Deathbed

grooveamaticgrooveamatic Posts: 1,374
edited January 2005 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
Eggs frying in the skillet,
Odorous and plump
Slide through the door
To my nose.

Soon they will be brought
With juice and pills
And perhaps, today,
The remote control.

There will be new blankets,
Of course, and socks.
Yes, today socks.
But not underwear:
Instead, a bowl.

They may pull the blinds,
To much dismay,
But they may pull the blinds.
And she probably won't come by
Today. She works strange hours lately.

And I am awake so rarely now.
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Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • I can hear echoes of Larkin. I like the use of capitalisation in this piece. For some reason, I notice tat a lot of self-proclaimed authorities on poetry get snobby about capitalisation in poems, saying it's some kind of sign of creative underdevelopment. I've always thought that particular theory was all my bum, because if Yeats used it it must be okay. ;) You use it and you show why it can enhance a good poem.

    Quality stuff again, Groovster. You're on a real creative roll. Don't let anyone stop ya!!! :)
  • grooveamaticgrooveamatic Posts: 1,374
    I can hear echoes of Larkin. I like the use of capitalisation in this piece. For some reason, I notice tat a lot of self-proclaimed authorities on poetry get snobby about capitalisation in poems, saying it's some kind of sign of creative underdevelopment. I've always thought that particular theory was all my bum, because if Yeats used it it must be okay. ;) You use it and you show why it can enhance a good poem.

    Quality stuff again, Groovster. You're on a real creative roll. Don't let anyone stop ya!!! :)

    You got it, Finns...I do pull alot from Larkin, unashamedly. That man was amazing.

    Thanks for the kind words...I shall continue!
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  • dyna2dyna2 Posts: 14
    I'll admit that the image of juicy and plump eggs sliding through the door grossed me out somewhat. But sensibilities be damned, while the scene is set up fairly well, this poem is absolutely made by the locktight ending.

    i like.
    "Who was that guy?"
    "Jesus Christ."
    "Seriously, man, don't be an asshole, who was he really?"
    "Jesus Christ."
    "No shit? What'd he want?"
    "My apple pie and a cigarette."
  • dyna2dyna2 Posts: 14
    LOL pardon me. ODOROUS and plump.

    that just makes it worse. LOL
    "Who was that guy?"
    "Jesus Christ."
    "Seriously, man, don't be an asshole, who was he really?"
    "Jesus Christ."
    "No shit? What'd he want?"
    "My apple pie and a cigarette."
  • dyna2 wrote:
    I'll admit that the image of juicy and plump eggs sliding through the door grossed me out somewhat.

    That's one of my favourite bits. There's no poetry like a feckin' good fry up. :cool:
  • grooveamaticgrooveamatic Posts: 1,374
    Is it clear enough that I mean the smell of the eggs, and not the eggs themselves?
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  • even flow?even flow? Posts: 8,066
    Puts a vision of almost every health care home I have ever been in into my head. Thumbs up!
    You've changed your place in this world!
  • Yes. It's an indexical image of eggs using a different image than sight: smell. It's fine.
  • grooveamaticgrooveamatic Posts: 1,374
    even flow? wrote:
    Puts a vision of almost every health care home I have ever been in into my head. Thumbs up!

    I thank you kindly!
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  • grooveamaticgrooveamatic Posts: 1,374
    Yes. It's an indexical image of eggs using a different image than sight: smell. It's fine.

    I thank you kindly!
    .........................................................................
  • just when I think you can't top the last one...
  • grooveamaticgrooveamatic Posts: 1,374
    just when I think you can't top the last one...

    don't put too much pressure on me now...
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  • just when I think you can't top the last one...

    I'm starting to see it Shiftless' way. :)

    very nice.
    i can still bite my toenails.
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