Second full revision
Forgot I Was Lost
I rarely went outside my skin
was milk white
blue veined shadowed
beneath the eyes
a city child
sound travelled upward
into the apartment reading
under cover till morning
dad bought secondhand bikes
for my brother and me
Central Park
monthly access visits
my little brother rode perfectly first go
smooth wheels, easy ride
I fell, again and again
not catching up
when I finally got it I took
off, hair blowing back
zooming ahead
others could catch up with me
for a change
finally I stopped suddenly
alone, falling onto the tarmac
skinning my knee
I wouldn’t cry, I was nearly eight
the ice cream man
like the peddler from Caps for Sale
offered a vanilla cone
as medicine
soothed by creaminess
I sorted the messy cart
flavour and type
my face cooled as I leaned in
handing out popsicles, sundae cups
crunch bars
between customers he told me how he
once also got lost in the park
found his way out
using lamp-post labels
a whole other park at foot level
black and yellow garden spiders
lady beetles, vibrant grasshoppers
a Chinese mantis peering up
like a vexed alien
by the time my dad arrived
with two policemen I had
forgotten I was lost.
Original:
Lost
I rarely went outside my skin
was milk white
blue veined shadowed
beneath the eyes
a city child
blue veined shadowed
beneath the eyes
a city child
I didn’t sleep much at night
sound travelled upward
into the apartment I read
into the apartment I read
under cover till morning
lost in story
lost in story
Dad bought secondhand bikes
took my brother and me
to Central Park
on bi-weekly access visits
my brother rode perfectly first go
but I was always falling over
trying to catch up
when I finally got it I took
off drunk on freedom
zooming ahead
the others could catch up with me
for a change
finally I stopped
realising I was alone
in a panic, I fell off
skinning my knee
I wouldn’t cry, I was nearly eight
a man who looked like the peddler
from Caps for Sale
was selling ice creams
he saw me fall and
offered a vanilla cone
as medicine
soothed by creaminess
I offered to help him
sorted his messy cart
by flavour and type
my face was cool as I leaned into the cart
handing out popsicles, sundae cups
crunch bars
between customers he told me how he
once also got lost in the park
and found his way out
using lamp-post labels
he showed me a whole other park
black and yellow garden spiders
lady beetles, vibrant grasshoppers
a Chinese mantis peering up
like a vexed alien
I offered to help him
sorted his messy cart
by flavour and type
my face was cool as I leaned into the cart
handing out popsicles, sundae cups
crunch bars
between customers he told me how he
once also got lost in the park
and found his way out
using lamp-post labels
he showed me a whole other park
black and yellow garden spiders
lady beetles, vibrant grasshoppers
a Chinese mantis peering up
like a vexed alien
by the time my dad came
running towards me
with two policemen I had
forgotten I was lost.
running towards me
with two policemen I had
forgotten I was lost.
great ending
ReplyDelete-- in fact that would make a really interesting title
...
but I particularly like
I rarely went outside my skin
not sure how intended that double reading was... but I think (as a lover of ambiguity) that would be something interesting to work with
This is very helpful, Kit, especially since the bit that is really confounding me about the verse memoir is that I feel it needs more ambiguity - more of the openness that I like in poetry. I think I will take your suggestion for the title and play with enhancing the ambiguity through line breaks as per Béatrice’s suggestion below. Thank you.
DeleteWhen reading out loud the poem I felt like changing some line breaks ... I might be completly wrong and too much impregnanted with something "French" in the music I like to hear .... anyway here is my suggestion:
ReplyDeleteI rarely went outside my skin
was milk white
blue veined shadowed
beneath the eyes
a city child
I didn’t sleep much at night
sound travelled upward
into the apartment I read
till morning torch
under cover
lost in story
Dad bought secondhand bikes
took my brother and me
to Central Park for sunshine
on bi-weekly access visits
my brother rode perfectly
first go but I was
always falling over
trying to catch up
when I finally got it I took
off drunk on freedom
zooming ahead
the others could catch up with me
for a change
finally I stopped
realising I was alone
in a panic, I fell off
skinning my knee
I wouldn’t cry, I was nearly eight
a man who looked like the peddler
from Caps for Sale
was selling ice creams
he saw me fall and
offered a vanilla cone
as medicine
soothed by creaminess
I offered to help him
sorted his messy cart
by flavour and type
my face was cool as I leaned into the cart
handing out popsicles, sundae cups
crunch bars
between customers he told me how he
once also got lost in the park
and found his way out
using lamp-posts labels
at foot level then
he showed me a whole other park
black and yellow garden spiders
lady beetles, vibrant grasshoppers
a Chinese mantis peering up
like a vexed alien
by the time my dad came
running towards me
with two policemen I had
forgotten I was lost.
Béatrice, your suggestions are spot on! Thank you so much for this - I think you really got to the heart of what was bugging me here - not just the constriction which Kit pointed out (and picked out what worked best), but the rhythm of the thing. Changing the structure/line breaks really helps I think with opening out the meaning. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your insightfulness - I’ve updated with most of your suggestions (and cleaned it up a bit more too).
ReplyDeleteMagdalena, I really like the poem, especially the first line (as Kit mentioned) and the last stanza, which is quite powerful. My only problem with the poem is that there is a bit much telling and not enough showing - I have written a lot of autobiographical past-tense poems and have struggled with the issue myself. I think showing v. telling is always a problem with autobiographical/memoir works. Perhaps you could try it in present tense, which would make it more immediate, and also try showing the emotion (e.g. "in a panic") rather than naming it.
ReplyDeleteGreat advice - thanks Nathanael. I’ve been struggling with the whole memoir thing for a while now in prose and now in poetry and I think you’re right - it’s easy to slip into recount narrative (eg “did I ever tell you about the time”). I’m going to try your idea and recast in present tense with more showing and will put a new version above the old. So glad this is actually working like a workshop rather than just encouragement (the cheerleading was really nice in 366 but I like the idea of using this platform for working on things that are trickier but that we don’t want to give up on rather than our best showcase work.
Delete