The Cut

[FranktheFrank]

The surgeon had been rough, he'd dropped off as he cut
into the vein. Euphoria, descended. Heard him say to relax,

count backwards. Recently, moved by memories of car journeys,
likened them to dream patterns of ever changing objects flying

into view and then suddenly departing. No logic that he could fathom
for the crowd of clowns waving manically, or a row of crashed vehicles.

A woman dressed in a full length coat running full pelt in high heels,
moneyed, her coat flying open, suspended over the burned meadow

grass of Autumn. And similar journeys from as long ago as forty years
and as poignant now as then. The sound of tyres on crunched glass.

The smell of spilt petrol, a kite wheels overhead looking for prey.
Did all those people remember him as he did them. The lights

shimmer red and amber, blink unnoticed in the rain. Nest drives
carefully so as not to jolt, the wound seeps plasma, water and blood.

[Kenneth2816]

Frank. Visceral but in a muted way. Took me til S3 to get into the poem.
Last three stanzas are the poem what precedes is necessary background.

Wondering if all emergency services remember the narrator is gripping.

Ring of truth on this one. I've been put under and know the feeling when the drugs hit. On the US, if you're given morphine, the write the letter M on your forehead in red ink. This part of the poem is a landscape where one could really use a lot of terse imagery.



ER surgeons are rough and detached

My older brother had a major car accident years back. I think everyone can find some thing in this to relate to.

Its unfair Frank, that we carry the burden of our best work into all future poems.

You've set your own standard to live up to.

This is good writing, but one would wish for some killer lines, something that sticks in the flesh.

[FranktheFrank]

I understand
I've said the same to Bernie about his work in the past
and I was wrong.
But I get your sense of disappointment
I found this last night by chance, a very old poem of mine
and I loved it, tinkered with it and posted.
The question remains, what is a good poem,
the answer is I do not know
I was very surprised at my last win and to tell the truth
not sure if there will be another one. We just have to write that's all.
Some of my work that I really like didn't even get chosen to represent.
It's all a big puzzle to me.
But I actually loved this one.
thanks.

[Kenneth2816]

I'm mystified as well Frank. I suppose the definition of good poetry is the property of the reader. Like when your kids have kids, then they can say whether or not you were ass good father and you have to live with it.

Yes, we write. I'm coming off a nine year dry spell, forgot most of what I thought I knew. I know sloop many poets who get their work chosen, one here, one there.

They're formulaic and if you put five of them side by side you could tell. I like a little range. You got that. I'm working on
how to write something other than narrative poetry. I still got a lot left in me.

[Bernie01]

Frank---

current tense---shock me, stun me, amaze, delight, bedazzle...yes/no



Recently, he had been moved by memories of car journeys
He had likened them to dream patterns of ever changing

objects flying into view and then suddenly departing. No logic
that he could fathom for the crowd of clowns waving manically,

or a row of crashed vehicles - a woman dressed in furs running
full pelt in high heels, attractive, her coat flying, posh, why.

It brought to mind similar journeys from as long ago as forty
. He wondered if all those people

remember him as he did them. The lights shimmered red and amber,
blinked unnoticed in the rain. Except, he noticed that it was warm

in the car and Nest drove carefully so as not to jolt him, the wound
seeped plasma, water and blood. The surgeon had been rough,

why had he dropped off to sleep as he cut into the vein. An euphoria,
descended. He had heard him say to relax and to count backwards.



start with the action---it forces the poet to surmount a strong opening:


euphoria as the vein was cut open.

relax and count backwards.

objects flying into view, suddenly departing. No logic.
clowns waving manically, a row of crashed vehicles -
a woman dressed in furs running
zig zag her coat flying, posh.





bernie

[FranktheFrank]

Ta Bernie,
did it,
Action first
present tense.