Wake Up Call
By sid
- 4841 reads
I was lying in bed, just revelling in
bank holiday languor when you
walked in and said ‘can you
take me to hospital, babe.
I’ve broke me shoulder’
I leapt and flailed and tripped
and cursed myself for being so
fucking inept, and then we
drove in frantic silence and
waited in agonizing suspense,
and then the doctor pressed and
pulled and twisted and you held my
gaze the whole time and your
eyes were so wild and I was
shocked that such a savage
creature could be mine and I
must admit I fancied you just that
little bit more, like I’d only just
discovered that my tabby was a
lion, and then he pressed too hard
and your neck snapped up and you
gave him that look, like step back
motherfucker or I’ll bite and he
retreated very swiftly, for such a
portly little man.
Next day your talk’s delirious, your
face emaciated by pain and you were
too thin before, drifting in and out of
consciousness, hands scuttle and crawl
in your lap, lips munch and distort and I
feed you drugs and fags and tea and
soup and more drugs, but nothing’s good
enough, and beside you I crunch crisps
guiltily as you writhe in agony and I
know it’s heartless but I can’t help it
if I’m hungry and sometimes you
talk to people who aren’t there and
once I saw you kissing, so lovingly at
thin air and the room smells of
suffering and the dog keeps on
disturbing you or those dreams where you
jerk awake propel you into sudden torture
and I’m afraid your weak heart will
up and decide it can take no more
and I don’t know what to do or who to
call, I dialled 111; the lady was brusque
to say the least and she knew fuck all,
and all I know is that I’m perishing
for fear of losing you.
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Comments
Excellent. Love that you've
Excellent. Love that you've written this sid. 12 category?
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You do shameless irony like
You do shameless irony like no one else, making me guffaw like a goat (especially while you were munching your crisps) and then you manage to pull my bleeding heartstrings with a harpoon and smack me at the end with lush/harsh reality.
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how nice to see your name on
how nice to see your name on abc again sid. This is a fantastic poem, as it should be coming from you. Congratulations on the golden cherries. I hope he gets better soon. I had gastro-enteritis once, and I remember my boyfriend at the time sitting on the end of the bed eating whole shrimps, doing unmentionable things to their heads. I never felt quite the same about him afterwards...
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It's a beauty, Sid. It runs
It's a beauty, Sid. It runs on panic and heartache, with a jolt of crispy humour and just knocks you with that emotional break at the end. Back on form and delighted to see you .
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This is great, personal
This is great, personal,factual,flows well, full of love Elsie
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sid...so very good to read
sid...so very good to read you again...with that golden touch of yours
Tina
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yes!
I'm not a great one for poetry and only like the bits that sound like prose or make you think: yes, that's it entirely. But this is something else! Nice to read someone's work that comes from feelings rather than situations. And what a nice name: Sid.
In admiration
MLB
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I love this sid, so
I love this sid, so cleverly constructed, and heartbreaking at the end. Great work.
Linda
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loved it!!!
loved it!!! gave me mixed feelings... ;)
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An arkwardly delicious thread
An arkwardly delicious thread of tension running right through it...right to that piquant final line. So true to life. xx
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While joining in the general
While joining in the general consensus of the worthiness of the piece, the pedant in me cannot help pointing out a mispelling that sticks out like a sore thumb. The word in the second line should be languor. Paraphrasing the old British Gas advert "If you see Sid...Tell him!".
Best, Luigi
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