This Poem was Submitted By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-04-21 20:33:41 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Diamond Life
In the midst of all the confusion was Henry,
Frolicking beneath the skirts in a faux coma.
Such is the life of a resurrected personality disorder.
We traded baseball cards for awhile. Aaron for Killebrew,
Mays for Wills, Yogi for Mickey, and John for Luke.
He liked the solid ways of the pin-striped gang.
I pointed out the monetary issues. We drank
Fourteen-year-old Old Grandad and gauged our distance
From the mother star. He tanned well for the time of day.
Plots of old movies. What was Hemmingway doing in Spain?
He was certain it had to do with drinking.
Disillusioned, we burned the lot.
Henry played centerfield while I pitched.
He was busy out there. Kind of, anyway.
A large flock of blackbirds heckled him.
I thought of how softly she walked away.
Such is the life of stars.
Blinking and distantly twinkling.
Mark my words.
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Copyright © April 2005 Thomas Edward Wright
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2005-05-05 10:43:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Do not go gentle into that good green grass of home (plate).
Thanks for the Hemingway (one m) allusions - the baseball, Spain, booze. You've omitted the great DiMaggio, but I forgive you that.
If you read L2 very fast, several times, aloud ... well, you'd be amazed at what might come out!
Love the images of faux coma, resurrected personality disorder, the mother star. Burning the cards is a kind of stellar incendiary thing, I think. A lot of things turn to ash when personalities dissociate from their owners. They rise from the cinders, totally changed. Henry may be a phoenix who can't fly very well, though. He can't really cut it in centefield.
A large flock of blackbirds heckled him.
I thought of how softly she walked away.
"She" is intriguing. I'm thinking the mother star -- the original lode -- the font of all sanity. We lose touch and then people call us mad. Those heckling blackbirds sound like Santiago's sharks, always picking at what's left.
Around here, Mary is often represented by a yellow star on a blue background, the Acadian star of the sea. And of course, she is the Mother to end all mothers. Probably irrelevant to the context but worth a mention.
Such is the life of stars.
Blinking and distantly twinkling.
Mark my words.
The stars may be mirrors of us, or we of them. There's an erratic beauty in such things, and even in us, crazy though we may be. One star is "like a diamond in the sky" -- a heavenly baseball field. Maybe you've gotta be dead, or at least removed from the real world, to play that game well.
"Mark my words" could be directly addressed to the reader, or even a message from the speaker to himself. I'm not sure you actually need that line, though. Ending on the star images might be stronger. Your call!
Another great read. This Henry guy is fast becoming addictive.
Brenda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Helen C DOWNEY On Date: 2005-05-01 07:58:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.68293
Thomas,
Great flow of words that make the reader want to read on. I especially like the wording you have chosen;
'Mays for Wills', 'Yogi for Mickey'. Those were eye catchers! The last few lines really sum up your piece to perfection. Glad you posted this winner.
Helen
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-04-24 14:18:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.36364
Thomas,
Pretty nice!
Your friend with a personality disorder.
I love your acceptance of him. No judgment. No wrong.
It was poignant.
Playing ball and heckled by blackbirds, and 'she walked softly away.
The blackbirds almost as people.
You seemed so gentle with him, how admirable.
Such is the life of every person/star.
I believe your word.
How great to have your friendship.
Hemingway was a big drinker, my friend met him at a bar in Cuba!
It never affected his writing. [of course everything affects everything else]
My best,
Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-04-22 11:44:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I wake up in the morning and find these coins on the floor, see. And the ceiling has no ho(les). And the mailman has not yet arrived. Anyway, I wake up and I'm in a papal conclave, or in a barroom poker game, with "Henry" - no idea how I got here. Poe, Mays, Mantle, Yogi. I need a Britannica. No. You need a Britannica. I need several drinks, some brain food, and even more irreverence than I have. Which is hard to imagine.
The concernancy? The internet. Ah. Horatio the younger. Ah. The human imagination. Ah.
I won't even try to keep up with you.
Pius XIII
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-04-22 09:03:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Diamond Life
really great retrospective with just the wright touch
In the midst of all the confusion was Henry,
Frolicking beneath the skirts in a faux coma.
Such is the life of a resurrected personality disorder.
.....This is another henry - one I don't know - no berryman alter ego
no railroad man...no defacer of declarations...a childhood mischeviou
henry that i already want to slap
We traded baseball cards for awhile. Aaron for Killebrew,
Mays for Wills, Yogi for Mickey, and John for Luke.
Luke for Mathhew?
He liked the solid ways of the pin-striped gang.
I pointed out the monetary issues. We drank
Fourteen-year-old Old Grandad and gauged our distance
From the mother star. He tanned well for the time of day.
the mother star did? wowo talk about your odd phenomenon
What was Hemmingway doing in Spain?
Stayin' out of the way of the bullets in the Spanish Civil war -
staying alive so he could write about it - but at least he was on the
right side - 'gainst franco and his fascist merrymen.
He was certain it had to do with drinking.
year, but he was ernest about it. [sorry]
Disillusioned, we burned the lot.
damn --they would have been worth a fortune
Henry played centerfield while I pitched.
He was busy out there. Kind of, anyway.
A large flock of blackbirds heckled him.
I thought of how softly she walked away.
ahhhhhhhh lovely
Such is the life of stars.
Blinking and distantly twinkling.
Mark my words.
Okay, but why is it always about Mark? What am I chopped liver?
Rachel - way out in left field
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