- Home
- broken
Tag: broken
Inarticularity
Inarticularity
The cat’s got my tongue
I gave it to her
It was giving me gip
Didn’t need it no more
Wrenched it plain out
With an oven glove and skewer
The hollow feels warm
Like some exotic liqueur
I’m feeling so peaceful,
A skinny–girl Buddha
The thoughts have closed down
Each breath is a prayer
Inarticularity 2
Words had failed me for too long. When they did come out they
were frayed and worn, run down and faded. I met a woman in a park
once, and she told me that this was the 2nd day in 6 years that
she’d spoken. She said it was okay at first, got harder in the
middle — then people just forgot about her, which was what she
wanted, I guess. She was a broken woman, trying to mind her
tongue, and instead she got to hold it for a while. She still
looked a little crazy to me, but what did I know, shiksa from the
suburbs that I am.
And down the line a little, now I get it. And even though the
squeaking wheel gets all the grease, it doesn’t matter — like I
need more grease. So I let all of them fly, and off they landed,
to cause earth tremors in Guatemala.
In the beginning, my rib cage strained with the weight of all the
things unsaid, but soon, and amazingly, speaking stopped being
something I didn’t do and silence became something I did. I could
hear the softness of my internal hum and that was enough. Maybe
I’ll return to words, like the lady in the park. But maybe I’ll
learn a new language and I’ll live as free as my tongue.
Lisa D'Onofrio
Poet's comment: Two poems inspired by Bronwen's piece, Broken. The first is more traditional, a black look at being silenced, with the narrator paradoxically taking control by giving up with communication. The second is an extension of the theme, using a similiar style to Basketcases 1 and 2. Bronwen's piece made me think about 'scratching' i.e. scratching the surface, which led to records and being recorded, which led to voice.
Brekinupbrokendown
For Lisa's poem: brekin/up/broken/down
brekin/up/broken/down
rarelynowiimaginsomethinin
bedwithme,sumbeingthatlies
bymysideitswarmbellybeating
thrumystrainedskinchestbehind
thehollowofmine,foldinmeup
insoftsparrowwings
singingoverandoveritwont
happenagain.
Lisa D'Onofrio
A breaking echo
I had a good friend once
a friend once
but he kept following me around
following me around
like an echo
an echo
so
so
I told him to his face
lovely face
Why do you keep following my words
following my words
like an echo
an echo
Look, if this doesn't stop
doesn't stop
we will be friends no more
friends evermore
It didn't stop
stop
so
so
I began following him around
following me around
following him around
following me around
like an echo
an echo
echo
echo
echo
echo
O
O
O
O
O
O
O
Rupert Mallin
As good as
it was a week a
GO
that I broke
HER
Dalton tea p o
t
HAND
le
& I glued the p o
t
to
get
her
& now it is
as good as n e
w
as good as
Rupert Mallin
Made up broken
if we row we qui
ckly make up & making
up is the best part of our relation
ship & our argu
ments are but preludes to making
up & sometimes we argue over no
thing just to make
up, though once we nearly did break
up because she broke an orna
mental vase – so we could arg
ue to make up – but I had a senti
mental attachment to the vase,
for it was a gift from my
MUM
MUM
MUM
MUM
MUM
MUM
yet I knew we would make
up & I keep all the frag
ments to remind my
self what true
love is:
a vase
Rupert Mallin
Made up poem
With brush, pencil and stick her poem makes an appearance:
a made up, out of bed, out of the shower, out there poem;
an eye–lined, lip lush, highlighted bright poem;
a 'go to work on a poem' kind of poem;
a made up poem.
With cream, tissue and water her poem makes an appearance:
an indoor, into the shower, into her bed poem;
a red–eyed, lip cracked, pasty poem;
a "real me" poem;
a broken poem.
Tossing, turning, sweating her poem makes an appearance:
the boat of her life is ever sinking
& family & friends always knew she had pulled the
plug
& her favourite brush is matted with hair
& try as she does she can't pull this terrible poem
from its teeth, from her appearance, but...
With brush, pencil and stick her poem makes an appearance:
A made up, out of bed, out of the shower, out there poem;
an eye–lined, lip lush, highlighted bright poem;
a 'go to work on a poem' kind of poem;
A lady luck club loving poem;
A made up poem
Rupert Mallin