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.

8 comments:

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.

--Anna
Diary of an Eccentric