave of its magician’s hand
the woman feels a coldness between her thighs
and returns to the hotel, drowns herself
in her new lover’s practised lies.

SteMcGrath

Wow. That's more like it Danny. Some really beautiful lines. 'the last ball-heavy men on earth'- brilliant. The last four stanzas has it build a kind of momentum that works very well. Great pathos.

Brilliant.

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"He was over at our house struggling with a poem he could not finish, so I took him upstairs and gave him sex. He came down and finished that verse in twenty-five minutes."

dannyboy

thank you SM

Baron

I think that I've commented on this one on another forum, dannyboy. I can only repeat what I said there, that I think that this is the best of the Vietnam pieces that I've read so far. Kudos.

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MisterJack

I Too, have commented on this piece elsewhere.
A truely enjoyable read db.

Jack

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If it claims to be God, eat it.

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Baron

"bump"

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MisterJack

I particularly liked this........

The streets of Hue
squeeze themselves into shadows, savour
crinkled dreams of last year’s cement
poured upon the previous year’s cracks and ravines.



really vivid.

Jack

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If it claims to be God, eat it.

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dannyboy

ta Jack (and for the support Baron)

Baron

I never like seeing good poems disappear to page two on this forum with little comment.

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Baron

With the problems on the forum and several people posting batches while it's been out I think that this has missed out on getting the views it deserves.

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apple

The poem is rich, and full of earth and loss. I love the line " the wind plucks out rain" the rest of the sentence feels less powerful to me, I think the words "magician" and "deft" spark up the mood more than enhance the shallow, emptiness. This last verse is extremely strong (except for) and truly envelops the sensation of the poem. i was moved by by this piece.

FollowingShadow

dannyboy-

Beautiful imagery and ideas here. My favorite stanza might be the first; the last stanza, however, I would say is the most compelling.

The word 'Westerner' had me stuck for a moment. I'd suggest 'Western woman' for purposes of clarity, if not flow. Artist's choice.

I seem to be less familiar with this poem's background as others. Are you currently in Vietnam? (Also, how do you pronounce 'Hue'?)

Industrial

Exceptional work.

This is dank.

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alsfa'sdgsasdasdasdasfgafasdas

dannyboy

thank you all

FS Westerner is deliberate - I hope most readers conjure a man and are startled (in a small way) to find it is a woman. That small startle (I hope) makes them focus in more. Sometimes to break the flow strengthens it.

Hue is indeed in Viet Nam (I have just returned and this is the 3rd of 4 poems I've posted about Viet Nam)

Hue is pronounced (to the best of my limited ability and crappy ear - my son has an ear for language, like his mother, mine clunks) like whey.

FollowingShadow

True, about breaking flow. In that case, the line was very effective.

Thanks for the clarification. I think I'll go about looking up these other poems sometime soon. Great stuff.