I came upon a terrible car crash
twisted metal,
and shattered glass.
Burning rubber invades my senses
it's taking over
too late, it's over.
I realize
it's mine to claim,
my own blood mixing with gasoline.
past and present intertwining.
Someone,
please light a match
we'll watch it burn,
consider it lesson learned.
I can scream,
but they won't hear me.
Emergency,
don't assist, please.
she doesn't want you
to stop the bleeding.
It's okay,
she knows she's dying.
I realize
it's mine to claim,
my own blood mixing with gasoline.
past and present intertwining.
Someone,
please light a match
we'll watch it burn,
consider it lesson learned.
Lights flashing
hues of red and blue retracting,
attempting,
to save her from fate.
But the wreckage, instead
bursts into flames.
I'd have it that way,
I'd like to end it that way.
In ashes and in flames.
Reviews
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I don't know your intentions... but this poem, for me, reads like you, as a spectator to a car crash, rather take a delight in the person dying in the crash instead of saving her, perhaps because of some bitter experience of your own in the past. And the anger towards you, as well as some helpless pity is aroused as you read this poetry. The anger, quite immediate. ANd the pity, building gradually.
The only two lines I don't quite get are:
I can scream,
but they won't hear me.
What do you want to scream??
I wonder if you have written this is as a song. It feels like one. But I could be wrong there.
. Rewarded 8
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HMMMM get the sense this is not realy about a car crash but really about you....maybe a crash of your heart instead.............dunno.........however part of the fun of poetry are the the different interpretations so in an event it is well done.......simple words that i like and can understand....well done1
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Hi, Julia - really nice to see your work again.
I sense the poet, seeing a terrifying car crash, takes its "wreckage" into herself, with all its shattered glass, burning, fumes and blood, then goes on to ponder her own life, how and when it might end. And she wants it to end just this way, "In ashes and in flames." Stong poem for me to experience, loaded with grief and self-awareness.
The structure of the poem, its short and vividly imaged lines, work well, I believe. The whole poem has the feel of a song, with its repeated chorus of the "I realize" stanza. That "I realize" works just right, because it has the connotation of "this wreckage becomes REAL for me; it's not only an outer event, but an inner one, too."
Nicely done, nightengale. Glad you're back.
Lad. Rewarded 8
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Scary but seductive.
I had a head-on collision with a bus years ago, at a time I was very unhappy. Before it happened I said to a friend at lunch - it was raining, bucketing down - that it looked like the end of the world. In retrospect that event was the end of one life and the beginning of another.
I guess that's what you can't know - whether you will snap into wanting to survive when the chips are down, or whether your dream of death will compel you to want the match lit.
A very dark poem, this, written with close attention to detail - I particulalry like the way the narrator switches to the victem and back - for me this is the heart of the thing: do we want to be in that crash, or dooe part of us only think we want to be there? This narrator seems to be sure: but having been through it, I wonder...
Nice one.
Best RA -
S1- I love the double use of "over." Resonates realy well, especially after the bombardment of scary steaming images above.
s2- I too often associate myself with destruction. Maybe elaborate on the beauty/ravaged duality in things like car crashes? Also- love the blood/gasoline.
S3/end- WOW. You really bring it together here. When someone dies in a car crash you expect elegiac mourning, funerals... but no one ever talks about that cathartic value in utter destruction, in simply allowing fate to steamroll you... what it really means, I think, is unity... resignation to the world's intent for you regardless of implications.
Well-written! Hope my reactions can be of some service. :. Rewarded 8
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hey nightengale
pretty morbid but powerful. like a self-destructive slowm-motion fantasy. you-watching yourself die-and you could stop it-but don't want to.
dave. Rewarded 4
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Spectator takes a plunge into herself. It doesn't have to happen to you to feel the impact of it in your blood. Death is the ultimate escape (or so it seems).There seems to be a lot of emotions here. Loss and guilt seem to echo through. I don't know why i sensed that. Maybe its the idea that there is that desire to end in ashes and in flame; despite having learned the lesson. Its almost as if the 'i' had a sudden rush of memories and the past and present intertwining as the smell of rubber takes over. Then there's that 'i' thinking that this is a welcomed death; and death done for the 'i.' All of it a fate that one could not turn away from. And so maybe though as the spectator see physical death, in her blood as its mixes with gasoline; the 'i' finds a different death within. I'm sort of babbling. Sorry for that. Your poem made me think (and that's a good thing). Rich and layered. Very much worth the read.
-iphios. Rewarded 8
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Nice Poem
The last lines are reminding me about Phoenix bird.
Good try
himanshumodi
November 21, 2007
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