money on the table
a couple crumpled dollarbills
flip folded flush to the oak
rough rough rough hewn from
behemoth tree up the road
just up the road
to the apex of the hill
George, he smiles up from his trough
one two six twelve wrinkled like so
strewn and wadded and
what gives them legality
or worth? their gold equivalent
the bullion backing them
might be from these hills might be
as fleeting as the fist that dropped them here
daddy don't take those pills. please.
mamma my bed is so cold.
I can look at the sky when dusk turns to night
but the air through the roof taunts and whispers to me
and when I wake and you're gone
and my stomach is empty
and the cold comes blowing from the hills
ain't a thing I can do but cry,
search the hardwood table for the missing wadded bills.
don't fret child,
close your eyes to the rising forest.
hush your cry, child,
sing a hymn you coax from the ashen trees
with the throaty voice of a feathery angel.
in Heaven your belly will fill.
in Heaven your limbs won't ache.
in Heaven your salt-weary eyes will laugh
and you will sleep barefoot on the grass
no plywood pseudo-shelters on the virginal meadows.
in Heaven the springs now fallow will flow
Author notes
Poverty.
Have added a penultimate stanza at the suggestion of an esteemed colleague and after some consideration; please consider it a rough draft, and look upon it with critical eyes.
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Backwards Into the Backwoods!
Hogtied by your hillbilly hell depiction here, Nienna. The first person headtrip narration is direct and in-the-face for the reader.
I see you ve worked with this one and it shows in the best possible way - disjointed elements decrying the desperation of penury coalesce into an overall emotive canvas that sings to the listener.
The allitteration worked well I thought.
Btw do you mean bullion for bouillon or am I missing something?
Your literary descriptions are gathering poetic momentum and displaying empathic gravitas at every turn nowadays, Nienna.
I especially liked the image of the child staring at open sky through a ramshackle roof.
The Appalachian element is well defined and I really enjoyed the claustrophobic forest feel of the final stanza - ashen trees and all to render a sense of lamentation for the trials of the backwooded woebegones with a dumb almost bovine faith promising them better things upon cessation of hardborne vexistence.
Great stuff Nienna - one of the best.
Cheers
squeallikeapigGboy!
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ooooooops...
I did of course mean bullion. You seem to catch me at my most confused finest, Freudian slipping along with my addled vocabulary into and around this place
'Tis much appreciated.
That your astute eye finds this piece worthy gladdens me, gG. All four of the stanzas seemed to me such different and isolated entities, and my fondness for them perhaps more a filial attachment than anything else; BUT, if gG approves, then I have faith in their pertinence.
I think I owe you some comments...as soon as my brain deigns itself lucid enough to explore the product of yours I will leave my mark.
Cheers, back at you!
Nenni
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I love the imagery. I've never really read something like this before, but it's really good and I like it. Good job.
Himmel -
The images here were incredible. The second stanza was just amazing reiteration to the idea of the crumpled dollar bills on the first stanza; and the questioning of that piece of green paper's worth struck me.
I can relate to this poem quite clearly. I've seen the world in this perspective, and the uncertainty of a daily meal, and the constant prayer uttered to the heavens for hope of a better day. The last stanza was almost like a last strand kind of comfort to the hungry child.
This poem seems to have very little punctuations. Also, i've noticed you seem to use alliteration quite often. Just an observation, not bad at all. The repetitions here and there, gave this texture.
Part of me feels there's something missing, a stanza maybe. I don't know. Though i like how there so much that can be added and yet, much of what needs to be said, is written. I don't know. Lovely read as always.
-iphios -
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Hello, Iph, thank you for the comment.
I also think there's something missing. It's a definite rough draft, improved from the scribble it came from last night; I don't know what it is, though. I can't seem to put my finger on it, but I almost think I'm missing a feeling. If you can think of anything more definitive I'd love your help. Maybe a transition from the first two stanzas to the last? I don't know either. But thank you for the honesty; it'll give me impetus to keep going, I think.
Good to hear from you; hope you're well.
Nienna -
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Hey Nienna,
I was thinking along the same lines---adding a transition from the first two stanzas to the last. The question is how do transition from questioning about the meaning of money to the soothing of a child. Maybe a solid image of that child? Something that ties them all together as the first two stanza focuses more on the money, than on those who lack it. I don't know. If i think of anymore, i'll let you know.
I'm quite well. hope you are too.
-iphios -
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Thanks Iph, good thoughts. I think they've helped the brain get to chugging and thinking about doing this one some justice. It's awesome to have a helpful friend as a sounding board.
I'll let you know if/when it gets revised to get the seal of approval (hopefully).
Much love,
Nenni
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another masterpiece. as usual you paint a vivid abstract picture. this one has A LOT of meaning hidden behind it. i love how you changed gears at the end. gives kind of as darkly optimistic end. saw a lot of nihilism and perspectivism in this piece, (both philosophies of my own) rejecting the worth of what they tell you has value, in favor of what is real to you. pulling meaning from human experience (in this case, poverty). great job, keep writing.
and as usual... gotta spit my favorite line back to you
no plywood pseudo-shelters on the virginal meadows.
in Heaven the springs now fallow will flow
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