The Songbird Shies from Yesterday's Sorrow

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

By Michael Valentine

Sun, 01 Mar 2015
  • 2128 reads
6 comments
 
The Songbird Shies From Yesterday’s Sorrow
 
I opened up the pages of a novel I had read before
By now the characters and settings look like people and rooms I used to know
And a girl stood behind me at the bar with a face like thunder
She studied the movements of my blushing face
She could read my mind, I didn’t doubt
I glanced at her mirror-practiced pout but before I could suss her out
She asked me, “Don’t I know your name?”
 
I was certain we had met before
When I was cold and had nowhere else to go
Sallow skinned and still a pup
Lamenting life on park benches and autumn leaves
A national failure and a local thief
But now the stars shine out of my every orifice
And I panic that someone might remind me of the scum I used to be
 
The question burned and branded a black mark across my soul
As the jukebox gobbled gold and played a song I had written with my ex-wife long ago
The girl danced a dainty dance without blunder
And as she wisped cold air on the back of my neck I lost my page
In the breeze whispered a plea to evoke and malice to provoke me
I thought of the scars which bespoke me as the microphone died during karaoke
And she asked me, “Don’t I know your name?”
 
In my head the giddy orchestral strings wiggled to a crescendo
I saw a white-room, a dangerous woman cutting plant-food and detergent in the blow
The flowerbeds hide lovers and the soprano birdsong cries of murder
I, six roses on my lap, once waited nine-hours for a fake train
When you look at me, do you see the raff-raff?
And I bet she knows about the cold baths and the evening alone screaming in the dark
But all she asked was, “Don’t I know your name?”
 
I was certain we had met before
When I was cold and had nowhere else to go
Sallow skinned and still a pup
Lamenting life on park benches and autumn leaves
A national failure and a local thief
But now the stars shine out of my every orifice
And I panic that someone might remind me of the scum I used to be
Certificate 12
Poem
White Lines and Black Rhymes
Drama
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Canonette on

I really enjoyed this.  Would make a brilliant performance piece.  I could also really empathise with the shame that gets carried through life and the fear of being exposed for what we really are.

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Really liked this.  When I was younger I used to worry that my past would be found out when I was famous - like I was ever going to be famous, or my past was anything much either.  Such a tender central character.  Our pasts are like stories in novels.  Lots of great ideas here.

Submitted by Michael Valentine on

Thanks for the feedback

Submitted by Bee on

Just wanted to add my like, too - for the poem and the way it turns towards the end, and also for that beautiful bird song picture.

Bee

Submitted by blighters rock on

This and Fiddlesticks are beautiful examples of self-fragmentation through love and time. 

 

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