Found Poem

Poem dated March 11, 2002. Written in my journal as a rough draft and edited in place. It was a self-confessed overdue assignment for a poetry class that I was taking. It says more about my life at the time than it does about the poem. Could be the answer to why I journal.

Assignment: Analyze Elvis in Hell by Michael Waterson.

My response:

Analyze the poem on Elvis
Imagery dances;
Creates a time, a life,
A memory.
Interesting vantage point
From hell.
Where and what is hell?
Could it be one’s visage
On velvet?
Would love to revel
In analysis
But first. . .
Cull anchor papers
From three hundred
Sixth grade MCAS writing
Train others to score according
To a rubric.
Eye straining hours.
Grades closing.
Badger kids
For missing work.
Final tests, marks
To average; comments to
Agonize over.
In a world of ADHD,
504’s, IEP’s, outside counseling,
One grade
To paint a picture
Of a child.
Work. Only a moment
In a crowded life.
Aging parents – pneumonia
In Dad’s lungs.
Cook meals, do laundry,
Run errands times two.
How long can they
Care for themselves?
Needs to answer on
All fronts. How many
Pieces can a woman
Be divided into?
Strange creatures
We are. . .
Just when we think
We’re totally allocated
A new need pops up;
The pie is resliced
And we find
Yet another sliver.
As for Elvis. . .
A picture was painted
With a few words.
I see him, feel his
Pain as his life,
His work, is parodied, cheapened.
Hell is being the
Warm up act.
Images sharpen and blur
As the mental kaleidoscope shifts.
Elvis lives again for
A moment in time.


About Mary Jane

I am a retired English teacher. My husband, Frank, and I have lived on Cape Cod since 2000. I am a lifelong bread baker and writer and have been posting a blog on Falmouth Patch for the last few years. Savory Seasons has been largely devoted to recipes and food in general. I am hoping to expand my focus in this new blog.
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1 Response to Found Poem

  1. JoAnn says:

    Powerful….captures the essence of the struggles, anxieties, & responsibilities of a chaotic time in your life. I particularly like this imagery: “the pie is resliced and we find yet another sliver.”

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