[Matt Q]

After the universe exploded

After the universe exploded
Large chunks of matter whizzed around
In the space where the sky used to be
Which was extremely dangerous
And everyone stayed inside
Just to be on the safe side
And those of us with experience of staying inside
From our lives before the universe exploded
Gave advice to the others
And felt a little smug

But really there was no outside left
It had exploded along with the rest of the universe
And that meant there was also no inside either
Which really was extremely dangerous
But we stayed inside anyway
Because we thought it would be safer
And those of us with experience of pretending to exist
From our lives before the universe exploded
Gave advice to the others
And felt a little smug
.

[Glenn Wright]

Very effective parable on how our tribalism and triumphalism will outlast the universe. The repetition, mirroring, and simple, direct language give it bite.

[Matt Q]

Thanks for commenting Glenn, I'm glad you found things to like. And thanks for telling me how you read it, too. That's something I'm always interested to hear.

Best,

Matt

[David Callin]

Well, if you want to know how I read it, it's as a clever and affecting mash-up of fears brought on by the perceived approach of the apocalypse together with a wry - and slightly self-ridiculing - view of the artist as someone who has known smaller (but not small) worries for much much longer.

How accurate that is, I don't know, of course. But I like it for what I think it is, anyway.

Cheers

David

[John Riley]

What I read Matt is the end of the universe. Time's up and the planet has exploded and the narrator may or may not be reporting from the inside. First, he's cocky but then realizes that there can't be an inside without an outside. Perhaps he is something else now? I like the hermit POV. Someone who is well-skilled from experience in being cooped up finally has a moment of comeuppance over the people he/she has envied before. I don't know if that is what you intended but I like thinking of it that way.

What I'm of two minds about is the type of narration. The flatness is like a report, a scientific report, or a newspaper article, which fits quite well. There is a bit of me, however, that wants a little more spark, and frisson in the language. That is secondary, though.

Overall, I like it.

[Paula Fernandez]

Hi Matt--

I've been haunting the metrical poetry forum for a couple of weeks, but then thought I'd take a peek over here to see the work of those whom I might, ordinarily, think of as the exiles. The first poem I found (ironically) was yours. I truly did laugh out loud. Well done. I think you've been brilliant in your use of repetition with difference between the two strophes. And while there is definitely a stoic humor here, there is also something quite dark underneath. This is the voice of the invisible ones whistling in the dark, waiting for their moment to shine, which, they really do know, is never. I think the flatness, the repetition, the wry humor all works really well. Thank you for this offering.

[Matt Q]

David, John, Paula,

Sorry for the slow reply. I've been away for a couple of weeks. And many thanks for your comments. Much appreciated.

There's definitely an element of tribalism here, as Glenn points out. I was also hoping the reader would note that the N is a member of a tribe that (prior to the end of the universe) spent a lot of time staying in and pretending to exist. So I'm pleased that aspect also seemed to have come across to you.

I did wonder it the poem would benefit from it being clearer who exactly who that tribe was. Since it's unlikely that I'll get more crits on this, I'll explain what I had in mind when I wrote this, which was a couple of years back. I was thinking of the pandemic, and lockdown, when many people were complaining about the challenges of having to stay in most of the day, the social isolation, the boredom etc. Whereas for me, and for a lot of chronically/ill disabled people, this wasn't too much of a change. We'd had had a lot of practice in this area.

But short of titling this something like, "the sick man chronicles the end of the universe", I don't know how I'd steer the reader to this particular reading, and a title like that seems to give too much away too soon. And maybe it works well enough as it is, with the reader deciding who that tribe is? Usually, I'm happy for the reader to make of a poem what they will. I'd be interested to hear any thoughts on this.

David,

That reading works fine for me, thanks.

John,

"Someone who is well-skilled from experience in being cooped up finally has a moment of comeuppance over the people he/she has envied before.". Yes, very much that. Really pleased that came across.

"then realizes that there can't be an inside without an outside". Useful to know that you read it this way. It's made me realise that what I've written is ambiguous. I think what I wanted to say is that there's no inside (or outside) because the universe has exploded, so everything, themselves included, is gone, and hence they are only pretending to exist. Whereas I can definitely see how it reads as saying there's no inside because there's no outside, which seems more like making a logical distinction, and maybe implying they're still here, and still exist, but that where they exist can't reasonably be called inside ... I'll think about whether there's a better way to phrase this.

Paula,

A belated welcome to the Sphere!

"This is the voice of the invisible ones whistling in the dark, waiting for their moment to shine, which, they really do know, is never." I really like your take on this Paula. And very pleased you enjoyed the poem.


Thanks again, all.

Matt