Polly

Writings and Witterings

Life

| 20 Comments

Guards’ torches
Cut the bars,
Grim faces flicker.

Footsteps echo
Gazes, filter tipped.
Iron scrapes as

Keys turn and
Keys turn,
Heavy hinges

Creak
Isolation.
No way out on

Any level.
The wind howls around
Crenelated shadows.

Rain clamours in
Rhythmic tattoos.
No respite.

Polly Robinson © 2013

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20 thoughts on “Life

  1. Very grim. Very strong opening with torches cutting the bars. k.

  2. Wow, talk about a poem that invokes the senses. Wonderful!

  3. Wow, you took me to gaol. Such a strong piece, Polly.

  4. Clang! It shuts – judgement passed – the world a little safer :-)

  5. A grim and intimidating world. While working, I frequently had to visit a number of prisons to have face to face contacts required by the courts. You paint it so well.

    • That’s an interesting comment Lea. I know nothing of prisons save what I see on TV and thought about whether the doors still have keys or if maybe they have keypads. I decided it wasn’t overly important, but am glad it works for you with working knowledge. They seem ultra-grim places to me on so many levels. Thank you very much for commenting.

      • Interesting the question of keys versus keypads – I had the vision from your words that this was a period piece set somewhere back in time… Can’t pin my finger on why.

        • Ah, that’s good. I deliberately used the words ‘crenelated’ and ‘torches’ (rather than flashlights) to give the impression of bygone times ~ good that this, or something (?) worked for you, Holly. Definitely supposed to be an old (possibly French) prison …

  6. And I thought I wrote “unremitting” poetry! lol. Seriously, very powerful stuff… And I like that you leave it up to the reader to imagine the nature of the crime.

    • Ha! You know how keen I am to let the reader bring their own impression / interpretation to my poems ~ thanks for the comments, I like that you think this one ‘unremitting’ :)

      • Well it’s not exactly cheery, now is it? Read on a very grey and dreary Sunday morning… Didn’t do much to lift the mood! lol. But that’s a *good* thing in the case of this poem.

  7. Had to look up crenelated – fits well in this context. The mobile electronic dictionary has been coming in handy just lately: I’m reading Umbrella by Will Self.
    It feels to me like this is the prisoner’s POV, so I’m not picking up on the judgement angle – more the sense of ‘this is my fate’. It’s powerful for me in that sense.

    • Thanks Andy ~ heh-heh re dictionary / Will Self comment :)

      Yes, it is from the prisoners’ POV and while some will think about the judgement angle this was not a major theme in the poem. I think it handles itself as the scene is a prison. Glad to see it’s powerful from the prisoners’ POV.

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