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In Two
Posted: 06 June 2006
Word Count: 238
Summary: Most of my life, words dripped off my fingertips, so I wrote them down. Sometimes, these grew into poems, and at other times short stories or a partially-completed novel.
Last couple of years, have been peculiar. Words stopped dripping, and my fingertips grew silent.
This is the first poem I've put up in ages.
I'd love to know what you guys think.
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In Two
If you cut
my face
in two
Would my nose
sniff the air
of a
secular street
soaked
in alcohol
and party shoes?
Or incense
and
rose water
wafting
through an
open window
of
ghee
and cinnamon?
Would my mouth
speak out
against
injustice?
Would it
console
the wounded
with its softly spoken words?
Or just
weave banter
through
transient moments?
Would my ears
suck
the shifting tapestry
of
Camden Town?
Or
the call
of the muezzin
early
in the morning
through
a filter
of
half-sleep
and
partially-remembered dreams?
Would my eyes
read philosophy
travel the world
with
Ibn Battuta
And wonder
what shapes
were made
by thousands
of years
of
women’s silence
Or
would they
just
catch fragments
of news
and
gossip
off
the metro
and
the internet?
If you
tied my hands
with kindness
And
burnt my fingers
with
your tears
If you
fructified
my confusion
with
your gentle smiles
If my heart
beat
to the rhythm
of
so many
conflicting
aromas
If I
wander
in
and out
of different
breaths
as a flimsy chameleon
If my feet
grew on sand
and
vanished
below
the layers
of
anaesthesia
If you cut
me
in two
and
half of me
sat
on top of a
banyan tree
If the
picture
was
just bigger
not
clearer
What
would you see?
What colour
would
my
liver be?
---Jib, 10.41am, Tue 06 Jun 2006. In my room in London
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Comments by other Members
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 Plagious at 14:30 on 06 June 2006
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Hi Jibunnessa - tricky to read. The essense of sentence or stanza is lost as the eye keeps scrolling without time to digest content. Perhaps just me?
Appeared this had been written in prose and then edited. Without changing words or word order, the following might be smoother to the reader? Your choice, of course! Plagious
In Two
if you cut my face in two
would my nose sniff the air
of a secular street
soaked in alcohol
and party shoes?
or incense
and rose water
wafting
through an open window
of ghee and cinnamon?
would my mouth
speak out against injustice?
would it console the wounded
with its softly spoken words?
or just weave banter
through transient moments?
would my ears
suck the shifting tapestry
of Camden Town?
or the call
of the muezzin
early in the morning
through a filter of half-sleep
and partially-remembered dreams?
would my eyes read philosophy
travel the world
with Ibn Battuta
and wonder what shapes
were made by thousands of years
of women’s silence
or would they just catch fragments
of news and gossip
off the metro
and the internet?
if you tied my hands with kindness
and burnt my fingers
with your tears
if you fructified my confusion
with your gentle smiles
if my heart beat to the rhythm
of so many conflicting aromas
if I wander in and out
of different breaths
as a flimsy chameleon
if my feet grew on sand
and vanished below the layers
of anaesthesia
if you cut me in two
and half of me sat
on top of a banyan tree
if the picture was just bigger
not clearer
what would you see?
what colour
would my
liver be?
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Jibunnessa at 14:59 on 06 June 2006
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Hi Plagious
Thank you for taking the time to re-write my poem so that it looks so much more like all of yours.
The way I wrote it was actually very very deliberate - the way I'd like it to be read out.
And NO, it wasn't written in prose first.
Thanks for your comments.
Jib
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 James Graham at 19:02 on 09 June 2006
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I began by thinking again (briefly) about…comment and rewriting of your poem. But after reading and re-reading I can see no reason to change the lineation, not even in any specific part of the poem. In general terms, I think if you were to ‘telescope’ this poem into one that had longer and fewer lines, something valuable would be lost. It’s not universally true of all poetry, because subject-matter varies infinitely, but it certainly can be said of this poem: the longer the lines, the less spontaneity. Again this is a generalisation, but long lines tend to give an impression that the thoughts expressed are premeditated and fully formed. The poem becomes more of a statement of something that has been aged in oak, and can end up having all the spontaneity and improvisatory energy of a Shakespeare sonnet.
Your poem as it stands is much more immediate. The speaker seems to be not only speaking now, in this immediate moment, but thinking now. She is alert, her mind and imagination are very alive, and she is making it up as she goes along. I don’t mean that’s the way you actually wrote the poem; I mean that’s the effect the poem’s form and language are likely to have on the reader. It has an improvisatory quality, which of course it should be allowed to keep. This effect isn’t based solely on the short lines, but also has to do with surprising turns that the poem often takes. More on this below.
The form suits the presentation of a ‘train of thought’ - a train of questioning thought. The spontaneous working out of the thoughts in a monologue like this, especially where so much is in the form of questions, comes with many hiatuses and hesitations - with frequent pauses, some quite long, some minute. Thinking of the poem in terms of reading aloud, you can read any section letting the voice pause after every short line - even one-word lines - but let the pauses range from almost imperceptible to some that would make listeners wonder briefly if that was the end of the poem. My efforts to read it aloud have convinced me that it works well.
I mentioned the ‘turns’ the poem takes. Just two examples from the beginning. As we read, at least the first part of the poem, we come across a set of alternatives. Would my nose sniff the air of a secular street that smells of alcohol and has some of the remains of boozy celebrations lying about? Or, would it sniff…what? What alternative, what opposite to this do we expect as we read on? What we get is a blend of incense, rose water, ghee and cinnamon. There’s an element of surprise in that - though possibly more for Western readers than for anyone from the Islamic world? (Have I got that wrong?) The alternatives of speaking out against injustice or ‘to weave banter/ through/ transient moments’ surprise mainly through the inventiveness of the language - these are good turns of phrase. So one way and another the poem takes surprising turns - but I should qualify that by saying that for me its turns mostly have that double effect that you expect from a good poem: it’s surprising, but nothing seems out of place, it seems right.
I mustn’t forget to mention the lines that stick with me more than any others. (Different readers home in on different things in a poem.)
Would my eyes
read philosophy
travel the world
with
Ibn Battuta
And wonder
what shapes
were made
by thousands
of years
of
women’s silence
Or
would they
just
catch fragments
of news
and
gossip
off
the metro
and
the internet? |
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<Added>
Must have clicked on the 'post' button before I meant to. The first sentence refers to Plagious's comment. Apart from that, I think all I left out is Hi Jibunnessa! at the top and to sign it at the bottom.
James.
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Jibunnessa at 08:28 on 10 June 2006
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Hi James
Thank you so much for taking the time to read and re-read my poem and comment on it at such length.
I don't really like explaining my work that much. When I wrote it, it didn't occur to me that some of the turns may be surprising. But, now that you mention it, it brings fresh delight to having written it.
I am pleased that you can see why I structured the lines the way I did.
I'm glad you like it. And actually a bit chuffed that you've had so many good things to say about it.
I'm now going to post my next one. HOpe you like that too.
All the best
Jib
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