She collects words like some people collect
salt-and-pepper shakers, or Midwestern haus fraus
collect ceramic cows for their kitchens,
with no particular feel for the use of them.
Just a tidy domestic habit.
Hobbies are the domain of the privileged
and civilized. She likes the weight of them in her hand,
in little books she always carries around.
Collections of quotes,
Great or clever things said by other people.
She indulged long before
the Internet bore us Bartlett’s On-Line,
and all of her kind began compiling
databases from their favorite sources--
movies and Shakespeare are popular choices,
clever retorts to bolster the witless,
words of loneliness to comfort the lonely.
Her interest was always more refined,
Copying beautiful phrases and poems
painstakingly in fine inks,
amassing expensive journals
with hand-made rice paper and arty covers.
She pulls them out and looks at them,
bliss and wistfulness warring
with each slow turn of the page.
Such a fine line, my dear,
between admiration and envy.
Oh, she has been known
to artfully assemble some well-chosen items,
the way a curator would know
how to put on a show.
She has quite the arsenal at her disposal.
After all, it was she who taught me
how to smile with honeysuckle lipgloss
and hemlock lodged in my cheek.
But aside from munitions and
the occasional collage,
the rest just sits cluttered,
an antique shop storeroom
collecting dust in her brain.
Poetry is a minefield
she hasn’t the guts to cross.
Author notes
An old rival has been on my mind lately.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 34 of 34
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I really enjoyed this, the thinly veiled criticism that seemingly start with a root in compliment, then descends into an eloquent condemnation. I particularly relished the line “Hobbies are the domain of the privileged
and civilized”. I’ve known people like this, and this poem’s uttered that which I’ve thought but never said.
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Thanks, Skq. I was amazed at how many people identified with this piece-- I guess we've all got a frenemy-- the type we don't smile at so much as smirk.
I'm glad you read and left a comment. I've been off the site for a while, but I hope to return the favor soon.
Cheers,
Pie
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I know some people like this, I've befriended many of them believing they had a love for words like I did.
But as you said in this poem, there is a line between admiration and actually participating, between adoration and living in what you love.
"...movies and Shakespeare are popular choices,
clever retorts to bolster the witless,
words of loneliness to comfort the lonely."
This part has phrasing that strikes me as really particular. The amount of syllables used lines up quite well and it can only flow from there.
"She has quite the arsenal at her disposal.
After all, it was she who taught me
how to smile with honeysuckle lipgloss
and hemlock lodged in my cheek."
This description--amazing, a dip into a memory.
"But aside from munitions and
the occasional collage,
the rest just sits cluttered,
an antique shop storeroom
collecting dust in her brain."
This stanza only enforzed your point and it is again made apparent this person is indeed a rival of some sort. Though, judging by this, there is really no competition between the two of you.
And this is a wonderful sure statement and I feel it is very true.
"Poetry is a minefield
she hasn’t the guts to cross."
Good job, really. I enjoyed the read very much so.
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Hi, Synth. Thank you very much for reading and taking the time to comment. I was surprised at the response to this one-- I try to stick to themes that I think everyone can relate to, and I figured that everyone has met a wannabe or two. My presence on the site here is sporadic just now, but I hope to return the favor soon!
Cheers,
Pie
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Paws for thought!
Quite feline in its witty cutting to the quip finale that certainly does spring its trap with a whiplash smile.
As per usual CP, your pieces lead my thoughts astray to wonder about all collectors.
Surely they must be "inferior" beings; hoarders of inadmissible missives - pertaining to life perhaps, but CONTAINING only a flickering shadow of their hopes, wishes and fickle dreams.
"Oh, she has been known
to artfully assemble some well-chosen items,
the way a curator would know
how to put on a show."
is for me the most damning description of a big-toe-first-to-test-the-water dabbler in dithering verisimilitude verse. Someone who doesn´t give more than a fictitious fig of soul towards their ill-wrought escapades, crafting collated wordery to impress superficially but not to express any (un)worthy sentiment they might posess.
Coool write this, Lauren, though not one to cool hotheads in summertimes heat haze.
Damn! Makes me wish I had a rival I could maul meter by meter!!
Celestial Slaughters Ceramic Cow! Now that should ve been my headline.
Great stuff!
Cheers,
gG
PS I see what you mean with this wierd synchronicity thing (Word Collector - Collector of Tongues) and how´s Pope Joan doing?
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Dear Simon, how glad I always am when any piece of mind has been devoured into the dark mechanisms of your cerebrum!
Yes, I have always been suspicious of collectors. In my experience, they are a little on the dim side, a little on the crazy side, or both. It's a very Miss Havisham thing to do.
You understood precisely the crux of my criticism-- that some people don't have the soul for writing, even if they possess some savvy.
You have a Collector of Tongues in the works? Can't wait to see! Oh, if only I had just a few weeks where I had nothing to do but sit and read and write! I'm dying to read the rest of the Vep cycle. Pope Joan is still pages and pages away, I fear, her viciousness percolating in my imagination.
I fear for any rival you might maul with your pen.
Lauren
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some poetry has teeth, but this one has jaws
I love the controlled spitefulness of this. I hate to discover someone to be so mindful of their image. I absolutely adore the last two lines. Angry Beautiful.
. Rewarded 4
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Thanks, Raven.
Pie
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My! What a sharp crust you have..
I read it yesterday Cutie, and it hung with me for hours, like a good film or a good song goes round your head. I've deliberately not read any comments on it, wanting you to have my gut reaction - but I bet everyone loves the last two lines. They are pure cat, pure killer and pure poetry - a knock out blow delivered after the initial sparring more probing and rapier-like than the (ultimately unexpected) final, bludgeoning KO.
You show your claws to great effect here Kitty Cat and the reader must pity the object of your scorn to some extent. You give her a terrible mauling, but the reader is not even aware how sharp the attack has been until the coup de gras is delivered at the end. Definite airs of 'Les Liaiaons Dangereuses' here. Most impressive.
I would definitely change the title however. It gives away far too much to no good end. My recommendation would be 'The Collector' - some of your finest barbs are about the venial nature of such magpies and they really set the victim up for the lovely punchline about your beloved poetry.
I found lines 12 and 13 a little clunky/prosaic and may suggest
the Internet bore us 'Bartlett’s On-Line'
and all her kind began compiling ...
lines 16 and 17 are outstandingly worded and weighted.
A really fine write as usual. >W<
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Hey, John. I thought you'd get a kick out of seeing my catty side. I'm flattered at the praise-- especially the reference to 'Les Liasisons' (sp?)-- I really enjoyed that storyline, and I appreciate the (dubious) honor of having lived up to such fine back-stabbing as was presented in that film.
I had kicked around many titles. As you know, I always struggle with them, and I think you're right. I fell back on my initial choice-- "The Word Collector." From all the encouragement from you and others, you'd think I would know by now to listen to my gut.
I also like your suggestion on lines 12-13. I will revise.
XOXO,
Lauren -
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It's 'liaisons' actually..
..our French sucks. Is that a bad thing?
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ouch, that stung!
no really, cpie, a true catfight poem right here.
beneat the shallow veneer of praise, (which actually isn't really that shallow) there are hidden insults swimming around, and occasionally popping out, before going back under so fast that you wouldn't even know they were there.
sharp and witty, I like this poem.
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Hey, Nish. It's been a while! You need to drop by more often.
Thanks for reading. I hope we get some new material from you soon?
Pie -
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Heya,
yeah, I've come to the realisation that during my 18 month IB course which will start in august, I probably wont be online very much if at all, but during these summer holidays I can pop in a bit.
as for new material, well, I haven't written in so long but i'm getting the urge to write one..maybe
thanks for the good read
nish[81]
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Hey,
Ouch! I guess she has a handkerchief to her nose since she must have a (verbal) nosebleed after this one. Very impressive writing and a hell of a good an ending, Pie.
Bill
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Hi, Bill. As if I weren't catty enough with the poem, and I know karma's going to get me for saying this, but yes, I hope the bitch does bleed a bit.
Cheers,
Pie
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Wow. This is a really powerful statement! This is great really!
I don't think I've read your stuff in awhile...then again I haven't been on.
Anywho, this is wonderful stuff. It gives a sense of hate and some pain like I believe you are going for, right? I think the first few verses are okay, but then you get so much stronger when later through the poem.
Nice job,
Ashley. Rewarded 8
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Hi, SP. No, I regret to say, I can't recall ever seeing your face on one of my pages. I'm glad you read and commented on this one-- now you've seen me at my worst.
It's interesting to see that you are the first person who detected the pain of this. Best-friend-turned-enemy-- some pain involved is inescapable. It's been years, and I'm just now able to write about it with any coherence.
Yes, the first few stanzas are mostly observations, and then I let my claws out.
Thanks again for reading. I am off and and quite a bit these days, but I hope to get a chance to read some of your stuff soon.
Cheers,
Pie
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Lauren....
this sounds like an underground attack --and somehow, i like it! haha..i like how this one builds up from the beginning and then abruptly falls at the end -- nice punch! witty and tricky lol!
excellent write as always!
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Hi Lynne. Thanks for reading and commenting-- yes, I was definitely going for stealth. You know how relationships like these are-- you sneak up and strike from the back, and then you smile when they turn to face you. Nasty thing-- I'm glad I got it out!
Cheers,
Lauren
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Take this, take that...
Lauren, I really like this one. It seems to go from examining plump hausfraus settling their knick-knacks and Hummel figurines in for occupation of all valuable space and going for noticeable quantity. On to the dilettante with a greatest quote catalogue, "clever retorts to bolster the witless." The whole concept of words with physical weight is unexpected and very original. And I get very strongly a feeling that the person amassing the wisdom assumes that they are a part of the creative process by relaying them, a messenger and blessed because of it. I love the rhythm of this line: "how to smile with honeysuckle lipgloss/ and hemlock lodged in my cheek." especially "honeysuckle lipgloss." each of those four words denotes a different feeling and are still connected. Up to the last few stanzas there's no strong indication that this is part of some ongoing battle, but "aside from munitions" subtly picks up the thread of battle, what all of this started as, the rant agains a rival. The last couplet says it all, almost as strongly as your first haiku in the flood poem. The answers, the correct selections, aren't obvious and if she picks the wrong quote and offers it out as wisdom and it doesn't apply, the virtual mine has exploded. I don't see anything here that can't be written in stone. Cheers - MJ. Rewarded 8
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Hi, Richard. As always, you have looked deep into my work and caught the spirit of it. As always, I am honored at your praise.
Lauren
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Very well written, with a rich use of language.
I like how in line 16, you attack her 'to bolster the witless' and then in line 17, i feel that you give her a another dimension and you are more sympathetic. For the rest of the poem, you cut deeply. Well written as all your stuff is.
Wonderful display of spite and disdain. Love it. As regards form and structure, can't fault it.
. Rewarded 6
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Hey, AM. I'm glad to hear from you-- and I'm happy you noted the turn of sympathy/antipathy that I harbor for this person. That is exactly the strange nature of my relationship with the person-- we were the best of friends and the worst of enemies.
Cheers,
Pie
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While reading the poem, i kept on wondering who was is that you were pertaining to. Collectors of words aren't so bad, but then i think your last stanza explains the difference between the collectors and the doers.This is however filled with spite. It bites.
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Hey, Firebird. Always glad to hear from you. This poem is just about an old frenemy, I figured maybe some other people could relate to having at least one of those, if not a couple.
Glad the spite oozed through the sweetness. That pretty much defines my relationship with this person.
Thanks, as always, for reading.
Pie
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hey lauren
i really enjoyed this. years ago they ran a radio ad for a book of quotations and this pompous sounding John Hausman type (Paper Chase) says, "one never forgets where one buries the hatchet or "sports doesnt build character it reveals it" and I'd picture someone like your rival studying this book and waiting for years maybe to get off one of these pearls of wisdom at a black tie dinner party. yes, poetry should be like an old couch that nap on with your ass imprint on it or a clothes line not fine china stored away in cabinet saved for special company.
i've noticed your last 2 or 3 poems have been more accessible and i've really liked them. not to say the more challanging ones are lesser, its my own preference spawned out of laziness.
dave. Rewarded 8
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Hi, Dave. You have seen into the heart of the poem-- one of those smarmy academics hoarding quotes to use to not only be cruel, but to make themselves sound smarter.
I like your images of poetry being an old couch or a clothes line-- I think that's a poem waiting to happen!
Thanks for commenting on the recent accessibility of my pieces. They have been coming to me with a new clarity. Glad it shows.
Lauren
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I hear cpie...
...still contending with the frail ghost of her past, and I agree, she IS an enemy. Watch out for her, Lauren, she may still have power to pull you away from your poetry and claim victory at last. Ooooh, this is rich and mysterious stuff, and I love every word and nuance. If I'm way off, then I still can enjoy this catfight between you and someone real, someone who addictively collects useless junk, but also very useful "munitions..."
Collectors make me nervous; black holes that rarely give back any light. I'll say it again: beware. (I like that word - especially in the context of this poem's inner, intimate hiss). Fighting with an angel of whatever color - the stuff of poetry that I love!
Top of the line, HG - the way you slipped bitter in among the sweet. I'm glad she's your enemy. But remember old man Corleone's advice?: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer? Well, you must know it well; it's all over and within and through this beauty.
I'm Italian. With friends. If you ever want her whacked...
Lad. Rewarded 8
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Hey, Lad. Glad it's not just me who gets nervous around collectors. I've always found that collectors are either not very bright, or not very sane, or both. For some reason, I find it to be very Miss Havisham of a habit.
"Beware" is very much the tone of this poem. Yes, Don Vito was quite right-- frenemies is the word.
Heh. I'd be tempted to have her whacked. But then, who would draw the focus of my ire?
Luvya,
Pie
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Well, she can't be as good at capturing thought and feeling as you, so she isn't much of a rival. Where she is "copying beautiful phrases and poems, painstakingly in fine inks, amassing expensive journals, with hand-made rice paper and arty covers", you are writing with innate originality. She's no match for you. The last two lines hit you (and her if she reads it) right in the gut. I especially like Lines 36-40. It is hard to choose my favorite lines, but if I had to, the last two lines would be it. The are very, very powerful. Those final lines are stellar. Great job.
Bria
. Rewarded 8
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Hi, Bria. Thank you for the kind words-- she may not be a match for me in poetry, but of course, there was so much more to our anti-relationship. I guess it shows since, years later, I can't get her out of my head!
I am especially pleased you liked the final lines-- I actually considered making them the title instead.
Cheers,
Pie -
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I think the last two lines would be absolutely amazing as a title. I really found them so intensely powerful.
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