Thursday, April 05, 2007

Writer's Diary #23- No Talent, Another Cathartic Poem (First draft)

It was the voice of hockey to speak
whispers, threats of winter wind.
In summers I had wind slapped cheeks.
“The sun,” I said. My pride, my sin.

In summers I had faked my skill
at sonnets and impressionist
paintings. Life was no big deal
but there was plenty I had missed.

When I was filled with arrogance
convinced that I was not a puck
I asked a lady for a dance,
demurely she said, “fly to fuck.”

I tried for a part in Pinter’s The Room
and didn’t get it.

3 comments:

Barbara Bruederlin said...

I think we all feel that we fake out skills, so that certainly rings true.

And I quite like "the voice of hockey to speak whispers".

John Mutford said...

It's the Canadian in me- sometimes I fake at that as well.

Allison said...

"The voice of hockey to speak whispers" is a great line, also "Life was no big deal but there was plenty I had missed."

I have to agree, I think its a rare few who never feel that they fake skills. Especially when I dealing in the arts do I feel that way.