The Writers Block

Listen: I had to make it stop.
An outsider, inside a small New England town,
I opened up an extra chamber in my heart
and tried on a football boy.
A day or two of kissing under pom-poms.
And four jealous girls cocked their loaded guns
on me like Columbine. Their spit-laced
epithets: “Irish Whore”, “Slut” noosed me
tighter and tighter for months: in the halls,
the school library, the street.
A wound split open as large as my body:
Necrotic, full of stink.
I had already died.*
Listen: I made the anger my own.


*Phoebe Prince, 15, a transfer student from a small town in Ireland, hanged herself after months of unrelenting bullying from classmates at her South Hadley, Massachusetts high school, January 14, 2010. After her death, one classmate wrote “Accomplished” on Phoebe’s Facebook page.

Who had thrown the first stone
Who had defecated on that
wall of jeaously of faceless
facebook.

Who had the hatred in their soul
so strong it killed over a touseled
headed boy, a football hero
of modern America

Why do we cry
why do we care that one
more adulteress is called out
to be stoned by the angry mass

Invisible, ugly mob

Your poem illicited this reposte from me, I felt your poem lacked anger. I mean it is sad but it is passive sad. Maybe that was your intention but here is something ugly happening in modern day America something that replels and something that is not considered part of American culture, but it is in reality. It reminds us of Macarthyism in the 30's and reminds us of Nazi-ism in prewar and war torn Europe. It reminds us of the stalugs of hatred in Russia and of the worse side of racialism in America, the land of the free. Only the blacks were never free.

I think you have to let your anger out in a poem like this, not just tell it, there has to be a verdict from the poet surely? But full marks for bringing the report to the light of day in your poem.

regards

Ieuan

Thanks for commenting. Interesting that this was my response after a writing prompt for an anger poem. I think at this point my speaker is exhausted from anger - resigned. But I need to get that made clear in the poem. More work is needed.
Again, thank you.

Jennifer

Jennifer:

I think you did a fine job. The thing with "assigned" poems on events of some notoriety is to ask; "Would the poem carry itself without the reader knowing precisely of the event?'

I'd answer yes. The use of short lines and strong images more than conveys the callousness of the situation in my opinion. I wouldn't change ahything.

Jennifer,

How to convey anger with greater intensity and preserve some of the beautiful lines you've written? Here's my shot at it, which you should weigh with ample discrimination, as most of what I write is way too cryptic.

The impulse to express anger as violence is hard to resist because violence (temporarily at least) simplefies matters and creates a sense of power. Suicide by hanging is a damn violent act, not only toward oneself, but toward those enemies who are now with great finality robbed of the chance to retaliate. That's where the speaker is coming from in this approach to your poem:

An outsider in a small New England town,
I opened an extra chamber in my heart
and tried on a football boy.

and they cocked loaded guns
shot spit-laced epithets: “Irish Whore”, “Slut”
I was noosed for months
in the halls, the library, the street.

Listen: I made it stop.

Full of stink,
already dead when the wound
that was all of me finally
hung split open.

Listen: I made their anger my own.

You certainly struck a chord Jenifer

Jennifer,

A thoughtful, very well written poem with a consistent beat. Strong message, effective, and it brings this reader to the corridors and lockers, the pom-poms, the sneaked kisses of the past. The tragedy, something that seems to spread like a plague--the big bullies need to all go to the same school, so, yes, reading, refreshing what happens does infuriate.

My only suggestion that may be a question of personal taste is to eliminate "Listen," both mentions. I do not think it really helps the poem and the call for attention is included in the already strong and clear message.

I am impressed.

Thanks. I am troubled with both "listens" as well, but I didn't want to just tell the story, I wanted the speaker to somehow compel the reader to take some action - even if it is just to literally listen. I'll play with it some more without the "listens" and thanks for commenting.

Jennifer

Hi Jennifer-

I agree with Penumbra that this is thoughful. I like how Rich played with it.
The poem reaches the heart and fills it with both horror and sympathy.
Hope you don't mind that I played with it too.


An outsider in a small New England town,
I opened an extra heart chamber
and tried on a football boy

with kisses under pom-poms
as I gripped numbers on his jersery.
Four green girls cocked loaded guns
on me like Columbine. Spit-laced
epithets: “Irish Whore”, “Slut”

For months I was noosed in halls,
the school library and street.

The stink of my crime
fell into the well of my wound:
Already dead, I died.

Listen: I had to make it stop
and made anger my own.

JP---


the poem must not depend on the reader knowing the facts.

one thing that means, Phoebe Prince, 15 must come alive for the reader.

probably best in her own recreated words---

think holden caufield---not columbine.


I'm Phoebe Prince
and i guess you know
what they say about me.

i kissed a boy,
some girls almost
my friends got mad.

Do i stink?

Do kids not want to sit
close to me in study hall?

is it true, everyone knows
when i'm having a period?

Mothers warn their boys
about me?

How can i ever explain
or make things right?

Never, never.

I would like to drown,
to never come up.

The Americans
loved me once,
the accent and red hair.

A boy grabbed me
on the football green,
now I'm shit
and it will never stop.

Did i say
I'm Phoebe Prince?


the poem artfully assembles facts, but this time i wanted to be even closer to the subject.


for more than 40 years, suicide has been the third greatest cause of death among teenagers 15-19.


this poem raises awareness, as we are fond of saying---too late, too late for one of our most fragile and beautiful society members. how proud i would have been to be her friend, all our little circle would have shared homework and rides home, overlooked acne, planned for school year end dances, thought about college and all that went with it.

flush the shits, Phoebe power for us.


bernie

Thank you, Yoly, so much for your comments.
Bernie, wow - you're onto something.
I appreciate it tremendously.

Jennifer

Thanks to all who commented! Still working this one.

Jennifer,

I like bernie's approach to this one in the persona & voice of Phoebe Prince.

As for the Columbine reference, I have liked it - found it effective - from the start.

And of course from the start, by way of the title, I recall Christ's word re throwing the 1st stone.

After the Throw, the Stone or After the Stone, the Throw

Best Regards,

Michael (MV)