Victoriana

 In the drab walled room in the attic

I peer from the spotted mirror

in the cavernous dressing table.

Ochre lit.

Out of the sooty window

the ice of muslin flapping wetly

the street  all oil cloth and patent roofs

I am corset bound and flesh-pinched

white and soft above and below

all singed curls and droppered earrings,

peeping coyly

hiding the disease and wrapping myself in virtue.

But when you leave with your stare and tut and all the dead relatives

withdraw to their paintings

I claw myself bloody.

◄ Curing Poetry

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Comments

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Rachel Bond

Wed 11th Aug 2010 01:56

this is excellent. patent roofs, of course they are like patent leather shiny in the rain, but also referring to material like felt and turf.
i would put and all the dead relatives on another line, but that s just to suit the way i read it.
I claw myself bloody is the perfect raw calling to the true emotion of being held by the corset bars and the turning in of frustrations behind the window of that repression xx smashing x

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Dave Bradley

Fri 6th Aug 2010 16:29

This is very good Rachel. Tut, how did I miss it? Hopefully the recent change will mean less blogs slipping by. Nothing since?

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Isobel

Fri 16th Jul 2010 19:36

You are foul Banksy - but funny, very funny!

<Deleted User> (7212)

Wed 14th Jul 2010 10:39

I'm right on it !

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Rachel McGladdery

Wed 14th Jul 2010 10:05

Ohh you lovelies, I felt moved (with no alcohol involved either) at these comments. I think you are all being lovely and gentle with me and it's appreciated.
Isobel sorta wins though...it's around hysteria and it's links with sexual repression I think...now we just need someone to write a poem on the first clinically used electrical vibrators.
xxx

<Deleted User> (7212)

Tue 13th Jul 2010 23:14

marvellous use of words & imagery. I wouldn't worry too much about rooves - for me our language is more interesting, not less with adapted/twisted words - for northern folks, what about slutch, mithering, mawping, sloppy daw-daw, manderous (mandrous?) and Isobel's favorrite = It's (sorry)

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Francine

Tue 13th Jul 2010 22:10

Ouais ! Elle est revenue ; )

'hiding the disease and wrapping myself in virtue.'
What an interesting line Rachel - love it!
x

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Isobel

Tue 13th Jul 2010 20:45

Back with a bang. Great to see you posting again Rachel - your stuff is always a joy to read.

I get the impression of a woman full of repressed lust and desire - it must have been a bugger to live back in those times... x

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Greg Freeman

Tue 13th Jul 2010 14:57

Sorry to hijack your blog, Rachel, but it is roofs/hooves, Ann, although the dictionary does concede you can also have hoofs. You had me worried so I double-checked! It's a strange and wonderful thing, the English language

Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Tue 13th Jul 2010 13:57

only need one word from me Rach-fantasmogorical! I,m not sure if thats a real word(lol!)-maybe shit-hot would be more lancashirely understood-brill! brill!brill! up the lancashire poets!! hoorah! Stef-xx

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 13th Jul 2010 13:47

I guess patent roofs look all wet and black and shiny, Ray. I guess it is roofs? Rooves sound better to me. (And is it hooves or hoofs? Greg - I think we should be told! ;-))

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Andy N

Tue 13th Jul 2010 13:36

this is quite close to prose, Rach I feel and maybe even flash fiction (I'm adapting one poem into that as a experiment) but either way this again is another cracker of a piece, and I think also you've got a real knack of strong last lines! Nice one! x

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Ray Miller

Tue 13th Jul 2010 13:25

I'd never heard of patent roofs before and I'm not sure what the "disease" refers to but there's an awful lot to like here. corset bound (needs a hyphen?)and flesh-pinched. I claw myself bloody. Well, the last 3 lines are excellent, I think.

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 13th Jul 2010 12:18

Just popped in to say "WOW!" xx (Have you come across my Doxy poem? She has a follow up too which I might post. Somehow this made me think of her. I want to do another bit where she's been "rescued" - but she doesn't like it! xx)

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Rachel McGladdery

Tue 13th Jul 2010 12:02

Changed it x

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Greg Freeman

Tue 13th Jul 2010 11:52

Wow! What's all this about writer's block? Like "the street all oilcloth and patent rooves" - although it should be roofs! - that glistening look, and "the dead relatives withdraw to their paintings". Really powerful final line. So glad you're back and pushing the bar higher for the rest of us.

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