[stylist] Poem: "Snuff"

[Miss Thea]

Ain't that the truth!
If you happen to be born blind, and your parents happen to be on the 
ignorant side, or your teachers are, you're not expected to make much out of 
yourself.
And if you should have any dreams about making it as a musician or writer, 
Heaven forfend!
Get back in your rocking chair, read your Braille book, and let's have no 
more of this nonsense.
Thea

-----Original Message----- 
From: William L Houts
Sent: Monday, March 10, 2014 8:46 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Poem: "Snuff"





Thanks, Bridgit, for such wise and loving advice.  You're so right; we
artists are so often brought up to despise our own work when what we
really need is a good hot mug of self-kindness.



--Bill






On 3/10/2014 5:38 PM, Bridgit Pollpeter wrote:
> Don't ever feel bad to say something you wrote is good. We should be
> able to recognize when we write something worthwhile, and there's
> nothing wrong with stating so.
>
> Bridgit
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L
> Houts
> Sent: Monday, March 10, 2014 6:51 PM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: [stylist] Poem: "Snuff"
>
>
> Hi Stylists,
>
> Here's a short poem I wrote last summer.It's interesting to me because I
>
> was using a lot of rhyme last summer and this one barely has any.  The
> subject matter isn't very pretty, but I think this one may be one of my
> best, even if it's bad form to say so, ha.
>
>
> --Bill
>
>
> --Bill
>
>
> ---
>
>
> The photo made me ill:that's how I knew.
>
> This was no gaffe, no show for the marks
>
> but murder:the plain motel bed,
>
> and the eyes, god the eyes of dephless X.
>
> Hewas naked,
>
> this man reduced to the size
>
> of someone's doll.The legs hung
>
> over the bed's edge, and he lay,
>
> his back flat, though beyond all rest,
>
> all sight, all knowing. As if only
>
> this camera, this eye
>
> and the knifelike eye
>
> behind it, unveiled how things really are:
>
> a mansion of rooms without pity,
>
> and their stunted ridiculous devils
>
> O reader, with your outraged eye
>
> you've had your monsters too:
>
> your heartsblood thieves, your killers,
>
> your stunted ridiculous devils
>
> O reader,with your dog-nose truth,
>
> your yes, your gifts of mending fire
>
> you are the hope for us all.
>
> and upon our stricken heads,
>
> the gracious rains fall.
>
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-- 
"Let's drink a toast now to who we really are."

           --Jane Siberry


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