Reticence II

I wrote another poem about reticence when I was 17.

For the first time

I fully understood people

who smash telephone boxes;

the impotent rage

that ejaculates at the wrong time,

in all the wrong places.

If I’d seen a cat

I would have kicked it.

 

Well, probably not.

But I would have wanted to.

 

You see how quickly that changed?

It’s like there’s some circuit breaker

in my personality

that throws up consequences

into my synapses,

where they sizzle for a second

and everything shorts out.

 

I’ve never torn up a photograph.

I’ve never thrown my phone at a wall.

I’ve never gone to an isolated field

and yelled myself hoarse.

I have gone to the field,

several times,

and nothing but a croak came out.

 

The other day

I sublimated my anger towards you

- parked outside our house in his car –

with a kettle of boiling water

and the spider frequenting our bathroom.

I’ll be ashamed of that for a long time.

 

The other day

I sat on a bench in a sleep-silent street

and smashed my bottle

of 1664 against the pavement,

then drove the remaining shards into my radial.

The edges were pathetically blunt;

I guess I was relieved.

 

The other day

I reflected on love and fear;

how relaxing into our relationship

had been akin to cautiously

lowering my body into a bath tub.

Had I high-dived off the sink,

I don’t think it would have

made a difference.

 

Except maybe

a few extra months

of that carefree happiness.

 

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think of this, as a poem? Thanks.

Reviews

[PianoandPage]

as a poem it's as brilliant as anything else you've written.

you convey subtle emotional states so well it's scary. the conflicting waves of rage and restraint.

"The other day

I sat on a bench in a sleep-silent street
and smashed my bottle
of 1664 against the pavement,
then drove the remaining shards into my radial.
The edges were pathetically blunt;
I guess I was relieved." - favorite stanza.

[October]

I think I understand where you're coming from.
I never react in a throwing-telephone-against-the-wall kind of way.
I just swallow it, but I'm still hurt and angry.

Well, anyway, I enjoyed this.
It was very well written.

[Nicholas Hallows]

As a poem - great! So dense; full of emotion and description.
I seriously feel overwhelmed by the pictures this creates.
I can also totally relate... although I have managed to destroy a couple of phones and break a foot kicking a wall... fun times :)
Your language is spot on too; very appropriate.
To me there was something of an anti-climax in the final two stanzas... but perhaps that is inevitable and intentional as the circuit breakers kick in and anger turns to reflection on 'what ifs'.
All in all I loved this piece.

[F. Nazarov]

So I read this about 2 days ago and just let it sit in the back of my mind
so I had some time to think about it.

Had I high-dived off the sink,
I don't think it would have
made a difference.

Except maybe
a few extra months
of that carefree happiness.

Don't we all wish that we could have maybe pushed a little further....
Well, to answer your question it's fine as a poem really. What do you think about it?
You know I don't like to give direct input without knowing how the person feels about it first.
BUT I think it's great, in every sense =].

[zig]

i've read this one several times now, not sure why its haunting me so... but well done, you haunted me. perhaps you need to seek some kind of publication for this one... just i feeling i get from it, it needs to be in print. take care my friend. zig

[Emily B]

C.
I began reading and it all seemed so familiar. And then I got to the end and I'm confused. It's wonderful work. Absolutely top shelf stuff. Full of life.

For what it's worth. I tuck all my rage and sadness down inside until it festers and causes hurt only to me. Wonderful, wonderful write.

[robin]

I like it it carries well and each of the parts is personal...since you didn't go for resolution really, perhaps it would be better to draw more contrast. The end hints of a loss, but it's too lovey, how about broken or shattered and left for dead...might bring out the despair in your dichotomy better. Sublimated drops out of the figurative too much and most won't get it, it's like you're explaining yourself to us...let us get you our own way, take the chance we've been there too, my friend,
Robin

[Tamme]

I like how this builds on itself. It makes a great poem with interesting analogies. Short circuits in personalities had me thinking for a bit as I can relate to it.

It's good writing.

[mick weller]

`I have gone to the field,
several times,
and nothing but a croak came out.` this is really touching...

I guess I was relieved. - (not the only one!)
though you have taste! ...at least you would have departed with a bit of quality lager coarsing through you... ;-)

`I don't think it would have
made a difference.` - I don't know - I think you certainly would have hurt yourself there!

but I'm not really offering any `critique` here... and it would be unfair - you're hurting and we feel that hurt - `poetically` or otherwise - we feel that hurt because you aren't ranting and shouting - this piece is not angry - it is calculated... hurt with intelligence if you like, and because of this it conveys its meaning more securely and with an edge of reason...

...but that's probably bollocks... it usually is when I start thinking...

you certainly put a lot of work into your expression fo`sure!

`sleep-silent street` - this made me do a double-take... but the 1664 really did put a smile on my face...
being specific that is... just so glad they use s**t glass for their botlles!

`If I'd seen a cat
I would have kicked it.

Well, probably not.` - phew glad you did a quick turn-around there...

[bunny nabber]

the field part, the spider death and the jumping into ceramic water fixtures all work and cause hurt to echo in my guts too. So this works, cos i feel you.