Wednesday, January 28, 2009

A poem

As I've been thinking about writing and style, I looked back over some poems I have tucked away on my computer and thought I would let this one out of the box. I don't like its length, and I have no technique, but I like the sentiment.

The Party Blues

What comes over her
as the party approaches
is close to implosion.

Strange feelings
of misfit
canvas shoes
and argyle shorts

The possibility
of a dry
rasping in
her throat

while all around her
drown
in champagne

Play a dirge,
she cries.
She cannot
stomach anything else.

The h'or douvres
will pass
like sand
in an hourglass.

2 comments:

onlinesoph said...

i like it (and can relate to it!). it reminds me of The Lovesong of J Alfred Prufrock by TS Eliot. Especially the line, "In the room the women come and go, talking of michaelangelo". I love that line.

What don't you like about the length? I reckon it could be one stanza shorter.

sophg said...

Haha it's nowhere near Eliot, but thanks!

It's funny, I feel it's a bit abrupt, underdeveloped and has too many ideas.

I know what you mean though - the last stanza is like a second ending. Meh... i really need to study how to write poetry at some point.