Sunday, 4 April 2010

Poem for the Poetry Bus with Swiss

Not happy poem for the Poetry Bus, driven this week by Swiss. See here for more links.

Slow Poison

Removed for more work!

14 comments:

Shaista (Lupus in Flight) said...

Such an intriguing poem - although I am not sure I understand the subtle changes in allegiance and personality... but re and reading your poem is fun!

swiss said...

it's all dark magic this. last line's a killer

Rachel Fox said...

Interesting how many people have gone for that image this time!

Some great details...the wardrobe, the cat...and a perfect ending.
Very good.

Titus said...

Fabulous. Unexpected story conjured by the prompt, love the distance maintained which is still harsh with emotion for the reader, especially in the two final stanzas. I liked the solidity of the world so resonsant and tragic.

Emerging Writer said...

Thanks everyone. I'm still honing it.

P Nolan said...

Very nice (if somewhat unsettling).

Niamh B said...

This is a really interesting one, like the last line alot

Jeanne Iris said...

so poignant! It reminds me of a Van Gogh painting for some reason.

Poetikat said...

This is really something! One anticipates worse and worse. For me, it can't get any worse than when the ginger cat disappears, since I have one of my own.
The last three lines are powerful, but the piece as a whole is so different that it remains in mind.

Emerging Writer said...

Thanks again. It's about the Hongerwinter 1944 in Holland, some stories I heard

Peter Goulding said...

The dogs running in packs is a very sinister image. The whole poem is very powerful.

Argent said...

This is dark, dark, chocolate of a poem. There's real strength in it and it is unsettling (not least becuase of the cats). That last line really nails it for me.

Pure Fiction said...

Brilliant last line. And it's great to have that context of the winner of 1944 in Holland.
Really liked this a lot.

Totalfeckineejit said...

'gouged out the little yellow hearts'
fantastic line, tragic poem, brilliantly written.

'grew fragile as twigs' has something desolately heartbreaking about it.