At the beginning of the month I reviewed Jenny Rossi’s book Riches for One • Poverty for Two. She prefers to write free verse and works out of Burlington, Vermont. We agreed to barter. In exchange for reviewing her book, she promised me some traditional poems. Here they are. Let her know what you think. How did she do?
- Okay, here they are. 1 and 2 are new, 3 is one that’s a couple years old. (See! See why I don’t write in rhymes!) but I wanted to include it because, alas – truly slim pickins’.
1.
The tapping faucet, facet fingers
Little drops of madness! To linger on the brain
much like the tracing of your fingers,
these drops upon the drain.
My thoughts – a violin, your mind a bow to strain
I have longer to wait, to hear the waling of my alarm
and rise up from my bed, to greet such a laboured song
I feel it in my bones I must drown to tapping water
and wait out the night, slow and long.
Let us make a midnight chorus! With me to howl, you to contain
en petite drops of water, to drop long after the rain
2.
I carry the states like candy which
lingers long after they’ve gone
sucked away entirely by rough lovers tongue
Tennessee was hot and slick; red cinnamon
like toffee Arizona’s heat
California left me dizzy – I couldn’t taste again
until sweet Georgia’s peach
The men I’ve ground hips against
all taste much the same
until a state is matched against
a shadow covered frame
Comrades of my mouth
pucker with disdain
so much tasting! So little sweetness
amid such little gain
Men float after as wrappers,
empty
husks of their states
and should I cross any borders now
ghosts would gather at the gates
3.
I wear a skin dress
I have a nice mess
I grow rugged skin
I’ve had sundry men
I can sing along
I can’t sing a new
Song
I am getting off key
I can’t get you off
Off me
And the time is getting near
Where I get more and more wear
The lines are jagged
Now
Don’t be getting ahead of yourself
All you want is someone else
To read and write the same fucking
thing
Over and over again
My hands are burning now
From so much writing down
And it must come to a jump or end or period or
Lets pretend
I can sing this all life-long,
“I have a skin dress on . . .”
When they let the shades down
At 6 o’clock
in clean homes
I will shriek to let them know
Some of us girls
are down the gutter now
and all we have is this,
this skin dress to sew.
I like the last stanza of “skin dress”, and the first four lines of “1.” the rest of it…no. Wait, the slant rhyme of water and alarm appeals to me.
Fingers/fingers, against/against indicates a lack of desire to write in rhyme. Some poets just don’t want rhyme, but I bet she could do better if she gave it more attention. I’d guess these poems have received only light revision.
Perhaps internal rhyme would be a better fit with her style, instead of the end-line she is attempting.
Rhyme is shy and waits for delight to find it.
It was really cool of her to try though, right? :-) But thanks for your comment John. If Jenny is anything like me (and maybe you) we poets get so we’ll take any kind of attention: praise, criticism, beat us with a stick, but don’t ignore us.
The first two had heinous amounts of revision, the last one – only slight. And it’s not for lack of not wanting to as it is more feeling foolish doing so.
But your feedback is incredibly helpful – I do appreciate fresh eyes. Ironically, the last stanza of ‘skin dress’ was one I thought deserved chopping the most – back to the writing desk for me though. Not quite sure I have the knack or talent for the rhyming business!