For All is Good

For All is Good

A Poem by Marri
"

constructive criticism always welcome

"

My inner conflicts

 

                                    are like streets that lead nowhere
                  

                but a Kubin's gibbet,
                      

                            made out of barbed wire

 and umbilical cord…. 
                           

                                             Hanged is the
         

             hundred-year-old grandma
     

        that my child carries,
                                    

                       and burnt is the white on the sheet…
                     

 

                      Hanged is the child
             

          begot on the same bed
                

              that squeaks like a bird
                                    

                  and rests on three legs
                                      

 

                  (If I could, I would
             

    break that bird's neck


   and put it to sleep)
  

  For all is good,
       

                  ten fingers,
                          

                                ten toes,
                                     

                                          the first breath,
                       

                           the first word,
         

                                          the first step
                  

                                      (but step in Fahrstuhl zum Schafott)
               

 

        What a pair,
               

                       me and the grandma
                                 

        that my child carries
             

                  I rise,
                                

                         In the same spasm
              

                  She falls
                

                     (if I were you,
   

                       I would let us rot...)
                                   

 

   The belly full of no-prospects


                   and death,
       

                                    the swinging chair
       

        and us
                        

                            swung to the same spot

        

                     nowhere

          

     What a pair,
               

                     my inner conflicts
            

                            and all that is born

          turning to dust...


 

© 2012 Marri


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Featured Review

Wow, this is very interesting. I had to read it through twice to really get the entire impact. The form sort of draws you into a sublime sort of feeling, which is juxtaposed to the concept of the piece; I found that refreshing. I like to see writers play with form and style, because that is how the "new" is born. Well done.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marri

10 Years Ago

thank you very much! Your words are appreciated and are certainly an encouragement for experimenting.. read more



Reviews

This poem drew me in from beginning to the end. Good write.

Posted 8 Years Ago


A splendid poem and form...Thank you for sharing...:)...........

Posted 10 Years Ago


Nice imaginary, i liked the structure.

Posted 10 Years Ago


Wow, this is very interesting. I had to read it through twice to really get the entire impact. The form sort of draws you into a sublime sort of feeling, which is juxtaposed to the concept of the piece; I found that refreshing. I like to see writers play with form and style, because that is how the "new" is born. Well done.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marri

10 Years Ago

thank you very much! Your words are appreciated and are certainly an encouragement for experimenting.. read more
That;s again an amazing one write by you, loved your writing style. words're nicely described here. great job once again :)

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Marri

10 Years Ago

thank you :)
Good writing. I really enjoyed it.

Posted 10 Years Ago


Raphael Minter

10 Years Ago

I can't find your review about my poem, how long is too short.
Marri

10 Years Ago

yes, I also checked but it disappeared miraculously, I will write it again when I have some more tim.. read more
Raphael Minter

10 Years Ago

ok, thanks very much
A series of disturbing images...I'm sorry to say I couldn't understand this piece...What is Kubin's gibbet? Kubin was an artist, according to Wikipedia, but I couldn't find any reference to a gibbet or gallows...
Fahrstuhl zum Schafott is the German version of Lift to the Scaffold which is the English version of a french film called "Ascenseur pour l'échafaud"...?
You work your readers HARD eh? :D

Posted 10 Years Ago


Marri

10 Years Ago

thank you for this criticism :) I am afraid I tend to digress and forget that translating the chao.. read more
welcome back

Posted 11 Years Ago


Marri

11 Years Ago

Thank you, I guess after every storm the sun rises again after all
Chris

11 Years Ago

It sometimes takes us particular effort to find our heart again...but that is part of being human.
Marri

11 Years Ago

yes, that heart, the biggest blessing...and the biggest curse...
I haven't been completely baffled in a while, so I thank you for that (I think it's a good thing). To me this piece is like a great collage which bombards the viewer with seemingly random visual stimuli and imprint a feeling more than a linear argument.

The feeling I receive is one of lingering despair.

It doesn't particularly bemoan the state, rather report it with some fragmented imagery of a grandma, a bird, barbed wire, and naturally the last line almost echoing the Biblical prophets from thousands of years ago which gives this piece a certain fatalistic ominous undertone.

Very interesting.

Posted 11 Years Ago


Marri

11 Years Ago

Thank you so much for this critique, I am currently in a writing's breakdwon and your words certainl.. read more

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18 Reviews
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Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on November 17, 2012
Last Updated on November 18, 2012

Author

Marri
Marri

Bremen, Germany



About
http://www.marrri-nikolova.tumblr.com/ 'If I knew myself, I'd run away...' I pick a word, phrase, sentence, sometimes even a whole chunk of text from what I wrote yesterday, the day be.. more..

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