The Unwanted

She asked me to so I went with her Caught the red bus Smiled feebly at the red sky and tried to chat in soothing tones that only came out girlish garish hashish in the end Watched the hospital flash by Said she couldn’t go there Scared of the tracks on her arms Found the broken-down crumbling-out house and squeezed her tiny hand so tight thought I’d broken it Tried to chat in soothing tones as he he he strapped her legs up out forever wide nothing to hide In he went and so did I trying not to think of tiny hands mushed in a jar Just chatted in soothing tones until the screams and the blood red blood red blood red took over the sky and became the world and she was quiet Quiet like just before the applause Quiet like dirt on a coffin Quiet like red sky Quiet And I saw the unwanted in a red pile of abused love And I ran I ran so fast so far I ran My feet pounding the pavement so hard I hoped my womb would fall out Run so far to where it could never follow me and fill me with another me to make the same mistakes I’ve made.
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21 Comments

Filed under Fiction, Poetry, Sex, Women/Feminist, Writing

21 responses to “The Unwanted

  1. Paul Baylay

    Wow. I am speechless. I almost feel like I am intruding by just commenting. Sometimes silence is the best answer.

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  2. I agree with Paul above. Silence is the best reaction to this piece. It’s awesome. I should not be drawing parallels, perhaps because it is a cliché amongst commentators, but you sound a lot like Samuel Beckett.

    Certainly one of the best abstract pieces I have read in any blog.

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  3. Deb

    This is so powerful and wrenching, Simonne. But like Paul and Ritwik, I think I’ll leave my comment at that and think about it in my silence.

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  4. V-

    How do you do that? How do cause me to feel that much pain, dispair, sadness, and understanding with just a few words? You have an amazing gift.

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  5. poseidonsmuse

    This has to be the most cathartic morning that I have experienced in Blogland thus far. Beautiful writing…Script worthy of a surrealist Bosch painting…Wow!

    Speechless. [I sit, dumbfounded beneath that Apocalyptic red sky…I feel pain, and seething loss…]. Thank you for allowing me to feel this today Simonne. I am thankful for Life.

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  6. I can only agree with everything said above.

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  7. Oh yes, Simonne. Nothing more needs to be said. I “get” it, absolutely.

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  8. “My feet pounding the pavement so hard I hoped my womb would fall out ” clinched this piece, Simonne. Well done (and devastating).

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  9. S- I love the technique you used here to reiterate just how disturbed and random one’s thoughts can be in a situation such as this. I’ve said it before that you are good, but this piece is one of the best I’ve read in awhile. Your mind works well this way, keep it flowing, and we’ll drink it in.
    kim

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  10. I wasn’t expecting such a strong response to this poem, thanks everyone.
    Ritwik, that’s surely the best compliment on my writing I think I’ve ever received, I’m humbled. (And I wish I could invite some old Uni lecturers to have a look! especially Elizabeth Jolley, whom I never found at all jolly.)
    V, thank you.
    Muse, thank you too. I’m glad you’re grateful for life; that’s a great state to be in!
    Thanks Oscar.
    Kim, I love your poetry so so much, so a compliment like that from you is affirmation indeed, thank you so much. I’ll try to flow like that again. These pieces are rare and random and definitely chanelled, so will call in the writing Angels again soon 🙂

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  11. Pingback: Depression: the tiger in the dark « unrelenting ambiguity

  12. Simonne….this is breathtaking. I can’t even describe what happened to my emotional self while I was reading it. Having had an abortion myself, this was a perfect ‘snapshot’, energetically, of that moment in time. BRAVO, Goddess. Your creativity never fails to astound me!

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  13. Oh Grace, thank you. I have no personal experiences with abortion, but lots of empathy. Much love to you.

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  14. You brought back memories in sharp detail. Yes, to it all.
    WC

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  15. Just dropping in to say hello – looks like it might have been a bad time to do so – so many raw feelings. No, I’ve never had an abortion but you have sent me away with a sense of sadness in my heart.

    I feel for the woman in the – poem?

    Peace, love and understanding.

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  16. Hi WC and Ruby, thanks for stopping in. Don’t be sad Ruby! x

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  17. Dawn

    Wow – you are compared to Beckett! I don’t know what to say. You certainly do touch people Simonne – and I don’t know too many that Jolley touched – I would have your writing over hers a zillion times over – never did get why she won awards and was so revered.

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  18. That is just so painful…….I look at your photo and your smile and I read those words……I cant put them together……the pain of it is astounding….bless you.

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  19. “You sound like Samuel Beckett” says someone above. I have been reading a lot of Samuel Beckett lately. There is this question about grammar and thought. I do not think in sentences. I don’t think anyone does. Your piece is much closer to a true depiction of the process of thought than any grammar grannie will ever write. One day I am going to back over my site ( I am training myself to not say the word ‘blog’ anymore) and fish out all the writers my work has been compared to, it’s incredible. You don’t sound like Beckett, you sound like you thinking in someone else’s brain.

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  20. I do like that about your writing Paul. Your style is so unique.

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  21. Pingback: Blogiversary! « into the quiet

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