Marked Men***(revised) Options

[RC James]

Through my fingers, as I kneel
to splash my face in the creek,
figures in stripes bend in labor
over rake and hoe in the field.

Unrelenting furrows confirm the ache
of forever in the inmates’ minds.
Indelible black stripes slash
white shirts and pants disarranging hope,
crossing out any advent of aid or mercy.

In files at sundown, they are spent,
rigid, mostly black, their lives abraded
by the uniform stripes as surely
as the creek erodes the stones beneath.




(original)

From the distance of the creek
the figures rise like tiny zebras;
they stand on hind legs and move
their front legs in lethargic rhythm.

Unrelenting, the furrows explore distance,
like the ache of a confirmed forever
that lacerates the minds of the inmates here,
hoes in hand, white caps, shirts and pants
slashed hard with indelible black stripes
that disarrange hope. Marked so, the sky
won't send down, soon, any aid or mercy.

They stand in files at sundown, they are spent,
rigid under the threat of the captain’s whip.
They are mostly black, and the uniform stripes
abrade their lives as surely as the currents
of this creek erode the stones beneath.

[Psyche]

Hi Richard,

Here I am, fascinated by your poem(s). Can't decide whether I like your rev. or your original best.

The original can do with a few tweaks to make it more concise, but your revision is so entirely different. I'm not opposed to narrative poetry at all. Your original has a lot more fine imagery, beginning with the zebras. Great comparison, poor men.

Do you mind if I return to have another read? It's 2 a.m. and I'm getting dimmer and dimmer.

Perhaps the events in your poem are of past times. The whipping and all that...

In my country prisoners don't wear striped garments, but I know they do (or did?) in the U.S.

Syl***