Breakfast at Bobbie McGee’s, Life Options

[Arnfinn]

A few weeks ago Pam and I spent a few days in Canberra. Our venue for breakfast was the hotel’s restaurant, Bobbie McGee’s. One morning whilst we were eating breakfast I noticed a puny macho business man sitting at a table on my left. Later a stunning young redheaded woman sat opposite the man, who was obviously a company executive.



Breakfast at Bobbie McGee’s

He sat on the other side,
though his head was somewhere
between the third button on her
green blouse and half parted pink lips.

A red headed beauty;
a babe crawling amongst old growth—
next weeks work performance topic
around a company board table.

She, at her plate,
Green eyed, neck flounced ringlets,
shaped white linen from waist to knee.
Unpainted fingers cuddling curved
handles.

He mouthed sideways,
phone mid shoulder and ear: expression
for impression— mind on the evenings
project. He winked and gave a sickly
smile.

Arnfinn

[Guest_Gregory_*]

John, this was a scene from a movie it seems. Only thing is we get a good idea of the mind set of the man, sleazy though it is, and we get a good idea of what the woman looks like, in all her regalia. but we don't really get much of what is happening for the woman and the man seems two-dimensional himself. The whole scene seems to be a judgement of the characters on the part of the N, and a rather stereotypical one. I know its meant to be, because that's what you saw, a sleaze bag eyeing off , and showing off to a gorgeous redhead. Only thing is I see this all the time, and therefore there is nothing new about this. The potential to create something interesting here is enourmous, in fact read some Henry Miller to get an idea. What is interesting about the woman, well frankly, nothing except that she has no paint on her fingernails. I am left with nothing but her colour scheme, why not describe my wallpaper? The man just leaves me with his 'sickly' smile, and I wonder if that is not just a judgement on the narrators part rather than an apt or interesting description. Not much in this poem I would keep, even the line 'a babe crawling amongst old growth' sounded like she should be a baby kangaroo trying to get to its mothers bushy pouch or teat. Sorry, but I found only cliche in this, perhaps you could try get inside the mind (not the head) of both rather than stay inside the mind of the narrator. Gregory

[Arnfinn]

John, this was a scene from a movie it seems. Only thing is we get a good idea of the mind set of the man, sleazy though it is, and we get a good idea of what the woman looks like, in all her regalia. but we don't really get much of what is happening for the woman and the man seems two-dimensional himself. The whole scene seems to be a judgement of the characters on the part of the N, and a rather stereotypical one. I know its meant to be, because that's what you saw, a sleaze bag eyeing off , and showing off to a gorgeous redhead. Only thing is I see this all the time, and therefore there is nothing new about this. The potential to create something interesting here is enourmous, in fact read some Henry Miller to get an idea. What is interesting about the woman, well frankly, nothing except that she has no paint on her fingernails. I am left with nothing but her colour scheme, why not describe my wallpaper? The man just leaves me with his 'sickly' smile, and I wonder if that is not just a judgement on the narrators part rather than an apt or interesting description. Not much in this poem I would keep, even the line 'a babe crawling amongst old growth' sounded like she should be a baby kangaroo trying to get to its mothers bushy pouch or teat. Sorry, but I found only cliche in this, perhaps you could try get inside the mind (not the head) of both rather than stay inside the mind of the narrator. Gregory

Hi Gregory,

You've made some interesting observations?

The truth is I'm writing about an aged pervert.
Sure, I agree my poem is a narrative-- so I've a perverted mind. Though at the time, all the action that was going on was in full consultation with my wife, which lets me off the hook a bit.
I said to Pam, (after discussion), Hey, this would make a great poem!

I thought the way I'd written the poem was suggestive enough, a situation as thus, has to be succinct.

I can't say, No to be concise, I've never read Henry Miller, but I assure you I'll look him up and have a read.

My favourite poet for sensual unperversed/perversed reading is T.S. Eliot.

How's this for an example.

T.S.Eliot

La Figlia Che Piange


Stand on the highest pavement of the stair-
Lean on a garden urn-
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair- <<< I think this line is fantastic/brilliant
Clasp your flowers to you with pained surprise-
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a figitive resentment in you eyes <<< Again brilliance in a simple phrase.
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.<<< Again classical Eliot.

So I would have had him leave,
So I would have had her stand and grieve,
So he would have left
As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised <<< This conjures up a memory perhap?
As the mind deserts the body it has used. <<< Absolute brilliance.

This is the sort of poetry, is more or less what you expected.

Mate, there is no way I ,could ever, write something like this.

Hey, you set a high standard.

I love poetry. I spend about a day a week putting pen to paper. I dont want recognition.

This is the only poetry site I belong to, because I believe it's the best.

sO i JUST DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO me best

Your a good bloke mate, because you speak your mind. n' I love ya (hey don't take that personally) but I think ya missed the point in ya crit.

So lets shake hands n' be friends

Good on ya.




John