Sunday, July 08, 2007
Monday Poetry Train: Home
By popular demand, Roadie Poet returns:
Home.
It's hard to sleep.
The bed's still.
Doesn't vibrate like the bus does
There's no motor noise
Snoring
Farting
Sleeping going on
Behind vinyl curtains
That hide faces
Bodies
Friends
But nothing more.
Home
is Mom's place
The apartment where we've lived
Since I was a kid.
My cross-country trophies are here
And my FBLA shit
From the days
when Mom hoped
I'd be something more
Than just a roadie.
My bag's still packed
I'm ready to go
As soon as that call comes.
They said any day.
Go home.
Wait.
A week, at most.
Two days, more likely.
And then I can have a new bunk
Hopefully on the top
Middle's okay.
Bottom sucks.
My bed'll vibrate
No quarter needed
And once again,
I'll sleep like a baby.
Ring,
Phone.
Ring.
Here is Roadie Poet's debut, in case you missed it.
Hope you're all reading for the Summer's Hidden Treasures Contest, and that those of you nutty enough to Sweat for Seven are doing nicely. Me, I'm working on some edits that ought to lead to no good...
Home.
It's hard to sleep.
The bed's still.
Doesn't vibrate like the bus does
There's no motor noise
Snoring
Farting
Sleeping going on
Behind vinyl curtains
That hide faces
Bodies
Friends
But nothing more.
Home
is Mom's place
The apartment where we've lived
Since I was a kid.
My cross-country trophies are here
And my FBLA shit
From the days
when Mom hoped
I'd be something more
Than just a roadie.
My bag's still packed
I'm ready to go
As soon as that call comes.
They said any day.
Go home.
Wait.
A week, at most.
Two days, more likely.
And then I can have a new bunk
Hopefully on the top
Middle's okay.
Bottom sucks.
My bed'll vibrate
No quarter needed
And once again,
I'll sleep like a baby.
Ring,
Phone.
Ring.
Here is Roadie Poet's debut, in case you missed it.
Hope you're all reading for the Summer's Hidden Treasures Contest, and that those of you nutty enough to Sweat for Seven are doing nicely. Me, I'm working on some edits that ought to lead to no good...
Labels: home, poem, Poetry Train, Roadie Poet
Comments:
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great poem. I'm doing the 70 day sweat, so far so good (I should be able to say that it's only day 1 *g*).
Hmm, that's interesting. I was reading the Roadie as a guy. I'm liking the Roadie, Susan! Another good one. Such a strong voice, I immediately connect with this person.
I especially like both the beginning and the end:
"Home.
It's hard to sleep.
The bed's still."
and "Ring,
Phone.
Ring."
I like the short, compact thoughts of the narrator. His old cross-country trophies, his craving for another gig on the road, his no-frills musings give me an image of someone who needs to be doing something at all times or he'll fold. Thanks for giving us another Roadie poem.
I especially like both the beginning and the end:
"Home.
It's hard to sleep.
The bed's still."
and "Ring,
Phone.
Ring."
I like the short, compact thoughts of the narrator. His old cross-country trophies, his craving for another gig on the road, his no-frills musings give me an image of someone who needs to be doing something at all times or he'll fold. Thanks for giving us another Roadie poem.
I agree with Julia that Roadie has a strong voice. My initial reading of this poem suggested rawness and an almost abruptness in the language. My second reading allowed me to see that the language reflects the voice of the character and your choice of repeated single lines hints at the quickness of Roadies life and thoughts.
Yes that is only my opinion. However, it is my opinion that allows me to like a poem or not - this one I do. Thank you for sharing.
Yes that is only my opinion. However, it is my opinion that allows me to like a poem or not - this one I do. Thank you for sharing.
Ms. West of Mars,
May anyone contribute a poem?
If so, here is one
Hole Maker
Dear Diary,
November 25, 1996
An aching heart
empty of life
void of feeling
small glimmers of light,
but they aren't meant for me
no, not for me
Only happy people allowed
even if the grin is pasted on
glued in place
What happens when the grin is gone
what will I do without it
I can't find it anywhere
Once again, she lashes out
all faults are mine
why? How can she manipulate me like that
Something is wrong
I never should have given her my heart
So in reality, the fault IS mine
Like a sinking ship, with only a bucket to slog away the deathly waters
anchored into an existence with no escape
you can't sail away, you can't mend the holes
Afterall, how do you mend holes that you don't make
the patches never fit
the holes are still there
she sees the holes
pretends they aren't there
tells me I'm crazy, there aren't any holes
then she picks up the bludgeoning words
and makes a few more
points at them
Look, you made another hole
What's wrong with you
she says
you'll ruin us all,
making holes like that,
better grab that bucket, try to bail us all out
Hole Maker
unreliable, she says
Hole Maker
can't depend on you for anything, she says
Hole Maker
the silent tears unanswered
filling the ship evermore
there must be another bucket
somewhere
somehow
May anyone contribute a poem?
If so, here is one
Hole Maker
Dear Diary,
November 25, 1996
An aching heart
empty of life
void of feeling
small glimmers of light,
but they aren't meant for me
no, not for me
Only happy people allowed
even if the grin is pasted on
glued in place
What happens when the grin is gone
what will I do without it
I can't find it anywhere
Once again, she lashes out
all faults are mine
why? How can she manipulate me like that
Something is wrong
I never should have given her my heart
So in reality, the fault IS mine
Like a sinking ship, with only a bucket to slog away the deathly waters
anchored into an existence with no escape
you can't sail away, you can't mend the holes
Afterall, how do you mend holes that you don't make
the patches never fit
the holes are still there
she sees the holes
pretends they aren't there
tells me I'm crazy, there aren't any holes
then she picks up the bludgeoning words
and makes a few more
points at them
Look, you made another hole
What's wrong with you
she says
you'll ruin us all,
making holes like that,
better grab that bucket, try to bail us all out
Hole Maker
unreliable, she says
Hole Maker
can't depend on you for anything, she says
Hole Maker
the silent tears unanswered
filling the ship evermore
there must be another bucket
somewhere
somehow
# posted by 
: July 09, 2007 1:31 AM
: July 09, 2007 1:31 AM
Figures, Rhet. The one week I forget the link to Rhi's joint, someone needs it.
I'll leave the link at your place. This is too nice to not be an official part of the train!
I'll leave the link at your place. This is too nice to not be an official part of the train!
the part where he returns 'home' to where his mother hangs on to all the symbols of the future she once hoped for him. but he is not 'at home' enough there to even sleep.
my poem is about the source of inspiration--again! there is something about that theme that brings out the poet in me i guess.
my poem is about the source of inspiration--again! there is something about that theme that brings out the poet in me i guess.
Wow, Susan. RP does a wonderful job of describing what the life of a roadie would be like, plus how hard it would be off the road.
Roadie rocks!! And I love anyone who puts the word 'fart' in their poetry, lol.
Great poem, Sus,
anna j evans
Great poem, Sus,
anna j evans
That part about home really resonates. My bedroom in the home I grew up in had all my books and my varsity letters and awards. Then in college my folks moved to Calfornia. Home has always been where my parents are especially since I live overseas. But it's never been the same now that my room is no longer around.
You really touched a chord. Thanks.
You really touched a chord. Thanks.
# posted by : July 09, 2007 9:28 AM
: July 09, 2007 9:28 AM
Thank you, but it is a tad personal and for your little group only
# posted by : July 09, 2007 10:46 AM
: July 09, 2007 10:46 AM
funny poem, love the line about the bed not vibrating like the bus, which reminds me of hotels we stayed in when I was on the debate team in high school--I think we broke more than one vibrating bed as a dozen or more of us would pile on for the ride.
I'll try to get my book review up tomorrow, now I have to figure out what your challenge is all about...
I'll try to get my book review up tomorrow, now I have to figure out what your challenge is all about...
I'd forgotten they had FBLA in school. Guys voice, I thought, although not so much it couldn't morph into a girl of fewer words, I mean she is hanging around a bunch of guys.
My bed'll vibrate
No quarter needed
And once again,
I'll sleep like a baby.
HAHAH! I'm so having visions of bad motels with scratchy porn and a vibrating bed with a stack of quarters beside it
No quarter needed
And once again,
I'll sleep like a baby.
HAHAH! I'm so having visions of bad motels with scratchy porn and a vibrating bed with a stack of quarters beside it
Waxing poetic about farting. Something very down-to-earth about that. ;)
Uh, RP better be a guy. I can't imagine many women that miss the sounds of farts to fall to sleep by.
I could be wrong.
Uh, RP better be a guy. I can't imagine many women that miss the sounds of farts to fall to sleep by.
I could be wrong.
Good call, Lisa.
Marci: Future Business Leaders of America. Otherwise known as the Alex P. Keatons. (did I just date myself?)
Marci: Future Business Leaders of America. Otherwise known as the Alex P. Keatons. (did I just date myself?)
Even in high school, this guy was a team player, doing his job for the good of the team. I am seeing him in loose jeans, black tshirt and pecs..probably shouldn't have read Lisa's first.
I like the comparisons between home and the bus.
I like the comparisons between home and the bus.
Nice manly voice. I agree, I always pictured Roadie as a man.
Although that's kind of sexist of me ... there were plenty girl roadies at the Gwen Stefani concert.
Although that's kind of sexist of me ... there were plenty girl roadies at the Gwen Stefani concert.
Roadie Poet is awesome. Hehehe :) The jiggling bed would rock anyone to sleep... or would it *wink*? :)
Happy Monday to you!
Cheers.
Happy Monday to you!
Cheers.
What a great voice for Roadie Poet! I loved it right from the opening:
It's hard to sleep
The bed's still
Doesn't vibrate like the bus does
Gives us a lot of insight into Roadie Poet, his/her concept of "home." He/she is a true nomadic spirit, though he/she is paradoxically wistful when it comes to the concept of "roots".
And ya know what, my friend, I picture RP as a girl!
It's hard to sleep
The bed's still
Doesn't vibrate like the bus does
Gives us a lot of insight into Roadie Poet, his/her concept of "home." He/she is a true nomadic spirit, though he/she is paradoxically wistful when it comes to the concept of "roots".
And ya know what, my friend, I picture RP as a girl!
# posted by : July 09, 2007 9:25 PM
: July 09, 2007 9:25 PM
Oops! I forgot it was Monday! Well, next week.
I was wondering if RP was a guy or girl, too.
I'll email you soon with that info! I'm sorry I'm so slow.
I was wondering if RP was a guy or girl, too.
I'll email you soon with that info! I'm sorry I'm so slow.
Hi Susan
I wanted to say that I got your book package today - thank you so much! Although I'm a big fantasy fan I am not very well-read in science fiction, but just a few weeks ago I was thinking I wanted to start exploring the genre, so the books you picked will be perfect. Thank you!
Also, I agree with everyone else - great poem.
I wanted to say that I got your book package today - thank you so much! Although I'm a big fantasy fan I am not very well-read in science fiction, but just a few weeks ago I was thinking I wanted to start exploring the genre, so the books you picked will be perfect. Thank you!
Also, I agree with everyone else - great poem.
Hello, Michele sent me: interesting poem! But others got to the parts I'd comment on more cogently. And more to the point, first!
N.
N.
Erm...
Ah...
It's Tuesday now in the Canadas.
What happens here on Tuesdays?
Ah...
It's Tuesday now in the Canadas.
What happens here on Tuesdays?
# posted by : July 10, 2007 12:44 PM
: July 10, 2007 12:44 PM
Aha! Alex P. Keaton - we're of the same generation, then! (But we knew that right?)
I guess my high school was behind the times - we only had FFA and FHA. Neither of which I grew up to be.
I guess my high school was behind the times - we only had FFA and FHA. Neither of which I grew up to be.
Well done. I like this voice. Simple but elegant. And real.
Michele sent me today; I'm going to thank her now.
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Michele sent me today; I'm going to thank her now.
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