3:15 am (tunnel vision)

 

3.15, legs and sweat, 1997

tangled hands and black-eyed lust

smoke break interrupted

ears pricked, heads dipped

a heap of limbs in parody

 

four of us can say for sure

what we were doing then

when Henri Paul lost control

in Pont de l'Alma tunnel

and pixellated puckered tin

bathed bodies in the flicker

and a nation woke and mourned

while we just necked another

and dilated, changed the channel over

 

CHOON!

 

🌷 (3)

◄ I 'Did' Want To Talk…

unmartyred ►

Comments

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Jon

Mon 22nd May 2017 12:57

Wow...great poem Laura. It always takes me a minute to catch on to what might be obvious to others. Love the mingling of everyday life and the event that everybody remembers with shock.
Really made me stop and think when I realised what had happened in this.
Hope you're ok !! Jon x

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Jon

Mon 22nd May 2017 12:57

Wow...great poem Laura. It always takes me a minute to catch on to what might be obvious to others. Love the mingling of everyday life and the event that everybody remembers with shock.
Really made me stop and think when I realised what had happened in this.
Hope you're ok !! Jon x

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Laura Taylor

Fri 12th May 2017 12:03

Wow, thanks so much all 😃

Cynth - she's a poet, quite well known for her 52 prompts idea. I came across her as I was doing a half-arsed attempt at NaPoWriMo, and found this, which I've used to spark off quite a few poems. I don't always (never) stick to the actual prompts themselves, but they're really useful as springboards. Check these out:

https://belljarblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/04/a-month-of-poetry-prompts1.pdf

That WAS a bit weird Colin! I thought the funeral was gobsmacking too.

Aww, thank you so much Stu. And aye, heh - we were all a bit 'wtf' when this kinda crashed into our night/day too! Great way to express that 😃

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Stu Buck

Fri 12th May 2017 11:43

i'm a busy little bee but i had to drop (buzz?) by and let you know how fucking amazing this is.

pixellated puckered tin

bathed bodies in the flicker

i mean. really. thats some hot shit.

not the same occasion but i was still split off my tits when the wtc came down and i remember it being a transformative moment, as if the real world was clawing into the fantasy i had created, kind of like rubbing away the paint of an abstract piece of art to find a realist landscape underneath. fab fab fab and you are also fab.

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Colin Hill

Fri 12th May 2017 09:10

a nation momentarily and collectively losing the plot and all grip on reality - a defining historical moment that will no doubt be debated for decades to come.

not long after the news car crashed into our living rooms I found myself in Paris standing next to the makeshift memorial near The Tunnel - not intentionally, we just happened across it by accident (no pun intended) and it took several more moments for the penny to drop.

I remember thinking I felt no connection to this story which had finally lost control of its senses and overdosed in tragedy like some drug-addled pop star. I still don't and I still wonder how so many 'ordinary' people did. Weird world.

excellent poem.
Col.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Thu 11th May 2017 17:09

One of your best, Laura. You are a star!

Who is Jo Bell?

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raypool

Thu 11th May 2017 16:11

Feels like a compression of deed and words Laura; full of power and meaning -like a shock hung out to dry. Great stuff.

Ray

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Paul Waring

Thu 11th May 2017 15:25

Great writing Laura, many fine lines here but:

"pixellated puckered tin
bathed bodies in the flicker"

really stands out for me.

Paul

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Laura Taylor

Thu 11th May 2017 15:02

Hi David

You have fast fingers you do!

Cheers. This came from a writing prompt from Jo Bell, about a historic moment and its effect on your life.

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Wolfgar Miere

Thu 11th May 2017 14:46

Hi Laura,

A great snap shot of a moment in time, which for most Brits whether they cared or not became a before and after moment. I do like the casual disinterest of the channel flick.

Our nation became collectively stunned, I remember walking back to my house on the Waterside in Londonderry, staring across to the bogside, imagining how the news would delight many a household over there.

Great title by the way.

Nice one,

David.

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