IN THE EVENINGS..

a poem...

IN THE EVENINGS…

 

I would have made a world

Where my hut will have

Only one room…

Made of books instead of bricks

 

Spirits of Eliot and Emma

Will visit me every night

Charles Dickens will..

Share my bed..

 

Dostoevsky will teach me

How to distill poems and stories

By mating with a consciousness

That is collective and unique..

 

Sigmund Freud will train me

To eavesdrop into the secret

Behind the great minds’ greatness

To unravel their mystery..

 

With Wanton Chekhov

I shall go for a morning stroll

Into the wilderness..

To weave new stories..

For the rest of the day…

 

Evenings…

I spend with the inmates

Of this Writer’s café…

My only friends..

My only living friends…!!!

 

I toddle with my quill

My tender fingers, fledglings..

Always struggling…

To hold it steadily..

 

My fingers..

Have not yet mastered..

The art of wielding it…

To articulate my inner world

 

Yet, I keep on tottering…

With a mind, boozy…

From the goblet of optimism…

And my quill join in the orgy..

 

Friends…help me….

Help me to remain intoxicated..!!!!

Forever…!!!

Reviews

[SoLongAndThanksForAllTh..]

This poem is a revealing expose of the narrators favourite writers and also a study of what makes us write and what inspires us.

The main theme of this poem is one of completely emerging oneself in the literary craft. By physically surrounding herself with a room made of books the narrator is almost saying to us that she is blocking out the rest of the world and replacing it with literature. This is a world where friends are great authors, "With wanton Chekhov I shall go for a morning stroll" and even perhaps lovers, "Charles Dickens will.. Share my bed"!

From the opening stanzas which deal with reading the poem then moves onto writing. There is a very different feeling here. One of uncertainty and a maybe even a lack of confidence. Even the very act of getting words onto paper seems new and different as she describes her fingers as "fledglings".

This poem has a good structure and some nice images: I particularly enjoyed the metaphor of literature being likened to alcohol. Structurally however I have to agree with Coral that the punctuation detracts from the overall poem. I'm not a subscriber to the excesses of the punctuation police but an ellipsis followed by three exclamation marks suggests some kind of desperation or lack of confidence in what has been written. Be confident, your words are enough!

This poem seems to have struck a chord with many writers here and I enjoyed reading it and the concept that we are "inmates" here at Writers Cafe really made me chuckle.

[Ed Hart]

bottoms up!

[Hello, Goodbye]

I loved this.. great poetry..