The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

 

Buzzing fills the jars with end of season urgency,

busy bodies bleeding into the jam I donated.

 

Three other wasps crowd around a lamp,

circle its sunflower glow until they halt

like dazed teenagers when the music stops.

 

The seasons work their way through my friends,

rough the surface of the bones and joints,

widen little tears in muscles, create fissures

and hang weights on their minds until thoughts

fizzle out like fireworks on damp days.

 

My address book is emptier than it was.

 

I catch the three wasps and place them

out where they belong. At night it rains

leaving corpses in preserve and water,

bloated and afloat, their energy spent.

I read a book called the Wasp Factory years ago, the title came to mind on reading your poem, though I can't remember what the book was about. I like the poem. It fades in and out of human/wasp realities, but gets inside the compulsions of both. Death shadows throughout the poem. The final act is cold and brutal or a kind release from deluded desperation? Playing god to impose a natural end. I did get a sense of N.'s increasing isolation, witnessing the disconnecting minds.

best

Phil

Thanks Matty, thoughtful comments.
I remember flicking through the wasp factory but also can't really remember it except it being some kind of horror story.
Dave
 

S3 & 4 are excellent. 
I'm confused by the bees though. S1 appears to be a trap to kill the wasps...but (in the last S) the N goes to the trouble of catching three to release? Even though 'the music stopped' I assume they were still alive?
I read The Wasp Factory a long time ago, and also have very vague memories of it...a disturbed youth is all I can remember! Might be worth another read.
Anywho, I enjoyed this read.
Happy Christmas Dave 

Challenging poem, Dave.  

These are wonderful lines, in a sobering kind of way:  "The seasons work their way through my friends // . . . My address book is emptier than it was."  This echoes the notion that the 'season' for the wasps is over as well - "bloated and afloat, their energy spent."  

Cheers.

T
 

Thanks for all the comments. A minor piece methinks. Colm, there are no bees as such and I did not intend any deaths so if that is the impression something is not quite right in the poem.
Dave

Dave wrote: ↑

Sun Jan 05, 2020 2:02 pm

Thanks for all the comments. A minor piece methinks. Colm, there are no bees as such and I did not intend any deaths so if that is the impression something is not quite right in the poem.
Dave

Bees...a typo, I meant wasps.
I read it (jar with jam) as a wasp trap, and the wasps caught in it drowned.

I like this write a lot, Dave - like Tracy says some wonderful lines, and a really difficult topic.

I read with interest your back and forth with Colm... It took your discussion with Colm for me to realize that there were wasps that N was happily feeding jam in jars, plus those "three" other wasps were the ones you caught and released to the outdoors, and to the elements.  So, I guess it is not totally clear... but actually a careful read has it is quite clear....... not sure how to fix that subtly.........  buzzing wasps can be very confusing .......

Aj    

Nice alliteration and imagery!

Wasps symbolize death of N's friends?

Thanks Ajduclos and poet-e: ideas to ponder, thanks. Poet-e yes.

Dave