Bad Motel

Sulking,

Like a wronged child -

I sit in a pool of red.

I had not before heard the words

Being spoken on the wireless -

An afternoon play to see out these final

Minutes, interminable to the end.

The metronome voices

And guillotine script would quicker kill

Those weaker than me.

 

The room I am in is dipped in orange.

A picture of a red toad in a red waistcoat

Hangs somewhat apt I think, over the bed.

The bed is plaid blanketed,

The type under which I have seen elderly legs nestling.

 

My body is chocked with ice cubes -

And as the trickles tickle and ease the

Smart of my last untimely scourge,

Those neat binary openings -

This most beautiful of suicides.

I clock that I cannot hear out of my left ear.

Dry earth, I think it is - in there,

Or perhaps burst vessels like those seen after retching (on a vodka rampage)

Not the slow collapse of senses I always

Took for granted.

 

My eyes feel like boiled sweets

That are being sucked so hard

The mouth, whatever mouth, is raw.

 

The curtains in here are blue

With dirty white roses

Interweaved - looks like matted hair.

The carpet, um, this carpet

Needs scrubbing,

Yellow, pink, and purple swirls on a

Thin, stained, stone slab.

I recall when I was young

Dropping a bottle of milk onto our

Hallway rug.

It was green,

And as the milk soaked in

I thought it must have been sour -

The milk I mean, the color it was

A greenish cream gloop.

 

Lying here in this motel

I know the truth of it. That everything is sour -

And I am more than halfway to my mother.

Reviews

[...]

The detail, Rosalind, is as intensely phenomenal and vividly graphic as it's beautifully talented author!

[Rosalind Gale]

Thanks so much Lynn -
-xx-

[Leslie Philibert]

Fine poem with lots of vivid imagery, what I especially like is the last three lines, which retrospectively gives a poem a situation or a frame, I think that`s very cleverly done, helps the reader to visualise the text, and provides a kind of ongoing story.
A good write, well done.

[Baby Ricochet]

Yeah that really does sound like a crappy hotel. Some powerful poisoned imagery in this. great job

[Corset]

One day we all wake to find that we have actually become our mothers, for some that is an honor, for some a heartbreak. The intensity of your writes leave me looking about for a pillow to soften the blow, I just sit here and read it over and over again, it seeps into me like a narcotic, sometimes slow and mean, sometimes fast and furious but never is it a whisper, it grabs me by the scruff of the neck and says Look at me, "LOOK AT ME DAMN IT", I'm real.

[Dr. Wood ?]

well...bleaker still, You are a genius with words..but too many carpets, I feel....At the risk of having your fans lambaste me

[Mockingbird]

great detail, some pretty lurid evokes sadness as well. great poem.

[Rosalind Gale]

Thank you M - I will be around your way very soon to read you, I have been out of touch lately.
read moreThank you M - I will be around your way very soon to read you, I have been out of touch lately.
Take care -and I hope you are doing good -
Rosa
-x-

[eglantine]

Now that, is poetry

[Coyote Poetry]

I love the way you describe each detail in your poem. Making the emotion come alive and strong. You create a vision of a lonely place and little desire to celebrate life. No weakness in this outstanding poem.
Coyote