Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(3 votes)

RatingRated by

You must login to vote

You will not remember the place you were laid low
unless of course
they traced your outline in permanent
if they did, you have nothing
to worry about
if not...
I hear Paul Harvey on AM radio
scratching my ears

There was a blood trail once
on the highway
like a o'possum on a white broken line
unable, tied to paint
face down silent
and another in a median ditch
mouth agape alternately closed mouthing
sounds and moans
"Tell Momma I love her and I'm sorry"
and a third blood trail
too dark to see
strong enough to smell

If you wonder how it ended
there were signs two years later
tracks,parts; and buzzards still circled
much like sharks
but the sand and chat, rocks and wind,
swallowed up the flesh, blood, bone, hide
so the casual observer would not know
why the buzzards flew high overhead
or why they roosted close by in the weeping
willows of desolation

Could you point to the exact place
you laid?
Could you paddle to the exact location
where your friend went under last?
Do you remember your last words spoken
as they disappeared out of sight forever
into the depths beyond your vaselined reach?

I am left with imprints silkscreened
on my soul and they are worthless
more than worthless
as I crawl away on my belly.

Related Items


The following comments are for "Silhouette"
by williamhill

Grim and neat
Good stuff, WH. Deep, dark, dank. Just like I like's 'em.

Two minor suggestions:

"or why they roosted close by in the weeping
willows of desolation"

I don't think you need, "... of desolation."

It's a bit heavy-handed. We know what weeping willows stand for. Put buzzards in 'em, and we REALLY know. If you need some more imagery, paint it for me. Don't smack me with a simile.

Also, "vaselined" seems a bit forced and doesn't scan real well. "Greasy" might do better. It seems more of a piece.

Other than that, mui bueno. Chunky. Gritty. Something to scrape off yer grill, cook on an open fire and eat because you have to.


( Posted by: andyhavens [Member] On: April 14, 2007 )

Your poetry is always mysterious to me...was this about road kill animals or people? ...whatever... It was good reading as all your poems are...Good to see you posting again...Kacee

( Posted by: nitz kitty [Member] On: April 14, 2007 )

Chalkmarks On The Roadway
This is a tough poem to critique because of the subject matter. You got some good stuff here after a bit of a rough start.

Then it loses some direction while at the same time really telling its story. A tough thing to reconcile without an equally inspired re-write.

I'd keep writing this poem until it turns out right because you've got something real going here.

You've got the ending. The last two stanzas are really moving.

You've also got the perfect title.

( Posted by: gomarsoap [Member] On: April 15, 2007 )

hard to read, harder to offer any intelligent comment... but visceral, uncompromising fare, just what I've come to expect and enjoy about your poems, rooted in the messy, gritty real... I too could have done without the "desolation", but other than that this was hard, dark, yet very definitely moving. thanks for this.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: April 17, 2007 )

a story
To me it says, "will you be able to tell your story when the time comes; will anybody listen?"

Very earthy and allegorical.


( Posted by: BWOz [Member] On: April 17, 2007 )

I can only agree that the last two stanzas are moving - the sort of moving that bundles up everything and shoves it into the readers arms, as if to say, "I'm done, there, it's said, now you deal with it."

There's some powerful imagery in here - again, I have to agree with another comment that 'desolation' and 'vaselined' were a bit much. The buzzards circling overhead like sharks was great - transplanting the imagery of one into the other's environment really brought the picture home.

Growing up in the south, I thought the word possum started with an "O" - I even spelled it Oppossum in my head. It wasn't until I moved to New England and told someone about the Oppossum family that lived beneath my porch (and often got stuck in my trash can) that I was laughed at and learned that to the rest of the world, they're just possums.

It's been years since I've seen it spelled with an "O" and it brought a grin to my face, despite the subject matter of the poem. So, thanks, not only for posting the poem, but for O-ing the Possum.

( Posted by: chinadoll [Member] On: April 18, 2007 )

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.