[Jim Moonan]

.

Them


We've had a lover’s quarrel from the start.
They hold my tongue. I hold their heart.

I lie awake and scheme them,
fall asleep and dream them.

I count them and cage them,
break them, shape them, contort them. .

I tangle them, mangle them,
am served them on a plate, then eat them.

I repeat them, delete them,
feed them, need them, bleed them.

I ogle them, savor them. inhale them.
Make them wear lipstick. Fondle them.

I fling them, pick them up and bring them
to bed, talk pillow talk with them.

I adore them, hoard them,
want more and more and more of them.

I pray for them, play with them,
go ticker tape and spray them.

I woo them, rue them.
Birth them then orphan them.

I gladly bear them like an affliction,
suffer madly their addiction.

I hear them softly sing to me
I echo them my stilted melody.


EDITS
Title was "Words"
S3L2 was: contort them into crooked lines.
S4L2 was: rearrange them, then eat them.
S7L1 was: I treat them like a fling, bring them
S9L1 was: I pray for them, pay for them,
S12L2 was: I sing back to them my stilted melody.



--------------------------------

Words Are Whores

“I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.” —Robert Frost


I count my words.
I keep them in cages.
I rearrange them.
I tangle them.
I mangle them.
I speak them to death.
I delete them.
I contort them into sentences
I abandon them.
I make them wear lipstick.
I repeat them.
I fondle them.
I eat them.
I fight them.
I listen for them.
I collect them.
I strip them.
I want them.
I pray for them.
I pay for them.
I miss them when they're gone.
I can’t conquer them.
I adore them.
I treat them like a whore.
I want more and more of them.
I’m addicted to them.
I find them simply irresistible.
I swear at them.
I see them taste them smell them feel them.
I hear them singing.
I think they sing to me.
They do not.





.

[Jim Moonan]

.
Aggh! I didn't mean to post this just yet! Like I sometimes do, I put it up to see how it looks on the board before posting/submitting it because that sometimes gives me insight... But a slip of the finger — click — it's done.

I don’t know where this one came from. I don’t know why poems like this one come out of me from time to time. It’s like I’m a stranger in my own imagination. I do like to startle. I think I like it.

.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Jim—

I like everything about this poem except the title. The title forces a single, limited, very vivid image that then colors the rest of the piece. How about something a bit more coy—something like “My Obsession” or “Word Fetish”—to let the readers form their own impressions? I’m also not sold on the relevance of or necessity for the epigraph.

I especially like the sound cues (rhymes, alliterations, assonances) that are in adjacent lines and keep the flow moving: count/keep/cages, tangle/mangle, pray/pay, adore/whore/more and more, the /s/ alliteration in the last six lines. I wonder if you could find a few more to put together, like “fondle” and “fight.” These irregularly placed connections play against the relentless anaphora of each line beginning with “I” like a drumbeat.

The next-to-last line is reminiscent of Eliot’s “Prufrock,” where he says, “I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each./ I do not think that they will sing to me.” I wonder if this reference would still come through if you emphasized the unfaithfulness of words with the line: “I think they sing just to me.”

Enjoyed it.

Glenn

[Roger Slater]

I don't think the quote is doing anything useful.

I might also omit the first line, and amend the title, so as not to tell us explicitly that you're talking about words. It will be clear enough as the poem progresses, but at least give the reader the task, however easy, of figuring it out.

I also heard the Prufrock echo, and I didn't care for it. Perhaps follow "I swear at them" with "I swear with them" and let that be the ending?

[Jim Moonan]

.
Thanks Glenn and Roger. I'll let your comments digest and work on revision in the morning.

As for the quote, it was last-minute. The connection is that the poem is an account of one poet's quarrel with words. But epigraphs often fail to do what one intend's them to do. They seldom do much to help the poem. Effectively, they become footnotes. Only on rare occasions do they work, imo.

.

[John Riley]

This may be the best of your poems I’ve seen. Happy accident. I agree about cutting the quote. It’s Frost’s most quoted sentence and diminishes. That’s my suggestion. Well done, Jim.

[Jayne Osborn]

Hi Jim,
This is very unusual, and a clever idea; I like the way you've put it together.

Out of interest, I went back to it with Bob's suggestion in mind, that of omitting the first line, but without "I speak them to death" and "I contort them into sentences", I wouldn't find it easy to figure out that the subject of the poem is "words".

It might just be me, but I don't want the task of trying to work out what a poem means - so in this instance I would suggest the complete opposite (sorry, Bob). I would call the poem "Words" and make the first line "I count them".
Thinking about it some more... I would suggest omitting the last line, for a much more pleasant ending!

I would also strongly urge you to change the title. I found it grim, and not worthy of what follows.

Jayne

[Joe Crocker]

I think I'm with Jayne here. ie change title, drop Frost quote and think about the ending. "They do not" is a sledgehammer full stop. And I can see why you might want that. But I rather liked the Prufrock reference and maybe you could steal it more blatantly with "I do not think they sing to me" and end there.

Enjoyed

Joe

oh and for the first line, rather than "count", how about "I mind my words"?

[Trevor Conway]

Hi Jim,

Well, the title certainly drew my attention! I like it despite the obviously provocative nature of it. I think the repetition works, though you could definitely cut some of the "I"s to improve the overall flow.

Some suggestions below. Bold = delete. Additions are in square brackets.

I enjoyed this a lot.

Trevor


I count my words.
I keep them in cages.
I rearrange them.
I tangle them.
I mangle them.
I speak them to death.
I delete them.
I contort them into sentences
I abandon them.
I make them wear lipstick.
I repeat them.
I fondle them.
I [and] eat them.
I fight them.
[fight for them].
I listen for [to] them.
I collect them.
I strip them.
I want them.
I pray for them.
I pay for them.
[and] I miss them when they're gone.
I can’t conquer them.
I adore them.
I treat them like a whore[s].
I want more and more of them.
I’m addicted to them.
I find them simply irresistible.
I swear at them.
I see them[,] taste them[,] smell them[,] feel them.
I hear them singing.
I [and] think they sing to me.
They do not.

[Jim Ramsey]

Hi Jim,

Well, you've created a list poem, a pretty good one as far as list poems go. My personal taste is against so much repetition, all those "Is" and "thems." I started wondering of ways you could regroup lines by sounds and context into more of a cohesive narrative. Just for the sake of experiment, I began doing it, trying to keep your original phrasings but to sequence them more logically. Obviously you were intentionally not doing that, but I wonder what you could come up with if you did. Here's a quick sketch. I did change the ending—mine's not very good. I mean it only as an example of a direction you could take if you choose to.

I count my words then cage them,
contort them into sentences and
rearrange them. Tangle, mangle,
speak them to death and eat them.

I repeat them then delete them.
I want them, I collect them, I strip them
I see them, taste them, smell them, feel them.
I make them wear lipstick.

I fondle them. I pay for them. I pray for them.
I swear at them. I fight them. I abandon them.
I miss them. I listen as they leave.
I adore them but treat them like a whore.

I want more and more of them.
I’m addicted to them.
I find them simply irresistible.
I hear them singing. I reach
for their sweet song. I want their love,
but they are gone.

All the best,
Jim R.