Splat (triggers)

AlexBoyd

Registrant
Do you hear what I hear?
A song? No, it's a splat.
First, a big one--
The sound of his
Wet bathing suit
Landing on the concrete
Just outside the pool.
Then after a pregnant silence,
You hear some ripples
As his hands submerge
To strip mine.
Then, a much smaller splat.
It's a prelude
To a concert of splashes.

Our only coverings,
Pieces of fabric, side by side,
Resting many feet away.
Toes touching,
No barriers left.
My bare facing his hair.
He knows his dark curls
Hypnotize me,
As my eyes follow them
From one dark patch,
Up a trail, to another,
Up to his five o'clock shadow,
Ending at his eyes
Looking down at me
Like a steak dinner.
 

Iv0_An

Registrant
Oh, this is magnetic! Makes me see this prelude so clear, makes me feel what the men in the poem felt, makes me taste their desires... It's astonishing how deep, dark poetry you can write and then to grab all my attention here in so different manner. I admire your talent, Alex.
 
It's amazing how some brief memory of sound or sight or smell can bring back a feeling; sometimes a sense of dread, sometimes a fraction in time before the weirdness started. Like the sound of a wet bathing suit slapping onto concrete. I have similar memories around a private pool, splashing, yells of "Marco! Polo!", bare wet bodies climbing out to plunge in again. The Hi-Fi in the living room blasting, wafting the sounds of the Jackson-5 out to the pool, the empty box of Shakey's pizza, recently eaten. There will be time for play and sunshine before he expects his reward, later that evening.

Thank you, Alex. Your poems always resonate. A bring back a flash of memories that have been long forgotten.
 
@AlexBoyd, Wow! This one captivated me.
It draws you in to the scene.
He knows his dark curls
Hypnotize me

Strongly related to this! He knew exactly what
he was doing with the opportunity he created.
Amazingly strong! Thanks, for another great one! LRD
 

AlexBoyd

Registrant
Oh, this is magnetic! Makes me see this prelude so clear, makes me feel what the men in the poem felt, makes me taste their desires... It's astonishing how deep, dark poetry you can write and then to grab all my attention here in so different manner. I admire your talent, Alex.
Thanks, Ivo. I would say that this one is dark in its own way. Perhaps it just explores a different facet of darkness than my other poetry.
 

ODAT

Registrant
It's amazing how some brief memory of sound or sight or smell can bring back a feeling; sometimes a sense of dread, sometimes a fraction in time before the weirdness started. Like the sound of a wet bathing suit slapping onto concrete. I have similar memories around a private pool, splashing, yells of "Marco! Polo!", bare wet bodies climbing out to plunge in again. The Hi-Fi in the living room blasting, wafting the sounds of the Jackson-5 out to the pool, the empty box of Shakey's pizza, recently eaten. There will be time for play and sunshine before he expects his reward, later that evening.

Thank you, Alex. Your poems always resonate. A bring back a flash of memories that have been long forgotten.

You remind me that nothing is free when you said “before he expects his reward.”
There was often a carrot dangled in front of me before I got the real carrot…
Sorry you had to feel that way. Thanks for sharing that story. R-
 

ODAT

Registrant
Alex,
Sometimes there’s an unexpected line that hits me like a ton of bricks (not in a bad way but just very powerful. In this case
It was the lines:
“Looking down at me
Like a steak dinner”
Great work. Took my breath away…
 

AlexBoyd

Registrant
@82Tango. Thanks for sharing your memory. It could be a poem in itself.
 

AlexBoyd

Registrant
@ODAT Yes, that line surprised even me. I was struggling to describe the expression on his face and that is what popped into my mind. Thanks for commenting.
 
Up to his five o'clock shadow,
Ending at his eyes
Looking down at me
Like a steak dinner.
Your poem is an incredibly visual poem. It paints with words, without directly mentioning what exactly is happening. But it's at the same time perfectly clear. And the end is simply chilling. Such a good poem.
 

AlexBoyd

Registrant
@LRD Thank you for understanding what I meant by that kind of hypnotism. In some ways it can stay with us even today.

@Darren White Yes, it did end up being a visual poem. I was trying to experiment with sound, but I can't seem to get away from being a visual thinker. Thanks for commenting.
 
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