In the west she'd be locked away

[justcloudy]

She ambles between egg vendors,
football playing screaming boys
and the local station de police.
The chatters and mumbles don’t stop
going from spider to howler in an instant.
She must have been educated once
before the psychosis set in;
her French, accompanied by saliva darts,
is better than mine.

I saw a man offer her bread today.
Hadn't seen her before his arm outstretched,
I guess it's a spider day.
She didn't seem to understand,
maybe she just wasn't hungry.
At first I thought him her caregiver
I've wondered if she has anyone,
but that's just my western brain,
I think. Because then I remember her wiry hair
tied up with that kind of plastic rope
they string figs onto,
shifted backwards onto chopped gray
from its flower power place,
and how there's never a fly too far off.

She is as scenery in this place
and I’m the only one phased
by her accusing stares.

She reminds me of what I am not.

[rowens]

Your first poem was very free flowing, and now they seem almost more condensed than they need to be. Not really condensed, but they have a difficult flow, kind of stiff. But you seem to be getting closer to some kind of balance. And what I'm calling stiff sounding isn't necessarily a bad thing. Whatever is it is, kind of stiff or not, it's on the verge of working for you. And it's getting the subject matter to fit, and what's being said to come off better. You can still struggle more with it if you want.

[justcloudy]

thanks rowens, I appreciate the honesty and I think I see exactly what you mean. haven't found that sweet spot yet. guess the only thing to do is keep practicing. =]
-cloudy

[rowens]

I've seen Goldy and Cloudy, I'm looking forward to Stormy.

[justcloudy]

she exists. but just not here. ;p

[serge gurkski]

I am shocked because you use punctuation. ,-) I like the thick athmosphere of this.
My fav (seriously): "her French, accompanied by saliva darts,
is better than mine."

cheers (no pun intended)

serge

[poeticdancer]

I agree with Rowens that it was stiff, but maybe it should be. Her stares, the way she makes you feel... uneasy, "accused". I would be stiff feeling that way, wouldn't you? I really liked the whole piece. Thanks for sharing it.

[abu nuwas]

You tell the story well - I suppose it might be in all sorts of places, but I see you live in Morocco, and it fit v well. However, that made me cheat a little, as I naturally painted the mendicant in a black outfit, surrounding her with earthy colours, and colours of all kinds. Although in many ways it is v visual, it is visual without colour -- I do not think you give the reader a single colour word.

On the other hand, you have done a fine job on noise -mumbles, chattering, screaming and so on. I think you could make it more taut, but the wit accompanying the sad cameo is good. And we are on the Mild Critique thingy......

[billy]

i think i'd have liked something more than a simple 'she' at the start of the poem but really, i found it an almost excellent read, the tone of the narrator comes across as an outsider viewing a microcosm. apart from the comment about the 2nd line, i only had nits really.

the last line did feel a bit trite, so i'd ask if it's essential to the poem.

i could read more poetry like this without any problems what so ever
thanks for the read.

She ambles between egg vendors,
football playing screaming boys, this feels a little awkward jc. seeing as there's no end rhyme to worry about, a suggestion would be; screaming boys playing football.
and the local station de police. this gives a hint at a place(we know it's not in the west)
The chatters and mumbles don’t stop
going from spider to howler in an instant. this gives it an eastern feel.
She must have been educated once is once needed?
before the psychosis set in;
her French, accompanied by saliva darts, excellent line the image is very crisp.
is better than mine.

I saw a man offer her bread today.
Hadn't seen her before his arm outstretched,
I guess it's a spider day.
She didn't seem to understand,
maybe she just wasn't hungry.
At first I thought him her caregiver
I've wondered if she has anyone,
but that's just my western brain,
I think. Because then I remember her wiry hair
tied up with that kind of plastic rope
they string figs onto,
shifted backwards onto chopped gray
from its flower power place,
and how there's never a fly too far off.

She is as scenery in this place
and I’m the only one phased
by her accusing stares.

She reminds me of what I am not.

[abu nuwas]

Billy ---

''and the local station de police. this gives a hint at a place(we know it's not in the west) ''

Some French-speaking areas are regarded, by the natives at least, as being in the West: Quebec, Belgium, Switzerland, Luxemburg, and, er, the Land of the Cheese-eating Surrender-Monkeys.