I thought I'd try it,
Put it on for size.
But I'm always too late
Or too something for the ball.
Drinking coffee at the keyboard,
Trying to turn pumpkins
Into chariots
With cats on my feet.
The music plays,
The clock chimes,
And it's over
Before it began.
There are no minutemen
At the door.
Just an old soft shoe
Missing the dance.
Not necessarily sad, Peter. Could be good humoured ackowledgment of a non-achievement. It's healthy to be insightful about having been unrealistic !
I like your metaphors, Marty, and especially the last stanza.
In this short and compactly written poem however, the first two lines don't strike me as strong enough to be your openers. Their language isn't anything out of the ordinary, and they leave unclear the meaning of "it", which could be as small as trying to compose some super-witty and original message of congratulations on the occasion of party, or as large as trying to make a career as a writer.
Is "cats on my feet" a metaphor which I don't get, or is it referring literally to house pets who like to fall asleep beneath a writing desk and on top of stockinged feet? Either way, a great image!
Ian
As I read and read and read your poem, I idetified in my own simplistic way. To me,it felt like sitting idle, in pygamas, probably wearing fluffy slippers the shape of kittens, the oes that are warm in winter. Nothing happening to a point where the event present is stilless.
I love te Cinderella allusions all over the poem. To me your poem says a dream will not come true tonight no matter how hard you dream. It is not particularly sad; just realistic: the dream in mind, reality at hand!
Thanks for an inspiring read. The title keeps things pending, like the open end of a story!
K.Q.
Marty,
re-reading the relative length of my comments about those first two lines, I realize you might get the impression that that was my dominant comment on the poem.
Not my intention! My main comment was that I like the poem.
The first two lines are by no means bad. I only meant to suggest that there might be potential for improving them. It wasn't a major comment.
Cheers,
Ian
Peter, thanks for commenting. I appreciate hearing even a single word from you.
Ian,
I'm always glad when you pop in. Your comments this time made me laugh, which is a good thing. Sometimes we have to laugh or we'd cry; and personally, I much prefer the former.
a good humoured ackowledgment of a non-achievement
is so funny for several reasons, one of which is because it wasn't...another is because non-achievement is both putting it mildly and putting it in funny terms. I think I Aced Dreamer School, but failed Love 101 back in Junior High and it's been downhill ever since. Not really, but it feels that way sometimes.
There are many schools of thought about how to approach poetry, and even love for that matter. I've never really approached either with a particular purpose or motive in mind, but try to keep an open heart and they just get in. I don't write poetry to become successful at it and I don't fall in love intentionally.
Anyway, the first two lines are what came to me and the rest just followed. I didn't set out to write a Cinderella poem and feel sort of silly for having done so.
With cats on my feet.
was originally written, "with mice at my feet"...indicating a sort of messy atmosphere from being distracted. I then thought mice too close to the scenerio with the pumpkins and changed it to, "with cats at my feet" which I literally do have 2 cats.
The fact that I have two cats only adds to the irony of my life because I was never inclined to house pets and am allergic to most cats, have never dreamed of having one and never dreamed in a million years that I'd have one, let alone 2. The idea that cats chase mice away is also fitting.
At that point, I just threw in the towel and had the cats "on my feet"...sort of like a lampshade being worn on one's head and rather inconvenient if trying on princess slippers. I'm not sure those castle guys would even let me try one on. No, not her, she's got cats on her feet (sort of like skipping the houses with no porch light on at Halloween.)lol
Don't worry one bit, Ian. You have my vote as being a most credible critique of poetry and I value your presence at e-mule, your honesty, and all of your comments.
K.Q.,
You never cease to amaze me with your readings and I think we share much in our places as women and mothers. I imagine the prince still finds Cinderella sexy after 25 years and in fleece pajamas and fluffy slippers. Like I said, I Aced Dreamer school! Thanks, K.Q. So glad you're back.
Mary
I approach poetry exactly as I approach love. Full on frontal assult, charge!! I'm talking emotional love here, not the physical stuff oft called love, but is mearly lust.
My favorite is when I get a SINGLE word from Peter!! We have had many words.. oh well, I'd still buy him some form of beverage and discuss anything from Poets to Prince and we would both leave the table thinking "What an idiot", more convinced we each are right that when we arrived.
Cinderella is in every woman's makeup. You hear the story as a little girl, it whirls you away and it never goes away completely. Peter Pan for the boys. There is nothing wrong writting a pumpkin coach, mousie footguys story. A good poet stands naked everytime they pick up their pen. There is a defined syndrome in men called the "Peter Pan Syndrome" where they never quite grow up. Some even become pilots... geeeezzzzeeeee,,,, Mamas, don't let your boys grow up to be pilots!! Anyhow, I'd pert'near betcha a quarter on the corner that a Cinderella syndrome exists amongst women. Not a bad thing.
wonderful story you spin hereupon Marty...very good job. Nice read. Well told. How about a real Nevada "Done good, kiddo, ya done real good"
what was the cinderella story that drew barrymore was in? everlasting? anyways, i liked that version. a girl who thinks for herself. wasn't da vinci also in this version?
anyways, i enjoy poems with few words that allow for many images--> well done, mary.
Mary
The music plays,
The clock chimes,
And it's over
Before it began.
a very solemn moment. I hear the sad tone in this poem, but also there seems to be a hopefulness in it...otherwise I don't think you would have written it. Cinderella was saved from her circumstance by a dream of something better. whether it was fairy godmother or mice who knew how to sew..who knows.
I'm not sure I get the title accompanying the poem. It seems a bit too formal. I would think something more in line with the dreaminess and hope would be better.
Marflow
Thanks, Terry, for putting me at ease. I find it uncomfortable to admit the dream still lingers in the background. I guess because it was a hard road to get to the point of accepting not only that I'm fine without it, but that it doesn't exist and I'm actually better off not believing in it. If I say out loud that I still believe, I risk the not being fine without it. Glad to know I'm not a freak of nature. Although perhaps that explanation is a little freaky.lol
mitts, I haven't seen that movie, but have watched a few too many love stories lately.
marflow, thanks for the comments. Maybe the formality of the title is the part of me that deals more with reality. I think there's hope in reality as well as in dreams. Thanks.
Mary
A bit late to this conversation, as you've alredy explained the thing. But I just wanted to say this. The feeling of the poem for me is comforting.
This paints a picture of someone in a comfortable bathrobe, sitting among some clutter at a typewriter, feeling at peace with who they are and where they are. All this despite the many times and ways we get "killed now and then" during our lives. (William Stafford, The Way It Is)
An enjoyable poem. Not sad.
Steevo
Thanks, Steevo. Your response was comforting as well. I can't remember who used to say it (not Jackie Gleason I don't think) but, "what it is.....what it is..."
Mary