September poetry challenge – Day 4

I don’t use bookmarks though I should

This isn’t the page you’d been reading;
This isn’t the familiar place…
And now it’s too late for pleading.

You believed you were succeeding,
Except for you messed up the pace.
This isn’t the page you’d been reading.

Used to know where things were leading.
Old creases – gone without a trace,
And now it’s too late for pleading.

You left – the hero was bleeding.
Time to wipe that grin off your face –
This isn’t the page you’d been reading.

Despite that anger is breeding,
You don’t have that much of a case,
And now it’s too late for pleading.

Ask how you should be proceeding –
I’d say, let’s just cut to the chase,
This isn’t the page you’d been reading,
And now it’s too late for pleading.

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Djelloul Marbrook: The Body Language of Poetry

Vox Populi

Don’t gesticulate with your hands or make faces when speaking, the teachers at my British boarding school told me. It’s vulgar. I’m sure that this enjoinder at such an impressionable age imbued my poems with reticence and austerity.

But poetry has a body language. The poet’s way of breathing supplies oxygen to the body and to the poem. The poet’s way of walking and talking is inherent in the poem. I knew a poet who walked like the prow of a ship cutting through waves, the bone in its teeth, as sailors say, and that how her poems walked and talked.

The body language of a poem is also shaped by the script used in its writing. If it was first written by hand the poet’s hand, the stops and starts, the way I’s are dotted and t’s crossed, lives in the poem. If the poem was first typed, the…

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