This Poem was Submitted By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2010-01-17 16:43:08 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Once Upon His Desuetude Rode He Into Town

"It tusks the white elephant."                       MSS (I said "no") I had a mink jacket once.  I lost it in a poker game to that little spastic dwarf. One night a long time ago - it was fall, it was cold - Were we not drinking from that thing - he called it a Ciborium -  A Gold Ciborium - yes, a shiny gold Ciborium - (just look it up). Weren't we drinking Black & White Russians, Dwarf? (he said "yes") We had an old elephant in the room with us. We had a million ideas but no money. I grabbed a tusk and stirred mine White with energy, toasted the midget.  When he laid down a full house - Three Ghosts and a pair of Whores - He cupped his ego in both hands and took a cab across town. (He looks like a bag lady in it as he struts the dark streets,           His white can tapping the heads of toads as he goes.) Now he's a card shark with a mink jacket. The midget left me no choice but to chase him down. So now I'm back that he might deal another hand. Is this the real deal?  Where's that Ciborium? Ask the dwarf. Ask him twice, Twice upon a time. If I'd had two pair of Aces The dwarf would never have sulked away  With his shiny dice cup. The white elephant (who) has no tusk. Ask him why. I had a mink jacket. He's got it now. Deal the cards, dwarf. (Having said "he said that," he said all that and more, but this much I remember: He is waiting for you with the carpet, at the door, with a light.) You can guess the rest.

Copyright © January 2010 Thomas Edward Wright

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2010-02-05 13:10:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
i rage rage rage at the carpet and the light/ and envy of the talent of t e wright. i found the dwarf asleep in my arbor, the mink is tattered from being pierced with the white tusk. we played password.

This Poem was Critiqued By: cheyenne smyth On Date: 2010-01-18 15:35:09
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hello Thomas, I find this piece to be very intriguing, both in style and language. There are so many ways to write free verse (which at one time I use to do a lot of) that is until I discovered I could actully rhyme. Yes I did have to look up "Ciborium." The word appears on the surface to be more complicated in meaning. So now our protagonist has lost his mink jacket to a Midget? A very clever and interesting notion. Well done. Best, cheyenne
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2010-01-18 09:42:17
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90000
Well, Thomas, a good excursion into intellectual frivolity, its own most astute slam at redundance. Although apparent influences from the better modern poets abound, yours is a unique and interesting poem. The underlying play, "tusking the white elephant"...who, "has no tusk", like a current through passage is not missed...nor the more obvious euphemisms for life trying to grasp at any significance of being. So you know of the "dwarf", the doorman between two worlds, adding significance to any ceremony context implied by your use of "Ciborium". This interdimensional depth and the game of chance you play, bested by, "Three Ghosts and a pair of whores" is, by no accident I wager, stark symbolism. And from another work of stark symbolism, Twin Peaks Fire Walk With Me, do you know why the FBI assistant director, when sending his agent into the field at the airport, uses his own daughter to mimic and sign his directions? A different form of "tusking"?, something very real and close to home. Enjoyed your colorful and provoking poem very much and welcome to our contest. You're off to a good start. And glad you've shaken off the dust ("Desuetude".) JCH
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2010-01-18 05:40:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
TEW He's a pimp? I think he overcharged. Either that or you overplayed your hand. MAH
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2010-01-17 17:01:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
TEW, Word can't express how good it is to have you back here. Things have changed. We're trimmer, leaner . . . we have less body fat now. Everyone still standing here appreciates your talent, and you won't have to put up with crap anymore. You can sniff and sniff and sniff and I defy you to find a pile in any corner of this place now. Speaking of now, as to this poem . . . I liked that line. I vaguely remember it, but would have to look up the poem. I probably burned it and cast it off into space . . . or it's buried at the plume. My treasure island. Desuetude? Ciborium? I hate it when you take up your axe against the ancient faith. I can feel my spine going to shivers. It was nice to appear with you in a segment of Twin Peaks. If only we had a script . . . we could have been sumthin'. Contenders even. MSS
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