You jumped the queue, Mike,
took the lace out of your shoe.
Came unhinged, used the door hinge.
Cared intensely.
It all ended in intensive care.
Last time. End of time.
You set sail away from this strife-life
On the sea of non-life, after-life.
Sailing speaks of a surface
and staying on it.
God, we did.
Oh Mike, we stayed on the surface.
If only we’d known.
This is good Dave, has a nice 'sound' too; bet it'd be good as a live piece
best wishes, Steve
You may have stayed on the surface but the current in the poem runs deep. Quite chilling and sad.
Great interplay of words too.
Dave,
I like the way the laconic inter-play ofthe words in the first six lines describes the situation...and its aftermath. Also the play on the word `surface` and `life` afterwards.
Nothing is said about depth in the poem at all and there is no exclamation after `oh Mike`...Which makes those last two lines (to me) seemmore like a groan than a cry.
A very suggestive poem.
If you wish to post a comment you must login.
This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.
M.C. Newberry
Thu 31st Jan 2013 18:51
This brings to mind the time dealing with a seaman who'd hanged himself in his hostel cubicle in the early hours of the morning. Our efforts to cut him down were rudely interrupted by an angry shout from a waking resident down the corridor to "keep your ******* noise down"! We heard no more so we assumed we were successful in complying with the unseen demand of one who was "on the surface" so to speak, and who would, no doubt, have agreed that it was preferable not to have known.