Nov 21, 2009

22nd Virtual Poetry Circle

Wow, 22 Virtual Poetry Circles!  I'm amazed that this project has been successful.  I really had no hope for it at all.  I thought each week would have zero comments.  Surprised me!

So, if we all continue to do well, I'll host a giveaway on the 25th Virtual Poetry Circle, which will fall on December 12, for all of you who've commented on these weekly events.  I'll pop your names in a hat and choose a winner.  Easy right?!

OK, Here's a poem up for reactions, interaction, and--dare I say it--analysis:

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock's books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don't like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Contemporary Poet John Amen is also a musician and editor of The Pedestal MagazineThis poem is from his most recent collection At the Threshold of Alchemy:

At The Funeral (Page 17)

The floorboards exhaled,
walls slept for the first time in years.

Grandma slouched in the foyer, 
her belly mounding in her lap, makeup streaked.
I distracted myself in the basement, thinking
of Ms Gilham, my face in her cleavage.

Upstairs, aunts and neighbors -- the mercenaries
of resilience -- cooked, cleaned, scrubbed
until the house could have passed for a delivery room.

I reemerged, 
dad and his brother gnawing the gristly silence.
No one noticed the stain on my corduroys
or saw me put a silver spoon in my pocket.

Let me know your thoughts, ideas, feelings, impressions. Let's have a great discussion...pick a line, pick an image, pick a sentence.

I've you missed the other Virtual Poetry Circles, check them out here. It's never too late to join the discussion.


ccqdesigns said...

The first two lines suggest to me that the dead person was a tyrant and the house is finally at ease.

Toni said...

wow.. I love this. I am the worst at getting true meaning out of works like this but I really like it. The first two lines are mesmerizing and really draw me in. Thanks for sharing. It seemed to me a familiar way of things at funerals. I am not sure why.

Cara Powers said...

I'm not sure what to think. I agree with ccqdesigns about the first two lines, but people do seem to be in mourning. I do believe that our narrator has been masturbating in the basement. Is the object of his fantasy the dead person? Why did he take a silver spoon? Is it a memento of the woman he couldn't have? What relationship did he have with the person that died. I'm afraid I don't have the answers to these questions. Perhaps some discussion will enlighten me.

ccqdesigns said...

I totally don't get the silver spoon either, and until you said what he was doing in the basement, I hadn't figured that out either, but now it is so OBVIOUS.

Jeanne said...

I like the line "the mercenaries of resilience" because it seems to me that this is, writ small, what always happens after a funeral. There's a sense of relief whether the person was a tyrant or greatly beloved. Everyone has to get on with the things they usually do.

Jenners said...

I have to say ... this wasn't what I expected when I saw the title but it was intriguing and had some vivid phrases (I like the ones about the house) and then I was surprised by some of the other lines (stealing the spoon, the cleavage). Thought provoking.

Serena said...

The images and statements in this poem leave me wanting more. I want to know the deep secrets of this family.

Anna said...

No single line popped out at me, but I loved this poem because I could picture the scene in my mind. His use of imagery is brilliant.

Diary of an Eccentric