What is the colour…?
Posted: 30 November 2012
Word Count: 140
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What is the colour…?
Take
my hands
and
tie them
to
those
butterfly wings
that quiver
beneath
my chest
Scratch
my breath
with the
ripped
edges
of
yesterday’s news.
Burn it
with
bay leaves
Watch
the frail
imperceptible
curls
of smoke
try
to
squeeze
through
my fingers.
Walk
my thoughts
on
the heels
of
your
stilettos
See
the bouquet
of
docile chickens
tethered
to his
hands
as they
resign
themselves
to their
fate.
Slaves
that peck
at
each other’s
eyes
bound
but
not gagged
except
for
the
silent
particles
of
futility
colonising
their veins.
What
is
the
colour
of
this
cage?
our feet
splayed
in
confused
directions
as
digital
streams
send
abusive
voices
sprayed
by
cowards
hiding
behind
cryptic names
those
cyber nicabs
the
digital
invisibility
cloaks
that turn
slugs
into
tyrants
with teeth.
Jib, 1926 hours, 30 November 2012
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Comments by other Members
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 James Graham at 11:36 on 04 December 2012
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Hi Jibunnessa - welcome back to WW. It so happens that we’ve had some poems posted recently that have been excellent, but quite complex, needing to be re-read a number of times and thought about. Yours is like that too.
Here we have a poem full of surprising and compelling images. Six of its eight stanzas begin with commands or requests: Take, scratch, burn, watch, walk, see. Whoever is being addressed is being asked to make interventions. These are expressed in physical terms:
Take
my hands
and
tie them |
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Walk
my thoughts
on
the heels
of
your
stilettos |
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- but they suggest emotional experience: shock me, raise my awareness, even inspire me. The imagery here is very striking - the ‘butterfly wings’ image, ‘Scratch my breath...news’, the ‘bay leaves’ image, ‘Walk/ my thoughts’ and
See
the bouquet
of
docile chickens |
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- if I had to pick out one as a ‘first among equals’ it would be this last one, but they’re all very inventive.
The last of the commands, ‘See’, introduces a change of theme. We are invited to see the plight of the chickens. The effect of the images that have gone before is to insist that we see, not casually, but with sharpness and intensity. It may be possible to see the chickens as symbolic rather than real, but I think they’re real, partly because they ‘peck at each other’s eyes’ - something I’ve seen for myself (on a student vacation job, years ago). (I’ve also seen ‘bouquets’ of chickens - the word makes a big impression on me.) They are victims of tyranny, ‘docile’, resigned to death, 'slaves'. Such aggression as they have is turned on themselves.
The last stanza comes as a surprise. It’s an attack on ‘cowards’ who post offensive and often dangerous messages on the internet. But these cowards are also tyrants, like those who exercise tyranny over the chickens. In both cases, the victims are helpless against them; in the case of the internet ‘slugs’, it’s because they hide behind ‘cryptic names’.
The reason I said your poem is complex is that there are three apparently very different ‘episodes’ and connections between them are not immediately obvious. But there are connections. Poetry lives by lateral rather than obvious connections. The main thread I see running through the poem appears in some key words and phrases: ‘tie them’, ‘tethered to his hands’, ‘bound but not gagged’, ‘slaves’, ‘tyrants’. Is it going too far to say the poem is about aspects of power?
I’ll leave it at that for now. I’m sure there’s more to say; the poem is rich and stimulating and I’ve a way to go with it yet. I haven't even mentioned the slim form of the verse, which I'm not entirely sure about. If you get back to me you can put me right where I’ve gone wrong, and we can maybe have a dialogue. I hope other members will join in too.
James.
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 TessaF at 23:00 on 04 December 2012
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Hi Jibunessa - this is certainly an interesting poem.
I am only guessing here but I wondered if the form of the poem might represent smoke rising? There is something almost ritualistic about the poem: someone is bound, bay leaves are burned, smoke curls upwards, chickens are waiting to be slaughtered.
Then in the last part you talk about personal attacks on the internet; we are all trapped inside this cage and certainly some very innocent people have been victimised and abused by others - is this like a modern day ritualistic slaughter?
I'm really interested to know if I have come close to the intention of the poem? It's one to come back to.
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Jibunnessa at 15:47 on 05 December 2012
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Thanks James, thanks Tessa.
Very interesting comments. Glad you both like the poem. And that it's stimulated such vivid contemplation.
I will respond more fully to some of the things you both say very soon.
Thank you for taking the time to elaborate to such extent.
Jibunnessa
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 Dave Morehouse at 15:33 on 06 December 2012
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Hi Jibunnessa. Love the powerful images in this poem. They are unique and descriptive led by the verbs which start each stanza. They seem meant to engage the reader and they accomplish that task perfectly. "Take, scratch, burn, watch, walk, see" are impossible to ignore or gloss over.
Slaves
that peck
at
each other’s
eyes
bound
but
not gagged
except
for
the
silent
particles
of
futility
colonising
their veins.
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This narration is different. It leads us away and we become observers rather than participants. I like the change. It weems a summation to me. Then you ask this question:What
is
the
colour
of
this
cage?
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I must confess to getting lost at this point. Don't take it to heart though; I'm known for being a bit thick at times. Still, I would be interested in reading your thoughts about it. Thanks for sharing, Dave.
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 V`yonne at 13:05 on 12 January 2013
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the
digital
invisibility
cloaks
that turn
slugs
into
tyrants
with teeth. |
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Oh I know a few of those!
I am not a fan of poems that take this form unless the writer has a good reason to do it. It seems to have become a fashionable thing. I'd be interested in your reasons but even so I think variation would be better for the flow of the poem unless you convince me otherwise... I think that:
Take my hands and tie them to
those butterfly wings
that quiver
beneath my chest |
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works every bit as well but maybe that's just me. I liked the images you use throughout.
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 Midnight_Sun at 15:30 on 15 January 2013
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Hi Jibbunessa,
did this poem come from a free-writing exercise? Some of the images are so unusual but I think it works really well.
I enjoyed the lines
What
is
the
colour
of
this
cage?
our feet
splayed
in
confused
directions
Which reminds me of the fact that most of our communication is made up of body-language, so in the 'cyber-cage', if you will, there is no room for proper communication. With our 'feet splayed in confused directions'. This claustrophobic feeling seems to be reflected in the layout, it's as if the page is so cramped there is no room for anymore than one or two words per line and this also seems to reflect the cramped conditions of battery hens.
Anyway, that's my tuppence worth, probably completely off the mark but I did enjoy reading it, so thanks for sharing it 
Patricia
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