In the detox office with the dead woman-
The dead woman sits in quietude in the detox office.
She watches full-on moons that split the city.
It is the green spillages of bloodlicked eyes, that falter in her heart.
Her hand feels inside her pockets for poetic thoughts.
She collects paper clips, post-its, tippex, client records, the devil's advocate in detox dreams.
The dead woman doesn't like games of scissor, papers, stoned.
The blueblack moments are counted-up in her head with strips photographs from rib cages.
On her break she reads Plath and Milligan, in the small hours she reads Bukowski for sass.
She hates stereotyping the junkie, rebel, bagheads.
Her humour can be vapid and vehement in her quest for silence.
The dead woman wants to shut the window.
Second part of the shift with the dead woman-
This woman has made a groove on her hipbone from the constant jangle of keys.
Some say the this woman has healing hands, even though she's dead.
She thinks her hands are small, yet they fold into origami doves.
On tuesdays' she prays to God, as any God will do when the horsemen come.
Elastoplast smiles and wearied pinpricked eyes are healed with a softer voice.
Random poetry is hidden in her bag under the red chair in the office.
She tidies the filing cabinet and leaves sarcastic notes in the message book for all to see.
Was it a man who designed colours of paint and wallpaper for hospitals.
In her mind the emerald nectar has been splattered into the ether to die.
Green is not a colour she likes, grass should be blue-circle according to the woman's guy.
She wants to break the chain on the office window and silently scream to the night.
Author notes
oohhh.. I hope this works..
Written August 31st, 2006
In a list
A contest entry
- Dead Man/ Dead Woman (contest) by zara.
600 points, ended September 10, 2006, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 44 of 44
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yeah... I kinda gave myself away with it really
lolololololol
I'll work on doing some on a more obscure level...
thanks for a great contest... -
This feels like death-in-life - there’s a certain fed-upness about it - the zombified ambience of the night shift, perhaps. It’s a different take on the Dead Woman idea, and I enjoyed it very much. The best image, in my book: “groove on her hipbone from the constant jangle...” This whole poem jangles. There is a groove on my psyche now. Thanks so much for entering.
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I think you read it and said you'd come back.. .. and look, here you are
and thank you darlin
yes, there are so many diverse ones for Z to judge.. I don't envy her task for sure
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I thought I had commented... maybe I read it while I wasn't logged in. I wish I could remember what I thought I had said.
I've told you before what I think of the glimpses of the work part of your world. It applies here as well.
I'm seeing lots of "pockets" lately in poems. Interesting.
A diverse set of poems this contest has drawn out. -
I need to read more of your poetry, Gill. Whenever I do read it, I'm alwaays stsartled by the amazement I feel from your work. I read the contest criteria, had never heard of this form before, and don't know if I'm up to tackling it or not but you've pulled it off wonderfully.... (Hey if nursie can do it, can I?... of course I can but it looks it takes more dedication than I have time for at the moment so think I'll just sit back and reap the enjoyment of the contest entries) And yours I'm enjoying very much
Good luck in the contest
F: Dee -
Excellent poem
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Oh my.
This is the third I've read in this contest and it drew me in immediatley.
these sentences were beautiful.
Good luck!
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no- no S needed as blue circle is a kind of cement.. a bit obscure but i like it that way
the opening phrases are supposed to be there.. to open the parts.. Zara has put some links up of Marvin Bell's stuff for people to look at..
thanks for the critique though
maybe you can enter it too... have a bash, step out of your comfort zone -
hi Gill - thanks for sendiong me the link to this poem. i like the vivid images that you emplyed here; the poem is scattered with startling lines:
She watches full-on moons that split the city.
This woman has made a groove on her hipbone from the constant jangle of keys.
She thinks her hands are small, yet they fold into origami doves.
and it contains some well-observed details:
Was it a man who designed colours of paint and wallpaper for hospitals.
She tidies the filing cabinet and leaves sarcastic notes in the message book for all to see.
i'm not sure the poem starts very well with its unecessary monostiche before the first stanza and before the second stanza, but perhaps that is part of this particular technique.
there seems to be a typo here with the apostrophe:
On tuesday's she prays to God, as any God will do when the horsemen come.
is there an s missing from 'circle' in the line? i know the lines don't have to make sense, but this one doesns't flow as well as the others in the poem.
Green is not a colour she likes, grass should be blue circle according to the woman's guy.
this is an interesting poem to read, worthy of much applause. you obviously know the subject matter very well.
bests wishes in the contest,
myron. -
this was so very deep
so much information
sadness
and grief
i agree hospital walls had to be painted by a man
they should be bright to bring some joy to the sick
and dying
this poem brought alot of memories back to me
great poem
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thanks P.. i worked hard on this piece, so i'm aware of how it sits in me.. and from your response .... i see the same
thank you
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lil' chilly ... i honestly don't think you realize everything you have said in this piece, a simple tale told in a complex oneness dancing common among the few that embrace such a moment at their own ... for a mere second's sight ... one thought ... well done luv
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it is good to smile
I need
- hahahahh
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.. thank you....
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hehehhe.. my comments are getting mucking fuddled this morning..
thankyou Darin, for your kind words and love as always -
oops
that comment below was meant for you... hahahha
i'm up wayyyy too early... blah blah blah -
You're right... I shall play around with it some more.. as i've been editing it somewhat..
thankyou darlin' for your always sound advice..
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oohhh.. I hope this works..
It works on my vision.
Seems similar to my moms job at the county jail.Yes, the keys and locked doors that scream desperation.
This bleeds,it puts us in the corridor,silently watching, waiting for bells.
you bring us into your life and for a short pause we are speechless, then the applause comes.Applause for who you are and what you bring. Peace to you fair lady. -
I agree with all the far wiser notions who've commented so far, I love this.. since it so clearly sets a stage a tone, an arena for lack of a better word, for the drama.. I'd say.. these 'dead' poems demand...
So now to be completely quirky I'm going to say that I ..don't think this needs the last line, as much as I love botheration, and mither mather, I think it detracts from the hard hitting points in the lines above it, the ones that gnaw in all of us.... whether we heal ourselves...or not..
We bandage and bandage until it looks as if the wound is ...looked after, yet often those wounds would do better, to heal from the inside..... out..
Edited on Sep 02 because ''. -
I think you are right on target with this form. As always, your writing is exceptional. The realism is terrific. You really take the reader deep into the soul of the Dead Woman. Great work!
SG
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Intensely great writing, as ever Gill.
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Wunderbar!
Oooh this was nice. I really like this...man, such an oustanding area to place a dead woman. Puts mine to shame most assuredly. Good luck in the contest dear! -
"green spillages of bloodlicked eyes"... that's just grody.
This not only works, it works well. Dead woman may not be you, but this gave me a sense of you. Your non-work poems are always intensely personal, but when dealing with the center, you tend to shift... describing and observing more externally, or giving a more immediate and circumscribed picture. This roamed and delved even through the assertion based format.
I liked truly. -
"The dead woman has made a groove on her hipbone from the constant jangle of keys.
Some say the dead woman has healing hands.
She thinks her hands are small, yet they fold into origami doves."
Incredibly penned, Gill...I, too, could see the ward, feel the words, hear the wind whipping through the open window, bringing storms to bear upon an anguished Soul...I have quite a few friends in various aspects of the medical field; I know you do what you must in order to get through it all...weird humor, pensive silences, all~out cacaphony designed to soothe the nerves somehow...Beautifully raw & vivid descriptions, my Friend...Intense, honest & laden with Truth...Good luck in the contest, Lady...Be well, Poet... Wanda
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Thank you Yvette, I'm so glad you liked it..
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I am blown away by this,it is the first time I have come across this form but am glad to read your example within your poetry.Your descriptions are magnificent,good luck in the contest,love and light,Yvette
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yeah... i agree.. I always have some poetry books in bag for work, especially on night shifts
thanks Red
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Works for me... I've been reading a collection of poetry by Bukowski that was written as he was dying. Talk about depressing, then I switch to my collection of anne sexton. She was wicked! I listen to the audio book on the biography of Moorison and I feel sane. *grin
Red -
I think the Dead Woman needs more vacation time. Some nights where she is out on the town. Some days laying on the beach.
I can see the ward through your eyes.
Jim -
The dead woman wonders if it was a man who designed colours of paint and wallpaper for hospitals.
isnt that appropriate?
>claps -
The last line of the first part is a triffic closure - well yes , but I mean poetically and metaphorically. The images here are to die for (lol) and hey, those hospital colours are all chic now you know.
The dead woman is not you- no, it isn't, you are full of life and bubbles, so stop yer mithering woman
Interesting exercise this. -
Wow, you really let your imagination go with this! Much more effective (I think) than my attempt. Great job, and best of luck to you in the contest.
~J. -
thanks Kat... so glad you liked it
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I will be back but suffice to say for now--
you got my attention!
dead woman talking works for me in ways i can hardly express
the contest is a great one
this is such a dark strong articulate harsh piece
the particulars are resounding
haunting (guess I do like being haunted)
it is such a powerful thing that you weave what you witness
and experience into langauge
kat
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creepy is cool...
lolololol
thanks Lane
oxoxo -
This sort of has a 'creepy coolness' about it, dear Nurse Chilly... Of course, brilliance usually is quirky and rather morbid on some things. Grinning. You know I'm having fun with this, don't you? Thank you for letting me into your world...
Love,
Lane -
thank you so much, for your kind thoughts on this piece
very touching
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wonderful, strong write
this poem is incredible. so much sadness that we see each day can make us numb and dead inside..at least, thats what we tell ourselves in order to get by. the truth is, we hurt for the people that we see just like the dead woman does. this is a wonderful, strong write. -
thanks for the comment.. made me smile
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Somehow I feel a certain apathy with this person. Such underlying depth to the image protrayed. A drawing towards the depths of deep sadness. Wonderful Write.
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People and thanked me for not just clicking off if I don't groove on a particular piece of poetry. Your poem got so "deep" into whatever it is yu are into here, I just couldn't find a map out of the mze. So I commented although it is not a real helpful message. There are strong passages throughout.
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Sad and very noble of you to care.
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thanks for dropping by...
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this was intresting when a friend of mine went to rehab he said that alot went in clean and then turned up dirty then a friend went to detox who was a witness in a murder trial and we thought she was dead or something worse but when i found she was just drunk i wanted to smack her for making me and her man a nervous wreck great write keep doing well
love the papa
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