I still don't know if I have figured out this form AND I have enjoyed the process. I find myself writing these in my head all the time, my inner narrator becoming the voice of The Dead Woman. Perhaps it is because I have lost another friend to cancer so recently.
Big Tent prompted me. You may see other poems from this prompt at their blog beginning on Friday.
This is actually the third poem I have written but since only two have been put on paper, I am titling it:
Dead Woman Poem #2
The dead woman looked at her daughter from inside the mirror.
Her daughter turned her head just slightly, inspecting the pleading
green eyes that stared back at her in the silvery glass.
Was she looking for non-existent wrinkles?
The dead woman wished she could touch the skin, help her, somehow.
She waited and stared. She stared and waited.
Her daughter turned.
The dead woman would have cried if she had functioning tear ducts.
The dead woman would have chased her daughter if she had feet
The dead woman would have held on to life if she thought it was possible.
The dead woman no longer lived.
The dead woman thought, "I am not writing these poems in the right way."
The dead woman thought, "What is the right way, anyway."
The dead woman watched her daughter turn off the light
as she left for work at a job she hated.
She saw her daughter hesitate and turn, confused,
looking toward the mirror in the bathroom.
Slowly, the daughter shut the door and turned the
key from the outside.
+++++
follow me on twitter: @juliejordanscot
Heartbreaking. You have entered into the very depths of the prompt, and produced a little gem of a poem.
Posted by: vivienne blake | December 17, 2010 at 02:41 AM
For a poem about a Dead Woman, there was a lot of life here.
Posted by: mark | December 17, 2010 at 05:04 AM
Hey Julie, goodness, someone has been a naughty girl and been locked in the potty. There is so much here to digest and yet it is satisfying after the first bite. Good job. Merry Christmas.
Regards, Don
Posted by: Donald Harbour | December 17, 2010 at 06:16 AM
Julie,
First of all I am so sorry about your friend.
I love what you have written here. You have painted quite the story.
Pamela
Posted by: pamela | December 17, 2010 at 09:12 AM
Whether the letter of the form was followed or not is fairly unimportant compared to whether your poem worked, to me. I think it did everything it set out to do, with considerable grace.
Posted by: Hedge Witch | December 17, 2010 at 09:23 AM
A clever little film for the reader. Very visual.
Posted by: Donna Vorreyer | December 17, 2010 at 10:42 AM
Isn't it great that we exist in a time that encorages us to abide by the spirit of the law, rather than be bound by its letters of adherence? I love your poem and the feelings you have caught within its web. That of most mothers who worry if they have given their daughters enough to get them through whatever they are facing. We most often forget that our daughters learn far more by example than from what we tell them. Your's is an example of beauty and emotion.
Elizabeth
Posted by: Elizabeth | December 17, 2010 at 02:29 PM
Enjambment makes me a little crazy, sometimes! There's a lot of energy in this poem and it truly does make a fine read!
Posted by: Tumblewords | December 17, 2010 at 06:41 PM
Whatever the form requires doesn't matter as far as I can see. You've told a poignant story and written a beautiful poem.
Posted by: Victoria (liv2write2day) | December 17, 2010 at 07:58 PM
I've concluded (maybe in error, but so what?) that the Dead Man Poem is NOT a form, it is a jumping off point, like an image or a piece of music.
I like your poem. It is true, we see out own angst reflected back at us when we look at others. Sometimes it looks as if they are hurt or angry or bored, maybe hungry. When it is your own tummy that starts growling, that is the clue.
Posted by: barbara | December 18, 2010 at 06:16 AM