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Termination of newness
Posted: 11 January 2004
Word Count: 37
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Hospital stench assaulting my senses,
latex-clad hands belonging to strangers,
stares, disapproval,
from eyes that don't know
the 'why' that cements this procedure.
Necessary segregation
of body and soul -
nearly-life, so innocent,
but swiftly no more.
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Comments by other Members
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 roovacrag at 15:22 on 11 January 2004
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Such feeling in this,heartbreaking,rendering a soul to another life. Sometimes better to terminate than to suffer for years. A good piece.
xx Alice
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tinyclanger at 17:11 on 11 January 2004
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A great read, BoBo. You've conveyed so much with so little, and very effectively communicated the sense of condemnation from others.
I especially love,
" eyes that don't know
the 'why' that cements this procedure"
Excellent
tc
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Bobo at 17:18 on 11 January 2004
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Fearless/Al/tc - thanks for your comments. Relieved you didn't feel it too cliched, trite.
BoBo x
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 Dee at 17:35 on 11 January 2004
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So sad, BoBo. So sparcely and beautifully written.
Dee.
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Account Closed at 19:14 on 11 January 2004
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Goodness - marvellously bleak. You manage to state in a few beautifully-chosen words the huge pit of emotions I have about hospitals - will have to have a swift G&T now to recover!..
Anne B
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miffle at 11:58 on 12 January 2004
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Bobo
A moving distillation of a traumatic and alien experience. The kind of poem that I wish I had written :-) Not a word out of place. Be kind to yourself :-)
nicola
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 Elsie at 20:52 on 14 January 2004
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Indeed sparse, clinical, like the procedure. Was impressed at how quickly you conveyed what's going on, without actually giving too much information. Well done
Elsie
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 John G.Hall at 12:36 on 15 January 2004
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Great second line, the beat is split into the precise measure for the 'latex clad hands' and then the lilting measure of 'belonging to strangers'.This has a sound effect that conveys the system and the procedure which you felt part of. You could expand this poem along those lines I think.
A very succinct piece.But it may develop into something bigger if you wish it. William Blake once said that a poem is like a bird on the wing, you must catch it in flight. You catch the moment perfectly.So perhaps small suits.
JGH
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Bobo at 18:02 on 15 January 2004
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Elsie / JohnG - thanks for your comments. I'm relieved the clinical nature of the topic came through in the style.
BoBo x
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