hey all.
I study writing at university, just did a poetry unit, getting quite good marks. Any comments at all are welcome.
These two poems relate directly to the same event, in which I had an overdose and woke up in a hospital bed.
Relapse
I’d wondered if when the climax
fades, after general acclaim,
do characters revert to their prologue ways.
With no action or reaction left,
no hook-nosed villains,
no character flaws or plot twists
just couples kneeling
by the oven fire
seizing each other’s wrists.
After reading the end
I was so tired
I could die.
When I turned
on the light,
I found nothing had changed
while the power was out
and by my side
a woman listed the poisons she’d hidden
the previous night,
in the cavernous hole behind her eyes.
Composure
I read the details of the breakdown
like a poem.
The rhythms the doctor weaved
were exquisite, I quickly came to feel
for the tragedy of this misguided boy.
The writing
was of such high calibre
that his pain became my pain,
if just for the duration of the read.
The writer performed the piece for me,
privately.
He spoke with solemn clarity and conviction,
believing in the strength of the words,
allowing them space to breathe.
I thanked him after he reached the conclusion
he nodded curtly and left.
I lied still and
marvelled at the narrative,
how it spoke directly to me.
16 Nov 2007, 10:49 pm
