Poetry / Skinless, boneless, chicken

That is a lovely critique!  One of my favorites, ever… to be called both sinister and tender at once.  What a talent for spartan compliment!

TNX!  

No, no, no, you’ve caught right on to it!  That is precisely the effect I wanted, thank you, so can you suggest something that would strengthen that distracted quality in the middle, and then the snap! back to the present?  

Kewl.  Thanks so much!

ae

I don’t know if this will work, and there’s no way to purge comments back out, so I apologize in advance… what about making the three in the middle italicized, like so (if this works):

It was a simple enough question
I didn’t expect to end up
Defining myself
Bored and condemning
It is acid on me, slow and burning

withstand your withering gaze

Cannot endure your dissatisfaction
And I cave in by chunks, collapse
On the nothing within

Cannot escape it all, or any
That would require courage,
And I have only this bluffing[/i]

You asked what was for dinner
I choked with recognition
Skinless, boneless, chicken

nope, didn’t work.  rats.

What if you indent those three stanzas, so that they stand within the beginning and ending moment, but create a distinct inward moment in and of themselves?

Yeah, that’s good.  I’ll do that.  Thanks, Brian.

ae

Thank you for your kind assessment!

TNX!
ae

chicken is metaphorical for the self, faced with toxic teenage contempt with a total lack of armor, fortitude or courage.  

Appreciate the input, but I have to disagree, though I acknowledge the subjectivity of this, especially with regard to poetry.  I prefer the Spartan school of thought, where one uses no more than necessary. Not that I practice it perfectly, because I am verbose, but this was a pretty satisfying effort at keeping things slim.

I think if you didn’t get the last stanza, you’ve missed the whole point of the poem, so I may have to rethink it.  It is not spelled out, because I like for the reader to bring some of their own to the piece, but I don’t wish to be so oblique as to obscure the meaning.  The chicken is perfectly metaphorical for the speaker’s lack of defenses or fortitude or courage.  Skinless, boneless, chicken.  What does it feel like when someone you love so much treats you with contempt?  We do not employ the same defenses with our trusted loved ones, and hence we are more likely to be caught exposed and vulnerable.  And for those who may already have vulnerabilities, adolescent attitude can be nearly lethal.  Even if the kids mean no harm.

Thank you for your thoughtful input.

TNX!

I too often forgo capitals & punctuation.  I let each poem tell me if it wants that stuff.  Usually, if something can be understood easily without it, I leave it off.  I just noticed that your first stanza could be read “It was a simple enough question [that] I didn’t expect to end up defining [by] myself.”  Just a small thing, actually.  I really don’t think you need to add punctuation to make it clear though.
As to the meaning of the poem, I definitely see what’s going on with the poem’s speaker – that comes across very well.  I just think the other figure, the contemptuous lover, is sketchy as a character.  I’d like to see some of his contempt a little more directly.  All subjective of course.  The bottom line is that it’s a good poem either way.  :)

Oh, you are so right!  Good call on that!

TNX!
ae

Ha!  That’s great.  No, it’s totally metaphorical.  No skin to protect, no bones to hold her up, and chicken…well, no guts!

I wish it had a little “like it or lump it!”

tnx.

I’m happy too as some of my candid reviews upset ‘creators.’

Your poem was about a chicken meal. I wrote this story about dogfood & put it on urbis fopr review last year.

DOG FOOD
   Sunday mid morning we put some food in the car & were about to leave & my wife reminded me that we were to take the skinny stray puppy with us. Kimbe 1976 on the Island of West New Britain. Our back fence was the jungle & the skinny runt had appeared out of the jungle a few days before & started eating some of our dog’s food. Justice didn’t mind but we didn’t want a mangy dog hanging around our place so we were going to take him for a ride.  Justice was a huge black dog. We’d been given him in Mt Hagen. He had arrived safely in Finschafen were we stayed for 6 months & he had got over to Kimbe safely & moved in with us after a boat ride. He was a calm adaptable fellow. We drove thru the spread out township. A few shops most of them painted a particular shade of brownish orange to closely match the colour of bettle nut spittle. I have chewed the nut a few times & it’s ok. I suppose. The locals especially the elderly love chewing bettle & they spit anywhere & everywhere. The bettle palm is beautiful slender elegant like an oversized green bamboo. I tried to bring some plants back into Australia but customs confiscated them. We have a few young palms growing in the garden now but I wish I could have planted clumps of bettle nuts many years ago.
   That afternoon we were going to Robert’s place. Robert Lee was a Chinese sole trade in a small community. His trade store fronted on to a grassed area large enough to play a game of footy, but there were no posts at that time. A pretty sweet blonde Australian girl & her 2 young blonde daughters had moved in with Robert a few years before. The girls played nicely with our 3 year old daughter so it was always a pleasure going there for lunch & a chat. We still have photos of the girls in our family album. Robert turned the diesel generator on to keep the beer & frozen goods cold. It was bloody noisy when he did that & that killed the conversation. That was the signal for an upturn in business & so it was time for us to go. My wife said, ‘we’ve got to get rid of that dog on the way home.’ Robert said, ‘what dog?’ So we showed him.
   I opened the lid & he had a looked at the boney young thing & agreed that it wasn’t much of a specimen. He said, ‘that’s fine. It will fatten up good.’ He shouted out in pidgin & some of the locals showed an interest. He shook my hand & went back into his store. Young men were carrying cartons back to their village. A young boy came over & I gave him the string & he led the pup around. An old woman lifted up her long skirt & began collecting contributions. My wife was delighted as she likes money. I got into the car & said, ‘this is bullshit. The dog isn’t worth money. And these people have got buggar all. I’m not taking their money.’ My wife thought the whole situation was funny & she started laughing. Robert had shot through so he didn’t know what was going on.
   Soon enough the old women with her dress full of coins & notes came to my car door offering payment. She had the young boy & puppy with her. He must have been her grandson. They had collected quite a lot of cash. If Robert had been present he would have handed it over. I looked at the old woman. She had an earnest look on her face as if to say, is this enough? I thought about it. I thought well, I suppose I could take token payment so I said, ‘20 toya enough.’She looked puzzled. I said again, ’20 toya enough.’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The young boy reached into her skirt & solemnly passed me 20 toya. I nodded. The deal was done. The old woman took a few second to register what had happened & then began to skip & dance & sing, ‘20 toya enup, 20 toya enup.’  I started up the car & she whirled in front of us & the people seated on the grass got up & danced & sang with her. We left the whole crowd dancing & singing. Maybe they still tell they story about how they got a puppy for fattening for only 20 cents.