"He was quiet,
A bit of a loner.
He kept himself to himself.
We never had any trouble with him.
A devoted son.
A good neighbour".
Then,
From behind picket fences
Bared like rows of white teeth,
And curtains secured with jerks and
Veiled with nets,
Their uncertainties will grow.
From their deckchairs splayed on lawns
Restrained by clipped spruce hedges,
And from magnolia stained rooms
With titanic televisions
That mumble through the night,
Someone will be bound to say:
"He was a bit of an odd fish".
And then teacups will clatter into saucers,
As they recount, around
Mouthfuls of custard creams
(In tabloid detail)
How I painted the door,
Red.
© GB 2007
About Me
- Gino Brignoli
- London, United Kingdom
- I am a recent Biodiversity and Conservation graduate from Birkbeck with an interest in entomology. I volunteer in the Lepidoptera department at the Natural History Museum.
11 comments:
Very intriguing Gino! It drew me in with my interpretations in full stride.
I had two scenarios appear dominant for me. One was quirky, one was dark. In the dark, the red was blood.
I enjoyed this piece a great deal.
--and so it goes--
...Rob
Yes there are definitely two stories there - is it a small town community scared by anyone with any individuality, or something much more sinister?
An ironic look at the workings of suburbia. Neighbourly friction does seem to be on the rise. Well written.
Perils of our times. Do we really know the real face behind the one we see?
I like the way you leave open the possibility that they will be talking about you! A lot of memorable lines here.
Fabulous provocative poem! I agree with Rob - I first thought of the bright cheery red that my desk is painted; then I thought of blood; perhaps he murdered someone or was murdered himself.
"And then teacups will clatter into saucers,
As they recount, around
Mouthfuls of custard creams"
great descriptive lines!
I love it. What more can I say? Just love your poems!
Adored the last two lines~
Tom
Beautifully crafted lines that build...suspenseful, unnerving, charming. I like that complexity.
From the second stanza, with the picket fences with rows like white teeth, I was hooked! I also love the "mouthfuls of custard creams." Great portrait!
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