third man girl
New Member
Ashlea’s words have prompted me to try and write through one of my female characters’ minds. (This is ‘pre-Bryan’, so don’t blame him for anything!)
The emotions have not been ‘tidied’ as Bryan would have been done; this is straight from ‘the girl’s head’ (written on a scrap of paper, hurriedly, this morning).
I would appreciate critical comparison of my tidied poetry versus the raw.
BTW, the girl is not a poet; I don’t even know if ‘Barefoot’ would be considered a poem. I haven’t studied poetry, don’t even know the definition of the word. Two minutes . . . AH!
“Quick definition: POEM (noun) a composition written in metrical feet forming rhythmical lines.”
Well, there you go. I should have listened in school instead of staring out of the window.
The poem is not pretty, which is why I rated it ‘15’. Piedro, cover your eyes, now.
Barefoot, soundless across the floor
The carpet soft; disturb them not.
The window square, too small
Head, shoulders – push.
Falling, thump.
Listen, wait.
The nightshirt torn –
they will be cross.
Barefoot, cracking over twigs
Which way to run?
Forward? Darkness through the woods,
But darkness, too, from where I’ve come.
Barefoot, bare thighs, pricking, scratching.
The groaning trees; the groaning men.
Run, run . . .
Barefoot. Mud, milking through my toes
The river hissing, calling, boiling –
‘A Serpent’ – warned one.
Barefoot, sliding down the banking
Nightshirt lifting, please, no more –
they’ve had their fun.
Ohh! Icy waters, he was right
The Serpent sucks and coils.
Ice fright; my need to drown.
The nightshirt tugged by seething hands
Naked, thrashing.
Come, please come.
Voices call above the hiss,
The hard men reach me now. Rejoice!
Pulling me from wild, wet waters
Wrapped within their arms.
Strength and comfort all around me.
Punishment, yet to come.
Third Man Girl
The emotions have not been ‘tidied’ as Bryan would have been done; this is straight from ‘the girl’s head’ (written on a scrap of paper, hurriedly, this morning).
I would appreciate critical comparison of my tidied poetry versus the raw.
BTW, the girl is not a poet; I don’t even know if ‘Barefoot’ would be considered a poem. I haven’t studied poetry, don’t even know the definition of the word. Two minutes . . . AH!
“Quick definition: POEM (noun) a composition written in metrical feet forming rhythmical lines.”
Well, there you go. I should have listened in school instead of staring out of the window.
The poem is not pretty, which is why I rated it ‘15’. Piedro, cover your eyes, now.
Barefoot, soundless across the floor
The carpet soft; disturb them not.
The window square, too small
Head, shoulders – push.
Falling, thump.
Listen, wait.
The nightshirt torn –
they will be cross.
Barefoot, cracking over twigs
Which way to run?
Forward? Darkness through the woods,
But darkness, too, from where I’ve come.
Barefoot, bare thighs, pricking, scratching.
The groaning trees; the groaning men.
Run, run . . .
Barefoot. Mud, milking through my toes
The river hissing, calling, boiling –
‘A Serpent’ – warned one.
Barefoot, sliding down the banking
Nightshirt lifting, please, no more –
they’ve had their fun.
Ohh! Icy waters, he was right
The Serpent sucks and coils.
Ice fright; my need to drown.
The nightshirt tugged by seething hands
Naked, thrashing.
Come, please come.
Voices call above the hiss,
The hard men reach me now. Rejoice!
Pulling me from wild, wet waters
Wrapped within their arms.
Strength and comfort all around me.
Punishment, yet to come.
Third Man Girl
