Max Reif

Rookie - 18 Points (1948 / OVER 400 POEMS SERVED! !)

Working On A Poem With George - Poem by Max Reif

I got there strung out
on sleeplessness
and too much coffee.
I told him so,
saying I'd do my best,

and he said that was fine,
and giving me a glass
of water, led me to the glass
dining-room table, a stack
of papers and a pencil
waiting at each end.

He sat at one end,
I at the other,
and there we were.
My mind felt like a car
that revved and died,

but George proceeded calmly,
reading me the lines
he thought needed work.

My crippled mind gave me ideas,
and with nothing else to do
as time flicked by in the space,
the vast space between us,

I passed them on to George.
He considered each, tried it out,
sometimes used my word or phrase,
sometimes used it as a stepping-stone
to find his own.

George honored
the silence and the time,

and I began to, too.
I saw my mind,
that limping, hobbled bird,
could hop, then fly
as well as any.

Later, walking out the door,
well-fed by fires of concentration,
my mind and body both

flew from that perch
into a surprise
paradise newly created
while I'd been indoors,

my spirit intoxicated by
the liquor of the breeze,
eyes oozing
the honey of seeing.

Comments about Working On A Poem With George by Max Reif

  • (7/14/2006 1:50:00 PM)

    This was a nice meaty filled feast for my insateable hunger of reading poetry
    is finally at peace. I may now forage onto more paletable tastings of tortured
    souls stabbed heartily with toothpicks for the sampling masses.
    This poem indeed is good and fulfilling of soulful talent. Keep it up good sir.
    God bless thee-Michael Jeffrey Gale.
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  • (4/19/2006 3:03:00 PM)

    I love the use of the bird metaphor, which could slip into cliche but doesn't here. It also flows at a quiet, deliberate pace before moving faster, giving a real feel of your mind's pace quickening as it would have in the moment. Like it! (Report) Reply

  • (4/10/2006 10:42:00 AM)

    Wonderful piece Max. What Raynette says is very perceptive, as you just don't see the join. There is an anecdotal feel to it that is undermined by the sheer force of use of language (again, as Raynette states) . The line 'and I began to, too.' is outstanding; creating a sound that could only be produced by nature and reinforcing the wholeness of the work.

    Inspired my man, truely inspired.
    (Report) Reply

  • (4/10/2006 9:56:00 AM)

    This is a delightful poem, so fluid, you could drink it in, thankyou again Max, I could really picture this one, Love Duncan (Report) Reply

  • (4/10/2006 8:59:00 AM)

    Max, it seems to me that this goes from pure prose to pure poetry. The last two stanzas are the meat of the poetry. I love 'eyes oozing the honey of seeing.' The poem begs for that kind of metaphor in the first few stanzas. Go can do it! :)

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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 10, 2006

Poem Edited: Sunday, May 27, 2007

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