|
|
|
|
| |
Alice, not trusting memory to betray her completely,
Set watchmen on far hills to light signal fires;
And every time the fires burned, she lost
Another memory, and cried a little more madly.
She had telephones installed in every room;
The people she hired took the messages.
She walked in the garden, trying to lose things,
And cursed the postman when he returned them.
She called for carpenters and ironmongers
And had bars installed in front of every mirror
Except the one in the nursery, which she
Had managed yesterday to forget.
Alice, has this not gone far enough? See,
Here in front of the mirror, behind the bars,
It is teatime every day at four o'clock
And you have forgotten to have the clocks removed.
I am sitting here on your chaise longue,
Counting the fingers on the gloves I hold in my hand,
And I am tired of waiting for you to certify the results
So that I may go back to the door and knock again.
Take another spoonful of this medicine, Alice;
You are growing older and older, and must die.
I will send the servants away, and call the doctors;
You, for you part, must decide, over and over, whether to scream.
1970
Will Barber
|
|
User Rating: |
|
10.0
/10
(4 votes) |
|
|
|
|
| |
Click here to write your comments about this poem (Alice by Will Barber)
Esther Leclerc (3/10/2008 12:48:00 AM)
Worlds within worlds, where does it begin and end...
A very fluid read, calls to mind The Alice, as she might be years hence, not surprisingly.
So worth the read, Will. You capture mood, more, like nobody else. |
Ian Bowen (3/1/2008 2:55:00 AM)
Will, most enjoyable read. Some very 'telling' lines in your poem. Found the closure to be spot on.
Regards,
Ian |
Read all 2 comments >>
|
|
|
|
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend