Poetry Forum

“I’ll bludgeon you from head to toe you giblet head,
and, fuck, I swear I will wring tree rings on your neck,
and you go tell them how I made a young man thirty,
while I beat you gently, breathing whisky down your nape.”

“I promise you—
That I won’t miss a beat.
I’ll tell them the whole tale,
and wring out sobs behind my fully buttoned collar.
But you, I don’t know how I could forget.
Of course I’ll render you,
as a hair knuckled oaf
inside a cluttered cottage like a brimming alcoholic bull,
or a seething cauldron of emotions.
Oh, and then I’ll have to tell them that I made it up.”

Hey Brownlie-

Don't forget to make up parts about romping waltzes, and ears scrapping buckles, and countenances that can't unfrown themselves.

I don't know that I'd want to be an aspiring Roethke. Because, of course, he's dead.

... Mark

(07-27-2015, 12:12 PM)Mark A Becker Wrote: [ -> ]Hey Brownlie-

Don't forget to make up parts about romping waltzes, and ears scrapping buckles, and countenances that can't unfrown themselves.  

I don't know that I'd want to be an aspiring Roethke.  Because, of course, he's dead.

... Mark

Well, I suppose it's a good thing i'm not the speaker. Roethke is a good writer who is often anthologized in creative writing textbooks.  This doesn't have some of those enduring images because it's sub par.