"The words rape..." He says,
His voice cold and austere
like the skimping shadows
and her shallow breath,
The skirting darkness
and stark luminosity whisper,
Secrets beyond the enclosing metal hell,
"Has such negative connotations-,
that such a word..."
Four letters. She thinks.
Rape. Hate. Hell. Dark. Fear.
"...can hold so much weight"
His hands moves,
Creating shadow puppets on the wall,
Horned devils that dance, smiling,
Amongst the bleeding shadows,
Hands moving, worn and calloused,
Like white curling talons,
clutching at her breath,
"Only four letters"
Rape. Hand. Fear. Dark.
The chink of chains
To the flinch of her body,
It echoes
like the scream in a cavern,
Empty and helpless,
"Four letters"
He repeats
Repeats
Repeats
Four letters
Done.
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"Snip! Snap! Snip! the scissors go;
And Conrad cries out - Oh! Oh! Oh!
Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast;
That both his thumbs are off at last.
Mamma comes home; there Conrad stands,
And looks quite sad, and shows his hands;-
"Ah!" said Mamma "I knew he'd come
To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb." - The Story of Suck-a-Thumb, Heinrich Hoffman
A sinnister and vividly menacing. Loved the motif ofthe four letter/actions and conjured thoughts and this horrible scene. On alighter note,I have visons of u knocking this out just before cooking ur brekky.
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If I'm not mistaken, this is your second poem ending with the word done. Honestly, I am left with only scattered images that don't seem to coalesce and take shape. It feels as if you're capitalizing on the word rape, taking unfair advantage of its known impact on a readers moral compass, forcing it to carry the weight of the poem. Try removing this word only from the text and reading the verses again. You'll find that the impression you are left with is somewhat different. You have to admit, it is a loaded word, and it overpowers everything else, burning itself into the reader's mind at the expense of all else.
Otherwise, a strikingly inventive piece of work, which is what I have come to expect from you these days. I love how your mind works.
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"One of my primary objects is to form the tools so the tools themselves shall fashion the work and give to every part its just proportion."
I'm starting to feel like a real moron here. If you take out the words that are the core of the poem of course it would be different. Right? Oh well, guess I'll keep on going until I get it.
I like that this was about rape. But thats probably because lately anything that has to do with the dark, creepy, and the dead has corrupted my mind. And I'm obsessed with rape. Not with rape, like doing it, but with putting a stop to it. I liked this poem. Thats saying a lot since I think poetry sucks.
I like that this was about rape. But thats probably because lately anything that has to do with the dark, creepy, and the dead has corrupted my mind. And I'm obsessed with rape. Not with rape, like doing it, but with putting a stop to it. I liked this poem. Thats saying a lot since I think poetry sucks.
You are aye? Well that makes two of us.
Y'know what I hate this poem. Well not hate, the beginning of hate. I have a sudden urge to rid this site of every poem that I dislike of mine. Purge my poetic output You're right Buttercup, it does have a different meaning, Junior just likes point out the obvious. Nah, but you're right Junior, that was the point, I was writing about the weight of such a word and all eh imagery and the burden of the word. That as my intention.
But I appreciate your words mate. You're right. It doesn't really shape into anything into particular. Quite empty and pointless. Thanks Lu, not over brekkie. Just when I was about to go to sleep got an idea. Had to get out of my warm bed to get a bloody pen. Damn Winter.
Thanks all.
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"Snip! Snap! Snip! the scissors go;
And Conrad cries out - Oh! Oh! Oh!
Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast;
That both his thumbs are off at last.
Mamma comes home; there Conrad stands,
And looks quite sad, and shows his hands;-
"Ah!" said Mamma "I knew he'd come
To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb." - The Story of Suck-a-Thumb, Heinrich Hoffman
I complete missed the whole of the poem. All I viewed was a mental image of a man in a prison cell repeating four particular words. I will say on a most positive note, this poem is outstanding.
I hate you for writing this. I LOVE it, but I hate you for making me read it. I'm sick to my stomach...which means it was excellent.
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I won't rent you my time, I won't sell you my brain, I won't pray to a male god, that would be insane. And I can't support the troops, cuz every last one of them is being duped, and I will not rest a wink until the women have regrouped.
I hate you for writing this. I LOVE it, but I hate you for making me read it. I'm sick to my stomach...which means it was excellent.
Hate me? Like you ever could Venus...lol. Well good, if I can't make at least someone's brekky sit uneasily in the pit of their stomach, then I'm not doing my job.
Thanks mate
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"Snip! Snap! Snip! the scissors go;
And Conrad cries out - Oh! Oh! Oh!
Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast;
That both his thumbs are off at last.
Mamma comes home; there Conrad stands,
And looks quite sad, and shows his hands;-
"Ah!" said Mamma "I knew he'd come
To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb." - The Story of Suck-a-Thumb, Heinrich Hoffman
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I won't rent you my time, I won't sell you my brain, I won't pray to a male god, that would be insane. And I can't support the troops, cuz every last one of them is being duped, and I will not rest a wink until the women have regrouped.
Re: Four Letters
Linear Mode
