Scarlett Treat

Rookie - 22 Points (1941 / Jug Fork, Mississippi)

Running, Running, Running - Poem by Scarlett Treat

The motel was ragged
With weeds grown all around.
Bottles, beer cans and crack pipes
Littered the unkempt ground.

The neon sign blinked constantly,
With its broken bulbs
Flashing its tilted playing card sign,
'One-eyed Jack's Motel.'

Drunks and dopers littered the steps,
Like so much city trash not picked up,
But it was home to her,
The only safe haven she knew.

The rooms were droopy
And sad, with their broken tile,
Cracked porcelain and seedy beds,
Soaked with the real smell of defeat.

She had run, and run, and run,
Just to get away from him - -
His hard, cruel pounding fists,
His cold, angry, hate-filled eyes.

But now, after a month of cowering here
In this motel's filth and degradation,
Waiting for his hot breath on her neck,
Somehow she knew she would never escape.


Comments about Running, Running, Running by Scarlett Treat

  • (4/26/2009 5:19:00 PM)


    This is a good effort, Scarlett. And I've read the previous comments.

    'Somehow she knew she would never escape.' This line seems to beg the question: Will she escape, or not? Unless I missed something, the poem doesn't answer that, although it does appear to lean toward No. But it seems too tentative.

    I think I understand something of your intentions, and I think I understand the comments. Some famous poet (forget who) once said that a poem is never finished, it's just abandoned. Somehow, I get the feeling this poem is unfinished. Perhaps, someday you could revisit it.
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  • Ernestine Northover (5/23/2006 3:35:00 PM)


    What a sad ending Scarlet, but a truly effective write. Wonderfully pictured, in the telling of her life. Love Ernestine XXX (Report) Reply

  • (5/16/2006 10:15:00 AM)


    You owe it to readers to search for a better explanation and response.

    There are young women who don't know about batterers, and young wives who don't know there is help available.

    (Sure, not as vivid a poem. Maybe. But the payoff is spectularly more significant. You could save a life. And win a star for yourself!)

    Yes, there is an existential truth to the feeling of inevitability that surrounds this awful syndrome. And you describe it very pointedly here.

    But - life sucks. How do we get up when we have been knocked down? What allows us to go on?

    If nothing, then the poem, which is like a panting fox in a hedge, waiting for the dogs to rip it apart, is an indulgence.

    If something - standing up for onself, seeking help, reaching out to other women who have likewise been made to feel like victims, worthless, trapped - then that desperately needs to be gotten out to others.

    Man will always be men - not all men, but a lot of them. So women have to get wise, and to share wisdom with one another. It's a matter of life and death-in-life.



    (Tips - lose 'so much' - and simplify the diction elsewhere. And the rhyme in stanza one prepares the reader for a different kind of poem. And tighten the final stanza - it wants to stun us, not enervate us.)
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  • (5/15/2006 12:51:00 PM)


    A terrific poem, great imagery and emotion. -chuck (Report) Reply

  • (5/13/2006 8:25:00 AM)


    Choice can be such a difficult thing, Where do we go? , How can we be? How can we move and move on? What is moving on? Where is self-worth if not within?
    A great write that offers and address's the reader with so many poingent questions.
    Well done Love Duncan X
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  • (5/11/2006 9:29:00 AM)


    You've captured a place, person and situation very realistically, Scarlett - very powerfully. I'm feeling her anguish in this write. A departure for you and a great one at that! (Spelling check: last line - degredation is 'degradation') . Love, Esther (Report) Reply

  • (5/11/2006 7:08:00 AM)


    A great atmospheric poem. You can almost see the sordid motel and feel the subject's sense of despair (Report) Reply

  • (5/11/2006 3:41:00 AM)


    I know Scarlett I have been there and worn the T Shirt, I will tell you some time, it's funny how God answers ones calling, a truely great poem. (Report) Reply

  • (5/11/2006 3:34:00 AM)


    This poem positively reeks of aggression, fear, and squalor! ! ! I had to hold my nose half-way through, Scarlett! !
    Well-portrayed picture of entrapment in a well-made, powerful piece of writing.
    Love,
    Gina.
    (Report) Reply

  • (5/11/2006 3:11:00 AM)


    Scarlett. you set the scene perfectly. I can almost hear Robbie Robertson's drawl, pouring these first three verses out as a revised intro to, 'Somewhere down the crazy river'. Then the sad realisation of a rock and a real hard place. Knowing how, where and why you wrote this, is a wee bit of a distraction from the piece. Next time, be a little more secretive?
    Danny
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  • (5/11/2006 12:55:00 AM)


    The unfortunate fact of the matter is most women remain in abusive relationships.
    In my experience living in apartment buildings, there were constant domestic squabbles (verbal & physical assaults) occurring on a regular basis, next door, the next flight up, etc. Sometimes the female would leave, then eventually, after a while would return. It became commonplace, and generally acceptable behaviour. But enough about that, I'm yapping too much. Will tell more of these stories later in e-mail correspondence, Scarlett.

    The poem itself is a well-thought out, truthful depiction of a subject all too close to home, that everyone probably has encountered along the way. Not to go heavily into the scientific reasoning behind the love / hate problem, but briefly, the human brain is comprised of a reptilian base with the larger mammalian cerebral cortex attached, and therein lies the conflicting predicament. I know, over-analysing once again. So you had asked me for my thoughts on the topic...ask and ye shall receive. lol...well, maybe just a little.

    In one of those moods tonight,
    With mind in overdrive,

    Greg XXO
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  • (5/10/2006 6:57:00 PM)


    An excellent descriptive poem, written straight from the subconscious. Great job, not a thing wrong with it.
    Best
    H
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  • (5/10/2006 6:23:00 PM)


    'Soaked with the real smell of defeat.' Jesus, that's a powerfully descritive line from a powerful poem. Excellent, Red Bird. Love, Jerry (Report) Reply

  • (5/10/2006 5:54:00 PM)


    Sounds like hotel Poemhunter somehow, or California? lol A very poignant read indeed Scarlett. I gotta get out of this place! running? skipping more like, it such a playground. 10 from enjoying your work tonight, Tai (Report) Reply

  • (5/10/2006 5:24:00 PM)


    Wow! I have never seen anything like this from you before - and I am very pleseantly surprised. I loved the sharp simplicity and the fact that you didn'y shy away from the harsh truth. Wonderful Scarlett, well done.
    Hugs
    Anna xxx
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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Poem Edited: Thursday, May 11, 2006


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