Crime & Confession

A tale of hopeless passion

I shot a poem today 

Its hanging in my closet

Naked, limp and dead

Torn up in the middle

Oozing blood from the head

No more midnight rendezvous

and all night tussles

On crumpled white sheets

No more spurning me in

Moments of ecstasy and heat

I was shadowed in my dreams

Seized in all my waking hours

Yet, of conception

I was given such little power

How long could I take the

lack of potency, the pain?

The vagueness and taunts

The total shelling of my brain

So I shot that poem down

Word by mocking word

Line by nagging line

And if I never score again

It will suit me just so fine

Author's Note

A poet would understand...



(Written in a light vein. No offense meant :))

Reviews

[.]

Very well carried metaphor here, Monsieur P! You could apply various alternative meanings to this poem. At the forefront is the obvious idea of giving up on a nagging, evasive poem that taunts from the corners of the mind and refuses to relent and give up its words. Such poems are certainly very annoying and when the nagging gets too much to handle one just has no choice but to put that poem down by whatever means necessary. I am sure most of us genuine poets have murdered a poem in such ways, and some others prefer to murder the reader by leaving truly awful, nagging poetry on the page. A true poet knows when to bury a poem or make it swim with da fishes! The unenlightened will murder everything in its path and damn the consequences! This is an excellent idea and one well carried and executed (pun intended!) Join the line of the poetic serial killers, my friend. You are in the company of many Bundy's and even a few Hannibal Lecters! Much enjoyed this one!

[AJNJ]

Your review is delightful Madame :)
At the cost of sounding immodest, I must say I judge most of my work very harshly and like you, I am a seasoned killer. I'm doing backflips and cartwheels at your mention of Hannibal Lecter and Ted Bundy! I'll bake and eat my poem with beans next time! Thank you Tank you Maa'm, you're the ultimate and the best! Talking of serial killers though, Jeffrey Dahlmer remains my favorite :) HeeHee Thumping Thanks. I enjoyed this review better than the poem itself :)

[AJNJ]

******Thank you**********
Sheeeesh that was a typo. Sorry!

[Jimmy Yetts]

Some poems believe they hold all the cards; their selfish lack of cooperation, however, sometimes
starkly reveals their decidedly tentative position.
The poet is the god of his or her, admittedly, limited universe; these makers can terminate--at any time--even the most ambitious poem.
Unruly verse, beware!

[AJNJ]

I'm glad I finished off with her...Thanks a ton, dear sir.

[Einstein Noodle]

powerful .. the poem is the woman is the poem .. love it! well done says i! i don't know what to say .. this is so full of instant pain, grief and loss ... the passion in writing and/or romance can be like childbirth (as i imagine it must be) all of it worth it in the end ;) killer closing ..i feel the frustration ..our minds go out the window and wake up in the morning .. somehow i think you hero will not hold to his word tho ... once a romantic always........................ :}
E.

[AJNJ]

Killing is always senseless :) I too am a romantic and I'm all for happy endings. I just got carried away with the metaphor.
Thanks a lot dear sir, E. I am thrilled to make your acquaintance and I appreciate this review very much!

[gram linski]

I can't really add much to all the other great reviews you have had, Pestonjee, I have loads that should be blindfolded and shot at Dawn, one last cigarette dangling from their lips and still they mock me, great poem

[AJNJ]

I love that dangling cigarette! Makes them so much more shady and sly. Thanks a lot sir. Your words mean much!

[John the Baptist]

Sounds like a crime of passion to me. Indeed, if I had shot every poem of mine that frustrated me, I would be classified as a serial killer.

[AJNJ]

Keeping them till they can be revived is another good option. Thank you very much sir.

[Eilis]

As a poet, I do indeed understand. The frustration with not being able to bring the idea to fruition. And then your parting shot-- the point where the skirmish with a poem (or clutch of poems) becomes so infuriating it almost feels worth giving up the ghost.

I've been here when writer's block settles in and not a single idea will cooperate. So, would love a defense against the rogue word in those times. A poetry hunting arsenal might not be a bad thing. A little brutal, perhaps haha, but sometimes the words leave us no choice.

I can never forget William Faulkner's idea that some stories (or we could say poems) don't want to be written. I have found this to be true, but then have also found sometimes if I just allow my mind a bit of space, it will find a way to saying the thing. So, here's to all those ideas that don't want to be captured. And our innate power to get through to them. At least there's the hope that the passion might one day be satisfied.

This is a creative approach to the battle with the muse. Cool poem, Pestonjee.

[AJNJ]

I appreciate much the point you made about William Faulkner. Some great stories just can never get written! The wisdom is in me knowing the difference. The other point you made about giving our mind the space almost always works for me and if only I wasn't so impatient!

Thank you very much for such a thoughtful review and helpful feedback on this poem, Ms. Eilis! 🌷

[jacob erin-cilberto]

do you hear the sirens, Peston?
I have already called the cops and they should be there any second to arrest you for involuntary poemslaughter ....:)))
what a clever metaphor here...

i'd like to hang this one up in my own closet.
j.

[AJNJ]

Thanks a lot sir! Getting convicted would be a great achievement for this scribbler.

[Lydia Shutter]

Smiling here....I think we all have felt this way, Pestonjee. Writing lines over and over again till we are finally pleased with them....and then editing them yet again. The pile of crumpled paper grows and the actual poem never materializes. Yes, I think shooting the damn thing is the only way to be rid of it! :) Great metaphor here. Lydi**

[AJNJ]

I'm joyful we could share a smile today evening, Ms. Lydi :) Thank you so much for the great review on this poem.

[Dhara_Ditzy Kat]

You almost blew me away. Put that gun away. Eeeeewwww! This was great Jee.

[AJNJ]

*Blows the smoke away from the nozzle and tosses the gun aside* Ms. Kat is terrified! My job is accomplished.
Thanks a ton for appearing on this page :)

[Dhara_Ditzy Kat]

Thank God! *dashes off*

[Neville]

Ah'... a man of passion.. a man of words... You have the bug I see... maybe a cult is called for... write on and truly, my fine literary friend

Neville

[AJNJ]

Indeed! I had written this almost on the verge of insanity once :) Thank you so much for the very kind appreciation sir!

[Neville]

you are most welcome my friend..

[.]

Again, this is a very enjoyable read, sir. Very few have the pen gravitas to carry a metaphor for the duration of a poem of decent length and you do that here with aplomb. I can sympathise with your words here; I have shot many poems over the course of my writing career; it's a byproduct of the craft. Anyone who has any pride in what they produce should be mass murdering their poems with great frequency. The pursuit of the perfect line, rhyme, metaphor, syllable etc is endless. Its only those who have no dignity for what they confer to the page that have no poetic blood on their hands; their pages are smeared with the blood of slaughtered language and words. Indeed, perhaps you should have turned your shotgun elsewhere, for this one is a very well written and conceived piece of writing. If only some true psychotics of the written word would ask to pleez, pleez shoot my poem, instead of beg for reviews on this site. They are the ones whose poems deserve to be drawn and quartered and left to rot in the sun for their crimes against poetry. An excellent write by you, sir. You carry your metaphor like Atlas.

[AJNJ]

I agree with you sir. Better to have blood on my hands than to slaughter poetry on the page. I am glad you have referred to some very shameless people in this world. They deserve the ignominy and oblivion that comes their way. My methods may be wrong sometimes but my intentions are always right as rain. My whole point is that arrogance and self-delusions have no part in Art. You have to approach it with such humility. We are NOTHING and we will be nothing. If you ask me what would be my most miniscule contribution to the art of writing. It would be only this one single line. I thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sharing your wit and your thoughts on this page. I am humbled.