Got It Good

[Leanne]

When spring came that year, we joined hands
in a ring-a-rosy dervish; I
giggling, you wondering how.
I only notice now, from your Kodak blush,
that the push of the crowd made you cower
as you thrust your pigtailed prettiness before you:
gold, like Maccabee’s shield.

We played pat-a-cake in the summer,
cross-legged on concrete like beggars.
You envied me my knees
free of daubed mercurochrome;
my home, too poor for even a coat of dust,
but just a pocket full of seeds,
not a coffin of secrets.

I saw you flinch and twist
as your wrist cracked under his hand.
Leaves fell without pause
and you did not break their silence,
nor I.

The autumn and I awoke
to you: broken in the first snow,
golden eagles spread saintly
about your head.

[Aish]

When spring came that year, we joined hands
in a ring-a-rosy dervish; I
giggling, you wondering how.
I only notice now, from your Kodak blush,
that the push of the crowd made you cower
as you thrust your pigtailed prettiness before you:
gold, like Maccabee’s shield.

We played pat-a-cake in the summer,
cross-legged on concrete like beggars.
You envied me my knees
free of daubed mercurochrome;
my home, too poor for even a coat of dust,
but just a pocket full of seeds,
not a coffin of secrets.

I saw you flinch and twist
as your wrist cracked under his hand.
Leaves fell without pause
and you did not break their silence,
nor I.

The autumn and I awoke
to you: broken in the first snow,
golden eagles spread saintly
about your head.

Oh, this is poignant and beautiful. "Kodak blush" is clever! I love "gold, like Maccabees shield", interesting apocryphal image of heroes battling tyranny. Your choices are adept, I can see the little girls and feel the pain of abusive secrets. The monkeyblood on scraped knees is quite clever, too, it is so concrete and anchors in the crystallization of childhood.

The weaving of seasons is interesting to me, as it hints at aging as well as climate changes." The autumn and I awoke
to you: broken in the first snow,
golden eagles spread saintly
about your head." Are the golden eagles a reference to the struggle between good and evil? It gave me the impression your friend was killed by her abuser.

[Leanne]

I think that death is pretty much what I was trying to convey, Aish -- it is, fortunately, a fiction. The golden eagles are a reference back to Maccabee's shield, which is also the shield found by Gawain in Arthurian legend -- so yes, good and evil is apt.

Thank you for your kind comment.

[billy]

When spring came that year, we joined hands
in a ring-a-rosy dervish; I
giggling, you wondering how.
I only notice now, from your Kodak blush,
that the push of the crowd made you cower nice internal rhythm with blush, push
as you thrust your pigtailed prettiness before you:
gold, like Maccabee’s shield. gold works but for some reason i keep wanting to read 'golden' (though i know the shield was gold)

We played pat-a-cake in the summer,
cross-legged on concrete like beggars.
You envied me my knees
free of daubed mercurochrome;
my home, too poor for even a coat of dust,
but just a pocket full of seeds,
not a coffin of secrets.

I saw you flinch and twist
as your wrist cracked under his hand.
Leaves fell without pause
and you did not break their silence,
nor I.

The autumn and I awoke
to you: broken in the first snow,
golden eagles spread saintly
about your head.

the last verse is the one which breaks the kneecaps.
the poem has a great sense of violence and fear though both are only mentioned in passing. the sadness also shows through. not sure i have any constructive feedback bar the gold/golden nit.

i like the macabees shield thing you had going on, the 1st person in the poem obviously remembers a lesson from sunday school or religious education class. i also like the fleeting friendship which lasted but 9 months or so. i think it a well crafted poem.

thanks for the read

[Leanne]

Thanks Billy -- since I use golden in the last stanza, it seems redundant to use it in the first as well, plus it wouldn't fit into the rhythm I have stuck in my head, but that's only in my head and not yours so I can understand the dilemma

Many thanks for your comment.

[billy]

Thanks Billy -- since I use golden in the last stanza, it seems redundant to use it in the first as well, plus it wouldn't fit into the rhythm I have stuck in my head, but that's only in my head and not yours so I can understand the dilemma

Many thanks for your comment.

me bad, i read the golden eagles line as eagles without the 'golden'. i actually went through the poem a good few times as well. it does go to show that not all feedback is good feedback and that those giving it are just as prone to miss things as the one who writes the poem is. sorry

[Leanne]

That's not true. All feedback is welcome, even if it's disagreed with -- it makes me check and make sure I did what I did because it should have been done

[billy]

fair enough but what i'm saying is, it isn't only poets who get it wrong

[addy]

Wow, I love this. Fictional or not, there's a beauty and scale to the words (reference to Arthurian legend and the seasons) that lends an immortality to the narrative, as only children can manage in that period when we were innocent and passionate and honorable.

When spring came that year, we joined hands love this as a lead-in and a summary
in a ring-a-rosy dervish; I
giggling, you wondering how.
I only notice now, from your Kodak blush,
that the push of the crowd made you cower
as you thrust your pigtailed prettiness before you:
gold, like Maccabee’s shield.

We played pat-a-cake in the summer, Like your use of the differing games to chronicle the change in the relationship
cross-legged on concrete like beggars.
You envied me my knees
free of daubed mercurochrome;
my home, too poor for even a coat of dust, very nice
but just a pocket full of seeds,
not a coffin of secrets.

I saw you flinch and twist
as your wrist cracked under his hand.
Leaves fell without pause
and you did not break their silence,
nor I. I love the power of this part, the conviction. There's a cinematic movement to it that also transitions well to the next stanza

The autumn and I awoke
to you: broken in the first snow,
golden eagles spread saintly
about your head. Heartbreaking, and it's great how you turned the image of pigtails on its head, making it a mark of nobility here