The Ageist Elderly Man with no Arms in the Parked Car

[Ganman]

I'm getting ready to submit some poems, and I'm on the fence about this one:

The Ageist Elderly Man with No Arms in the Parked Car

My author abandoned me,
an armless old man trapped
in a parked car
on a winter morning.

He left me to stew
in his frozen Sedan
while he searched the store
for Swedish meatballs.

I was written with no personality,
flat, no redeeming character traits,
and I can only solicit help
by yelling at passing children,

ignorant, with their Internet,
lazy, letting technology
cook their food,
pregnant at thirteen.

The girls dress like prostitutes,
showing leg and midriff alike,
waving hello with their cleavage.
Women in my day were refined.

The boys lack a shred of respect
for an elderly gentleman like me.
They make jokes at my expense,
mocking my age, downplaying my experience.

I didn’t witness the wheel’s creation.
I didn’t bring fire down from Olympus.
I never hunted a dinosaur,
and I never met President Jackson.

They’re throwing gravel at my window now,
spitting at me through the glass,
displaying their hindquarters.
I think the author wrote them flat too.

I don’t deserve this.
I was a war hero in Vietnam.
I drew out the enemy by burning down huts.
I killed twenty-three men with one fist.

You would think that means something,
but society doesn’t seem to think so.
I wonder when he’s coming back with those meatballs.
I really hate children.

My author abandoned me,
an elderly man with no arms,
in a parked car.

He forgot to give me personality.
I’m flat, and all I do to find help
is yell at passing children,

ignorant, with their Internet,
lazy, letting technology
cook their food.

They throw rocks at the window,
spit at me through the glass.
I think he wrote them flat too.

He’s in the store, buying meatballs.
I wonder when he’ll come back.
They can’t be that hard to find.

They’re right next to the rolls,
I told him – aisle 13, frozen foods.
I really hate children.

[Leanne]

Terrific concept The title alone definitely makes it worth reading.

I'm getting ready to submit some poems, and I'm on the fence about this one:

The Ageist Elderly Man with No Arms in the Parked Car

My author abandoned me,
an elderly man with no arms,
in a parked car. -- perhaps a little more description here -- trapped? Alone? Waiting? Wishing he could masturbate? Anything but just "in".

He forgot to give me personality. -- this line is the one I have the most trouble with. I appreciate what you're trying to do but I think this is too heavy-handed. Just "forgot" doesn't work. Was he distracted by hunger? In a rush to keep an assignation? Maybe his pencil broke. In fact, going straight to "I'm flat" for me as a reader is enough -- but it might not be enough for everyone.
I’m flat, and all I do to find help
is yell at passing children,

ignorant, with their Internet,
lazy, letting technology -- again, there could be something more here -- this is crying out for a bit more absurdism -- he's a grumpy, elderly man with no arms created by an author who is dying for meatballs, for heaven's sake!
cook their food.

They throw rocks at the window,
spit at me through the glass.
I think he wrote them flat too. -- this is brilliant -- straight out statement that puts everything in perspective

He’s in the store, buying meatballs.
I wonder when he’ll come back.
They can’t be that hard to find.

They’re right next to the rolls,
I told him – aisle 13, frozen foods.
I really hate children.

[Todd]

Hi Ganman,

Well let me give you some comments and see if I can help push you off one side of the fence. First off, I like the meta poetry. Most of the time this self reverential stuff doesn't work for me, but I like it here. I also like the title. It draws me in and makes me smile. It feels like the lead in for a joke. To the lines themselves:

I'm getting ready to submit some poems, and I'm on the fence about this one:

The Ageist Elderly Man with No Arms in the Parked Car

My author abandoned me,
an elderly man with no arms,
in a parked car.--Now, I'm having second thoughts about the title. This first strophe pretty much replays it with an interesting first line to give it context. I'm just not sure if the repetition buys you much. I'm for altering the title a bit before touching the lines.

He forgot to give me personality.
I’m flat, and all I do to find help
is yell at passing children,--Normally, I'd like more specific details here, but again saying that the character was written flat (badly) it sort of fits the writer's skills and the type of world that the character has been placed in

ignorant, with their Internet,
lazy, letting technology
cook their food.--Here I'm going to ask for more specificity that show more of the author's particular biases toward the young. Maybe an idea or a hurt in the author's past that this character gets to provide commentary on. If you made him break into some turgid exposition that might work. I see this character as a reverse Walter Mitty outwardly interesting, inwardly blah.

They throw rocks at the window,
spit at me through the glass.
I think he wrote them flat too.

He’s in the store, buying meatballs.
I wonder when he’ll come back.
They can’t be that hard to find.

They’re right next to the rolls,
I told him – aisle 13, frozen foods.
I really hate children.--great ending line

My initial feel is that I want more flourishes in this. I want them to be bad and bolted on. I want more references to bad tropes. What would maybe be interesting is if the old man receives help from one of the children like its one possible original idea breaking through only to have the old man go back to his final line regardless. Free will vs predestination with predestination winning.

I like the bones of it but feel it needs more.

I hope some of that helps.

Best,

Todd

[shemthepenman]

hello, I must say that the title reminded me of that Pearl Jam song 'Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town' and, strangely, the blur lyric 'the pay me girl has had enough of the bleeps', but regardless, this is an interesting one.
a line by line is unnecessary as all's been said. I will however reiterate 'i think he wrote them flat too' is great and plus the 'sense' is, dare i say, haptic. S3 conceptually is a bit forgettable, and a lot of the language is uninspiring, but all in all a pleasant read.

[shemthepenman]

em... no it isn't called that. at least not on my cd.

[Ganman]

hello, I must say that the title reminded me of that Pearl Jam song 'Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town'

Huh. I hadn't heard of that song. I'll have to take a look.

Thank you for your feedback! I took a look at it and came up with something a bit more fleshed out. Do you like the changes? Is there something more I could do with it? It would be really cool if you could let me know.

[Leanne]

At first glance, I really enjoy the inclusion of those stereotypical comments. These are all justified by the written flat notion and become a perfect irony.

[tectak]

I'm getting ready to submit some poems, and I'm on the fence about this one:

The Ageist Elderly Man with No Arms in the Parked Car
Hi ganman,
You put me in a quandary with this one. Just what is it that makes a piece of poetry attractive beyond the scope of well-intentioned critique? Discuss.
I like this instinctively...I will find that I am as unable to criticise as I am to eulogise...so here goes.
My author abandoned me,
an elderly man with no arms,
in a parked car. The badly drawn boy syndrome comes go mind. I will run with it. I find that I am satisfied with this explanation of this excellent opening stanza. I do not care if I am wrong so that is good. Terse verse is not my style but you have made good with the line breaks...so no issues from me.

He forgot to give me personality.
I’m flat, and all I do to find help seek. Find is a result.
is yell at passing children,

ignorant, with their Internet, Cash in on your title. Call it, as your character well might, "...their Interwebby" or some such. There is a credibility gap between old,man,arm,less and "internet"
lazy, letting technology
cook their food.

They throw rocks at the window,
spit at me through the glass.
I think he wrote them flat too. This is goodish. Comma after "flat"

He’s in the store, buying meatballs.
I wonder when he’ll come back.
They can’t be that hard to find.

They’re right next to the rolls,
I told him – aisle 13, frozen foods.
I really hate children. Pure Au. Do I know you?

It flies.
Best,
tectak

[Todd]

Much better, the meatballs feels a bit eclectic with no lead in. You could possibly make a reference to the parking meter expiring or something like that.

Maybe fists plural.

Beyond that, enjoyed the look at both sexes and where you took it.

It's a nice edit.

[billy]

nothing but an odd nit here. the transfiguration from fictional to some kind of corporeal being worked much better than i thought it would. maybe the 4th line is a little weak but it didn't take anything from the poem. the associations between age and youth while common, worked really well in giving the poem a great tone.

i think it's worthy of submitting.
thanks for the read. (and the feedback elsewhere)

I'm getting ready to submit some poems, and I'm on the fence about this one:

The Ageist Elderly Man with No Arms in the Parked Car great title.

My author abandoned me,
an armless old man trapped is the author the armless old man? i know he isn't but it's a niggle
in a parked car
on a winter morning.

I was written with no personality, this is where it gets interesting and funny
flat, no redeeming character traits,
and I can only solicit help
by yelling at passing children,

ignorant, with their Internet,
lazy, letting technology
cook their food,
pregnant at thirteen. i like the ageist parts you show here

The girls dress like prostitutes,
showing leg and midriff alike,
waving hello with their cleavage.
Women in my day were refined. i like how the writing (armless guy has come to life in a real way.

The boys lack a shred of respect
for an elderly gentleman like me.
They make jokes at my expense,
mocking my age, downplaying my experience.

I didn’t witness the wheel’s creation.
I didn’t bring fire down from Olympus.
I never hunted a dinosaur,
and I never met President Jackson.

They’re throwing gravel at my window now,
spitting at me through the glass,
displaying their hindquarters.
I think the author wrote them flat too.

I don’t deserve this. it seems so right that he's a whiner
I was a war hero in Vietnam.
I drew out the enemy by burning down huts.
I killed twenty-three men with my fist.

You would think that means something,
but society doesn’t seem to think so.
I wonder when he’s coming back with those meatballs.
I really hate children. good solid finish

My author abandoned me,
an elderly man with no arms,
in a parked car.

He forgot to give me personality.
I’m flat, and all I do to find help
is yell at passing children,

ignorant, with their Internet,
lazy, letting technology
cook their food.

They throw rocks at the window,
spit at me through the glass.
I think he wrote them flat too.

He’s in the store, buying meatballs.
I wonder when he’ll come back.
They can’t be that hard to find.

They’re right next to the rolls,
I told him – aisle 13, frozen foods.
I really hate children.

[Ganman]

I added a stanza and changed "fist" to "fists." It's not a huge change, but I'm interested to see how you all think it works.

[Leanne]

I wonder if I'm just being odd... but I kind of preferred "fist", because it seemed more of a specific boast. "Fists", on the other hand, just sounds a little like he's tossing off a regular phrase. Plus there's even more of the "older I get, the better I was" syndrome in having taken on 23 men one handed.

[Ganman]

I wonder if I'm just being odd... but I kind of preferred "fist", because it seemed more of a specific boast. "Fists", on the other hand, just sounds a little like he's tossing off a regular phrase. Plus there's even more of the "older I get, the better I was" syndrome in having taken on 23 men one handed.

That was my original intention, actually. I changed it so it's a little clearer than it was before, if you look, which hopefully makes everyone happy.

[Leanne]

The meatballs are better introduced now though.

You could do with a complaint about noise. Old people do that.

[billy]

i like fist, it's a bigger brag than fists

[Leanne]

Yep, one fist works

[billy]

i think the extra stanza works well, it turns an already good last stanza into a hook.

[Ganman]

The meatballs are better introduced now though.

You could do with a complaint about noise. Old people do that.

True, but I don't want my poem to necessarily be a compendium of old people stereotypes. :p I'll take that suggestion to mind, but right now, it seems a little extraneous unless I want to turn this into a full-blown narrative poem. Somebody actually suggested I bring this character into my other works, which could be fun, in which case that might be a better application.

So we're agreed on one fist?

[Leanne]

One fist is all that's required

Personally I like to try to incorporate as many senses as possible in poems -- but for you, it might mean sacrificing something else you're attached to, and we're not always doing ourselves a favour by killing those babies.

Vive la difference!

[Todd]

Do you need S3? I know you need the last two lines transitionally, but does the line about the kids being written flat too show the self awareness without having to lay it out like that.

Just thoughts, you may need it. I'm just wondering if the poem can show me something else in place of those lines.

I do like the idea of incorporating this character in other poems. It would have a Tarantino sort of feel to it. Or you could do a Nick Flynn cartoon physics part I, part II thing. Give something funny and then shift to poignant after the author edits.

---

Oh and "one" makes fist work for me--not that it matters what works for me.