The Writers Block

After Grandmother's Wake (revision 2)

Our duende fled the chess board;
the knight fell in your humidor.
Just yesterday, we were
wild ducks on the dance floor,
a slippery frozen white winter.

Tongue stuck in bashful Swedish,
sometimes I hesitate to say
I love you, jag älskar dig and let
this silly cat keep me warm.

The wind blows in the cage
disturbing the cockatoos—
we dress it with plaid wool
before we leave. A stroll, now?
It is so cold. All heads are covered
with snowflakes, bodies in layers
of clothing. Your black and blue
Dada gouache flinches on the wall.

Here, warm your hands with my pipe;
let us stay and have some wine;
I miss grandmother too.

Make love to me on the bear rug.
Paw me with its hungry claws;
fold me in your arms and hold
my thighs tight with your legs.

We'll go for a walk in the morning
after I've had my revenge—I want
to devour you in the snow garden.

---

After Grandmother's Wake (revision)

The duende is on the chess board,
the knight is in your humidor
and wild ducks are on the dance floor,
our slippery frozen white winter.

Tongue stuck in bashful Swedish,
sometimes I hesitate to say
I love you, jag älskar dig and
just let this silly cat keep me warm.
When he curls in dizzy spells
about I want, I know
he needs something to eat.

The wind blows in the cage
disturbing the cockatoos—
we dress it with plaid wool
before we leave. A stroll, now?
It is so cold. All heads are covered
with snowflakes, bodies in layers
of clothing. Your black and blue
Dada gouache flinches on the wall.

Here, warm your hands with my pipe;
let us stay and have some wine;
I miss grandmother too.

Make love to me on the bear rug.
Paw me with its hungry claws;
fold me in your arms and hold
my thighs tight with your legs.

We will take a walk in the morning
after I have had my revenge—it will be
my turn to wrap myself around your hips.

---

After Grandmother's Wake

The duende is on the chess board,
the knight inside your box of crayons
and wild ducks are on the dance floor,
our slippery frozen white winter.

Tongue stuck in bashful Swedish,
a black cat keeps me warm. He
curls in dizzy spells around I want;
he needs something to eat.

The wind blows in the cage
disturbing the cockatoos—
we dress it with plaid wool
before we leave. A stroll, now?

It is so cold. All heads are covered
with snowflakes, bodies in layers
of clothing. Your black and blue
dada gouache flinches on the wall.

Framed, your beard makes
you look like Santa. Pass me
that pipe to warm my hands;
let’s stay and have some cognac.

Make love to me on the bear rug.
Paw me with its hungry claws;
Fold me in your furry arms and
hold my thighs tight with your legs.

I miss grandmother.
We’ll take a walk in the morning
after I've had my revenge.

Hi Penumbra-

What I like about this is that it doesn't weigh the reader down with its own pity.
The opening line with the charm/ghost on the "chess board" is a good one.
I honestly don't see that this poem was under or overwritten. I enjoyed the control
you displayed which isn't easy where the subject of death and family meet.

The end line touched and startled me: Bravo

" I miss grandmother.
We’ll take a walk in the morning
after I've had my revenge."


Thank you for posting this.

Hello penumbra

Yes a rich and well-written piece. Carries this reader along throughout. Very well done. The revenge does come as a shock, and it might be a bit too much out of nowhere, with no preparation and lacks explanation as to the meaning.

I think you need more in terms of a hint to prepare the reader and a hint as to the nature of the revenge in order for the poem to be a total success that it very nearly is already.

For example, is it revenge because the speaker hated grandma all the time or because she secretly hates Santa with the beard? Is the revenge the sex on the bearskin rug because grandma was so straight-laced or does it take some other form? Since the poem's title mentions a "wake" we can imagine there were a lot of people there, though the poem itself doesn't really get into that. So the revenge could conceivably be against someone else not in the poem... the speaker's parents, perhaps. In any case, I urge you to add more to make the poem at least a tad clearer as to what we are supposed to "get" from it in terms of message.

Good luck in revising, penumbra.

Chris

P---


a web of closely cropped phrses that held my interest and managed to ultimately outsmart me.

good.


sure liked these lines:


and wild ducks are on the dance floor,
our slippery frozen white winter.


and this is awfully nice:


Tongue stuck in bashful Sweedish,


the white winter is echoed later in the poem, but what about the bashful sweedish?


why the cat?

a black cat keeps me warm. He
curls in dizzy spells around I want;
he needs something to eat.


the bird helps anchor the winter---

The wind blows in the cage
disturbing the cockatoos—
we dress it with plaid wool
before we leave. A stroll, now?

but you see what i mean, the cat is personna non gratta ---a disappeared.


It is so cold. All heads are covered
with snowflakes, bodies in layers
of clothing. Your black and blue
dada gouache flinches on the wall.


fun and original descriptions all around. the mention of "dada" identifies the speaker, intelligent, artistic, historical---feminine. gouache.

a water color in the dada tradition.



Arp, Jean (1886-1966)
Mountain, Table Anchors, Navel
Date: 1925

Movement: Dada
Theme: Abstract
Technique: Gouache
Museum: Museum of Modern Art
Location: New York, NY, USA

http://www.terminartors.com/artworkprof ... hors_Navel




this seems weak:

Framed, your beard makes
you look like Santa. Pass me
that pipe to warm my hands;
let’s stay and have some brandy.

brandy doesn't sound right, outside an english club/study. is that what you want? a feeling of stuffiness, aristocratic reserve? but the pipe---a smoked drug, i presume, not a Meerschaum.

why a drug reference? once again, tossed in, tossed out. santa, the same thing, warm hands, cold winter, it fits. wind through the bird cage---some continuity, some opportunity to allow meanings to deepen ad ripen before pulling the rug in the last s.




excellent transition, one non-traditional POV to the surprising and very odd last line of the last verse:


Make love to me on the bear rug.
Paw me with its hungry claws;
Fold me in your furry arms and
hold my thighs tight with your legs.




I miss grandmother.
We’ll take a walk in the morning
after I've had my revenge.


the poem has decided to leave the revenge undefined, i'm curious, but respectful.


can't wait for your next poem.



bernie


sinead o'conner --- troy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeIHZvZTJTg

pen:

I like the matter of fact statements with each stanza building (somewhat) on the last. Thus, each stanza is its own snapshot within a larger framework, which I think is good effective poetics. None exactly portray what one would expect after a wake (whatever that is).

I too like the "revenge" part which brings to mind the old adage "living well is the best revenge" which might be appropos here, so soon after a death. But its a fine mystery best unexplained.

I don't have any specific suggestions...

Yoly,

It looks like I must respond separately to each comment because I cannot see them from this window. I hope that is alright.

Thank you very much for your comments and thumbs up. I am glad you enjoyed it.

pen

Chris,

I am glad the ride went smoothly until the ending, which seems to leave you a bit unhappy.

The different members seem to have differing opinions on this revenge issue. In giving it some thought, I find that pinning it down would not really enhance the poem as a whole, while it would actually diminish the effect of the ending by reducing the number of possible outcomes in the reader's mind.

I am sorry to disappoint you. Thank you for your careful consideration and comments.

pen

Kenneth,

Thank you for showing me that each stanza being a complete statement is a good thing. I also feel reassured about leaving the ending unexplained.

I enjoyed your comments. Thank you.

pen

Bernie,

You have given me plenty to think about. Unfortunately, I was not able to open the art site and I am not certain I get the message from the last link to a song, except, the gal has no beard.

No reference to drugs (I just finished writing a poem about the smell of tobacco from a pipe). Cognac instead of brandy? The narrator wants warm hands. Why not a cat? They're warm, too, even though they do disappear. If the cat switches gender, would it make a difference? I will be thinking a long time.

It looks like a passing grade from you, and I am glad you like that Swedish is a bashful language. Also, the ducks, they seem to love to slide on a frozen lake, or are they thinking they will glide into last season's water?

Santa is alright, but not the beard... Hmm... And, like Chris, you would like more. Too sudden an ending? Hmm...

Lots to think about! Are pipe tobacco and alcohol drugs?

Thorough and insightful comments. Thank you.

pen

Pen---


asking to be handed a pipe for folks under 30, means a hash pipe. (i'm told.)


for the drinks---brandy or cognac? depends on the impression you want the poem to create, the age and social set of the characters.

a Heiniken?

well, you see what i mean.

is the drink important?

the cat---yes for warmth, is that stab at temperature really what interested you there?


He
curls in dizzy spells around I want;
he needs something to eat.


a little complicated for a cat, yes? is this busy work, placeholding for the poem or do you want me to know something that is projected from this observation, if so, i missed the significance.

the poem seems to offer the reader a couple, two people who gather prompted by a funeral.


is that why we have a ghost in the first line?


yes or no, the import of that knight inside your box of crayons is lost on me.

an image, but signaling what to the reader? a feeling tone? will that tone be sustained?
form a sensibility?

the couple---the partner given a first descriptive line one-third of the way into the poem:

Your black and blue
dada gouache flinches on the wall.


a man is describing the art preferences of a woman. his lover. and is this a woman?
love the modifier flinches.

original.

does it build toward something? is this detail more than an aside, it feels that way. it certainly gives me a major item on this woman's resume---Bryn Mawr, 1963 --- field hockey and art appreciation. one year, paris. laughs a little too loudly, chain smokes.


what do we know about the narrator? his dead grandmother (i'm not sure who the grandmother belongs to between this pair), his fondness for a cat, cold hands and he smokes a pipe. he also uses the word revenge without shuttering.

i found this to be one of the most compelling lines:


The wind blows in the cage
disturbing the cockatoos—


i thought of the couple, the narrator in that cage.


we dress it with plaid wool
before we leave. A stroll, now?


an emerging, but subtle theme: movement, skating, dance floor, slippery frozen white winter.


is more info needed about the cold without any apparent link to the funeral, the gandmother's house? ancient feelings. the RAF pilots who once sat in half-circle around the grandmother, a bathing beauty in her day and well beyond.

It is so cold. All heads are covered
with snowflakes, bodies in layers
of clothing.


it's one way i think about a poem, especially one that i like.

bernie

Yes but if I may so, for such a rich and nuanced piece throughout the rest of the read, the ending just simply has shock value and kind of devalues what you have beforehand. I think you do yourself and the poem a misjustice in being satisfied with the ending as is without something extra. Just my opinion.

Bernie,

A very touching demonstration of how you have thought about this poem and I thank you for such openness.

You also give me a lot more to think about, consider/reconsider, than I had before.

I will see what I can do. I could start by saying that people go home after a funeral and the funeral does not prompt two people to gather in this poem, that 'duende' means more than a ghost, that brandy/cognac is cozy and warm versus beer, and the picture in my mind slows down in comparison to a cup of coffee, you know, like those movies where people come home and have a drink and the widow gets seduced for consolation kind of thing, need for closeness, and a cat in a house is not out of place any more than birds in a cage and that it should be crayons box instead of box of crayons. A household environment...

Again, I will see what I can do. I already know how I will answer the revenge issue, but I am not at all sure that it will be best for the poem if I just add razorblades and shaving creme.

Again, thank you, and I will see what I can do. A lot needed for having started out with a 'tight' poem, lol. This experience is far more valuable to me than the making of the poem, by the way.

pen

Chris,

I find interesting how you boys really want to see a finale on this one, and you'll get one. It can always be fired for poor performance later, right? At least you feel I am close to finish with this piece, whereas Bernie is chasing a clay duck with a rifle, which is good, lol.

Thank you again.

pen

pen, I already have my ending...

narrator does the wild thing on granny's bear rug..

Yes indeed narrator is doing the wild thing on granny's bearskin rug. But to what effect? The question is, is it all to be left to the reader's imagination, or is the writer actually doing to do their job and convey something? Pen.......?????

Hi Pen-

To add, of course I'm intrigued about why the ending is what it is to the speaker. But in this instance, since it is not the crux of the poem for satisfaction's purpose, I am okay with it.
The poem rises on its own.
Not sure that an explanation or hint will make a difference to this reader.
I get why there is that interest though.

Peace,
Y

Thank you, Yoly.

Kenneth, you helped in my choice of ending--why not give the guys what they want, after all.

Chris, yes, you backed Kenneth's ending, and I wonder if it is to your satisfaction.

Bernie, your comments made a puzzle out of the poem, as it should be upon revision. I eliminated the beard, changed the box of crayons for a humidor, added a line to back up the bashful Swedish, I think I justified the cat.

Before anyone asks, the first lines may seem out of context, but what does one do upon returning home, sometimes? Make comments on silly things that were in our minds earlier, perhaps? Familiar settings setting off comments that may seem incongruent but are not. I hope it comes through this way, although I noticed the preoccupation about the duende.

I have no idea why at least two of you decided the rug belonged to grandma! Do you realize just how fascinating this is? How each will read into a poem what he may? I certainly did not write that, and I do not find where it is implied, either.

Wonderful comments! Thank you all very much. Now, I wait to see how it is received.

pen

10-4

well, i think the ending is more complete now.

a shade ambiguous, dramatic and memorable.

you mentioned coming home....


i think of virginia woolf (the play) and george coming home---first words of the play---


What a dump!


she asks george, who said that? it is a line of betty davis she tells him.




the swedish line is now embedded.


Tongue stuck in bashful Swedish,
sometimes I hesitate to say
I love you, jag älskar dig and
just let this silly cat keep me warm.


but i would stop there, infomation overload to go on about a cat that has no more function in the pom.


odd phrasing and just isn't needed by the poem.

When he curls in dizzy spells
about I want, I know
he needs something to eat.


and this still seems awkward---

The duende is on the chess board,
the knight is in your humidor
and wild ducks are on the dance floor,
our slippery frozen white winter.


like another poem.



why not just the clear atmospheric,


we return home
from the silppery white winter.


the revision makes a good poem even better. do you agree?


bernie

Hi Pen

Yes I feel that you have tweaked the poem to an extent that has helped to elucidate the meaning of the ending sufficiently. Nice work in the revision, Pen.

Chris

Ken, thank you for the ten four.

Chris, I am glad you are satisfied.

Yoly, I have not thanked you enough nor mentioned that I felt you were my ally.

Bernie, you challenge me some more, and I do love a challenge--well, sometimes......

Yes, a poem should get better, but does it not get murkier at times, too? Or, rather, does it not lose wonderful lines, as I see about to happen with duende and the colorful crayon box already gone.......

"A shade ambiguous" for the ending is a wish not spelled out from the commentator. But what follows is a clear example I may be able to apply in the next revision. Thanks!

I agree with where the stanza should end with the poor cat, too. He need not become a star in this click. What the narrator meant to convey, which will be gone, is the inability to read the partner's mind and, in contrast, knowing the cat well--too convoluted to include this without expanding and deviating.

I will think of how not to lose the ducks sliding on the frozen lake, and I think there was a remote wish on the part of the writer, not the narrator (lol) to link the wild ducks to the bear rug.

the revision makes a good poem even better. do you agree?

Thank you for the compliment on the poem. Yes, revision is good practice, like therapy after an injury, painful and it pays off.

Thank you all very much. I will be back to revise.

pen

A tweak to the first stanza, and I shaved the cat stanza as Bernie suggested.

Did I save the duende?

Thank you.

pen