Just as a way of explanation, the previous post, Erato, is a prose poem I wrote for workshopping in my creative writing class. It isn't a confessional in any way. I'm not a bad person. Duck Farts and Redheaded Sluts are alcoholic beverages--I know this from Open Mic Night at the bar in McCarthy, Alaska which serves as the community gathering place for all the 30 residents and 50 or so tourists. Also, Erato is the Greek Muse of lyric poetry.
Anyway, Erato wasn't the best of my poems that I submitted. I thought it was, but everybody seemed to like this one the best.
Wolves
There is a story here. Among the scattered bones and cloying stench of death. The mossy forest floor is a sick yellow underneath a newer carpet of loose hair and bits of decaying flesh. Several fist sized saplings in the area are snapped off, almost waist high. Their remains lie trampled into the moss. He died fighting, this one. A lower jaw bone and a hip socket lie close together. Evidence. A caribou, or a light colored moose. It’s hard to tell without the rest of the skull. There is no need to search for the killer. Just outside the swath of death lie numerous piles of hair-filled feces. Enough to show that a good sized pack of wolves gorged themselves for a day or so.
I wonder, if this was a man, would I stand here so calm among his rotting remains, piecing together the clues of his demise?
I actually didn't really like the way this one turned out.
For all of my readers out there, I am interested in your opinion. Both poems are still in rough draft form, so present me with your thoughts. Which do you like better? What do you like or dislike about these poems? And do you have any suggestions for improvement? Feel free to comment harshly if that is your desire. Thanks!
2 comments:
I like the wolves one, actually. There's something grotesquely beautiful in your description of the scene. I think it works better because it's one scene, one idea, one moment in time. There's great power in such focus.
The Erato one was decent, had some good details. I'd say the "redheaded slut" and "duck farts" were a little jarring, stuck out from the rest of the language, especially since I didn't know they were drinks. I liked the bit about gothic lipstick. Overall, I'd say the hard thing about writing about a muse romantically is that you've got to breath new life into a concept as old as Greek myth. It's a good metaphor, which is why it has lasted so long, but it needs a new turn, a new trick, I think.
Those're my two cents.
Thanks for your thoughts.
Yeah, I agree about Erato, it doesn't bring anything new to the table. But I still liked it the best when I wrote it.
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