when the cold front blows in,
I sit alone on a bench on Knoblock
Street, reading scripture
from a green bound bible.
A stranger stops and introduces
himself—I can smell the pleather
from his black jacket, but can't
pierce his shades, and the sky
is overcast. I oblige. He hands me
a track, and then a whole pamphlet
about how I need Jesus. And maybe
I do. So I take them and he walks away.
He could be my angel.
My last day, and I sit on a bench
on Knoblock Street with tickets
to heaven. Up the block, a mailman
meanders among mailboxes, through
an alley, and vanishes behind
an open Dumpster, reappearing yonder
from a Baptist church, like a white
rabbit. I track him down the street,
snout to the sidewalk, like coon hound.
Hiding between two vehicles, red,
parked on Hester Street,
alongside a frat house, blue
on some days, but today is overcast,
I listen to the mailman’s feet slap
up steps and shuffle on a porch.
A bronze flapper clanks and a dog
barks in a small town. I turn the corner,
storm the porch and pry open the box,
like a thief, with eager fingers.
I reach in, but there is nothing.
Author notes
I don't really steal mail
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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Random thoughts:
Line 2 - What a wonderful street name. I normally read poetry out loud to myself, and these first four lines trip out over the tongue very nicely.
4 - Not sure what purpose having "Bound bible" isolated serves. I'm all for enjambament, but with purpose
5 - I don't know if this was intentional, but after the comment in the preceding stanza about reading scripture, I was put very much in mind of a parable. Probably just the whole stranger passing ona street, thing.
- I like that the line finishes on introduces, there's a very fun playful ambiguity there.
6 - I had a very strong identification with this line, purely because whenever I'm around soemone with a leather jacket it's the only thing I can smell, I have no idea.
8 - "pierce his shades" is a great piece of word play.
10 - A track? Is this just terminology I'm not aware of? Track to me normally means song, or train, lol.
12 - Again, delaying "Jesus" makes the "need" hang very nicely and ambiguously at the end of the previous line.
14 - There's a wonderful nonchalence and detachedness to this. It's very carefully executed though, it's not a sense of not caring, but more a general, slightly detached, sense of not knowing. The little comments like "I oblige" and "Maybe I do." are very endearing.
15 - I lke the last day and tickets to heaven thing, a holiday in the city as a metaphor for life on earth is an intriguing one.
16 - Nicely drawn back ot the opening.
18 - Can't say I like "mailman" and "mailboxes" in such close proximity.
19-20 - I really like the imagery, but to met at least it doesn't quite seem to fit. Because effectively you're describing his procgress, but you don't *really* say that he disappears. Granted, you do say he goes into an alley, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's out of sight. But that sort of means that when you say "he emerges from a baptist church" I end up wondering at what point he disappeared.
21 - Liking "snout to the sidewalk" a lot.
23 - I really do love the characterisation of the narrator. The little details of colours are very nicely added.
28 - Very nice alliteration.
31 - very nice
32 - I'm not sure if "like a thief" is particuarly worthwhile here. I mean, the narrator is effectively stealing something. So they're saying "then I stole something, like a thief". I mean, well duh. You can get away with aying it in this context, but it still feels a tad redundant.
33 - Well, the message I get from this is atheistic, am I wrong?
language: 5, rhythm: 4, subject: 4, tone: 5, form: 4.
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almost there
Lorek,
it's nice to come back to the site after a long weekend of grueling work and find an extensive review of a poem. thank you.
this poem started out as a free-write. and then i tried to cut it down and make it something tangible. of course, every poem strives to convey some truth. poetry is supposed to be truth in it's truest form, however fictional the scenario. but i'm not quite sure what i was going for here. if you think the poem is about atheism, you may be on to something. but the overall sense i get is that there is nothing inside myself, err, the character. opening the mailbox is kinda like opening himself. he is empty inside. which means, i suppose, he is needing, searching, to be filled, contented, spiritually. anyhow, maybe i'm looking too far into this... and maybe this is just my Christian sentiments coming out. how hard it is to express faith in poetry! uhg. perhaps expressing the un-faith is a step closer though. idk.
he stanza about the mailman was the hardest for me. i didn't know how to make the mailman disappear. i'm glad you told me that he didn't in your mind. this means i have to go back and tweak it again. maybe i will with your suggestions. but i've gotten to the point where i can't look at it for a while. ya know?
but really, these suggestions are greatly helpful. and i know this one needs a lot of revision still. oh, and "track) might be spelled "tract" idk. but it is a small pamphlet evengelists pass out on the streets, which teach the message of Jesus. and a most wonderful message it is.
always,
Pap
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Ah, I see. I guess I just saw the way that the narrator was being given all of these things about religion, she then folows the deliveryman,a s it were, and upon opening the delivery, finds it empty, which was how I reasoned round to atheistic anyway. Very intriguing though.
Ah I see, it's like tract? kewl.
Glad you found the comment helpful, tis always the hope,
Chris
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so what was with stealing mail? i think i got it but im not sure.
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Hey Pap - Good story-poem. First stanza threw me off; as it stands it's a dependent clause. If you get rid of the "and" at the beginning of the second line, voila, it's a sentence. Also, it's "tract". I liked the rhythms of this. Cheers, MJ
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Eureka!
Mojo,
Thanks for the suggestion of removing "and" in the second line. I was really lost trying to figure out how to reword the first stanza. It started off in the passive voice, which didn't fit with the rest of the poem in active voice. When I changed it, I knew it was a little off. So I'm glad your English teacher's eye helped me out.
As for the whole, I'm still tweaking it. The poem started out as a free-write, and I've been trying to make it into something tangible the last couple weeks.
Nice to hear from you.
Always,
Pap
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worthy read.....
Hi,
Your imagery is stark, I love it!....and I remember the feeling when I was a kid....waiting for the mail....being aware of exactly when the delivery came....and the precious joy that the final arrival of the package or letter brought..... It seems like I still am eager for the mail, the emotion now is a less pleasant mix....
I liked the way you contacted all my senses...It really brought the whole scene home....
The line "he could be my angel" seems to forwarn of the disappointment...like almost too much hope. You wound the pace of everyday life through with the blue and then grey sky...
This piece has a yesteryear feel...sepia...taking pamphlets on the streets could be dangerous these days...
Thank you for a sensitive read...ttfn Laurel
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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hey pap
reread this a couple of times to better understand this...then i looked at the title and it was aha...this about your last day on earth (right?) now that i know the meaning i'd say this is well done descibing what its like to crossover. if there is an afterlife i'll bet its just like you describe.
dave -
Applaud
I'm so glad to hear that you don't really steal mail. However, about your poem, it held my interest to the very end. Was a good story and I enjoyed the ending tremendously.
Birdie
language: 3, rhythm: 3, subject: 5, tone: 3, form: 2.
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I get the feeling that I'm missing the point.
I have this feeling like this was a metaphor for something else, something more meaningful, but I have no idea. I'll probably wake up at 3:00 am, finally getting it. Oh well. I'll just wait for my intellegience to come back. This still was interesting, though.
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