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Explain me with notebook and pencil
stuck in the throat of your table.
The door left ajar, she suspends a flower
by a thumb and its Latin label;
plucking and preying on petals.
Sex and Death, I guess, she shakes her head,
her hand an illegible scribble.
A doctor giving bad news?
That's a cracking second line.
Thanks, Ann, steve. A play on my name! What, ray miller,putting a ray through a mill. If you like light bread? Who is steve black? Why is his name black?
Okay, what kind of person does have an illegible scribble, uses Latin labels, explains you with notebook and pencil? It's not Fabio Capello.
Now I think of it, you must be onto the right track with 'he loves me, he loves me not' - such a simple game that we used to play as children.
She is looking for anwers that he can't give. The only thing for sure is Sex and Death. We are conceived, we die.
Hmmmmm. I guess the petal plucking is "he loves me he loves me not." Maybe he feels she is trying to categorise him, (Explain me with notebook and pencil) the way she is categorising the flower by using its latin name. Too literal, too cold a way to describe a man or a flower. When is a door not a door - and how can a table have a throat? Dunno! Like the poem tho. I don't think it matters what you meant really. But it is fun trying to work it out. Or are we trying to categorise you? At first I even wondered if it might be a play on your name. That would make a good poem!
Bloody hell - I always fall for that one! Okay - here goes...
1) It's about a game of charades where the man isn't very good at guessing and the woman is a poor artist.
2) A man is invited to understand what a woman is feeling/thinking/ her innermost. He fails dismally causing her extreme frustration.
Why Sex and Death? Sex rather than love is what preoccupies many men. Death the ultimate end to everything physical and none.
The denuded flower maybe is something to do with her heart being shredded - who knows?
Am I warm or hideously cold?
Thanks, andy,Isobel. I posted this on another site recently. People came up with their own stories. When I said what it was about several complained that I shouldn't have, preferring their own narrative. So I'll let you decide.
There is probably a deep meaning to this poem that I'm not getting. I've read it a few times - last night and today, waiting for it to leap out at me. You may have to explain it to me!
stuck in the throat of your table is a heck of a image, ray but i do like the full image.. just that image sticks in my throat (not the full table thankfully - lol)
stuck in the throat of your table is a heck of a image, ray but i do like the full image.. just that image sticks in my throat (not the full table thankfully - lol)
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Isobel
Fri 1st Oct 2010 08:40
The explanations for your poems always leave me thinking 'oh'...
They seem like an elaborate set up to lead people down the wrong path. Had you chosen a male doctor perhaps we wouldn't have all jumped to the wrong conclusions. And perhaps Measles, Mumps or Chickenpox would have been a better guess than Sex and Death - or genital herpes even...