Books Poetry and Pomegranates
posted by May 2 at 14:44 PMon
The Seattle PI had a poetry contest and picked this poem as the best:
“Bloodspell” by Marie-Caroline Moir:
Now just ho there, splayed peacock,
and spare the poor girl but a ruby
from your pomegranate heart.
She’s far goner than long and
nosing that notch in your seashell ear
(the mere thought of it!)
just sends her —
wakes her daily with a tickle/thump
before the shuffling on of sun,
and the augur of hair patties from the
Should you not want her,
she may end up in rubber sandals
and very loose pants,
at some artists’ commune
stuffed up in the Ozarks.
Making origami jockstraps
and other gestures of homage.
This is what the judges had to say about “Bloodspell”:
The poem demonstrates a wonderful mixture of sincerity and surprising humor, alloying its various tones and moods into something completely its own. The language leaps energetically from one verbal register to another (we go from the arcane and serious ‘augur’ to the gross and everyday ‘hair patties,’ from the antiquated greeting ‘ho’ to unmistakably contemporary language), and the imagery — pomegranate heart, hair patties, origami jockstrap — is as original as it is vivid.
The above reasons for admiring the poem are as bad as the poem itself.