Warm by the window

[battycatty]

Wrap up warm, sit by the window and watch;
the psychopathic skateboarding axe murderer,
six wives: two beheaded, one sautéed,
two casseroled and the one that got away.

His older sister/carer runs after him yelling;
“Come back here you little sod. Wait til I get me mits on you.
I'll caress you with tenderness, massage you with unguents,
call you, 'My most beloved little brother. The best in the world.'
and see how you'll like that.”

An old woman passes by, muttering beneath her breath.
She skins cats, turns their fur into hats and gloves.
Feeds the flesh to her giant tortoise, Vladamire.
Burns fivers in the grate and defies the reaper
to come and get her.

The reaper passes on the other side of the road,
unassuming in his green quilted jacket and flat cap.
He has all of humanity in a tartan shopping trolley
that he pulls behind him.

“Get outta the way old man,”
yells the psycho skateboarder, fishing for his axe.
“Come back 'ere my darling little fucker,”
yells big sister, searching for her mittens.
“Come and get if you've got the nerve,”
mutters the old woman, fishing a cat out of a bin by its tail.
The reaper smiles, slowly, knowingly.
He's seen it all before

[Messiah]

Loved this!

I'll let others comment on its poetic merits, but, for me, the narrative through your wee window was quite splendid. Indeed, your words massaged my mind with their sublime unguents!

All the best,
The Messiah.

PS. “Get outta the way (comma) old man,”
“Come back 'ere (comma) my darling little fucker,”
“Come and get (what) if you've got the nerve,”

[silvershoes]

I enjoyed this a lot, thought it had a lot of energy and verve, and some great lines. I love the detail of the old women:

"She skins cats, turns their fur into hats and gloves.
Feeds the flesh to her giant tortoise, Vladamire" and the line about the grim reaper having "all of humanity in a tartan shopping trolley"

To me it could be tightened in places, I think the a little - think the last verse is nowhere near as strong as the earlier ones. In fact looking at it again I think it falters when you have the dialogue between the pychopathic skateboard and his older sister as well. It doesn't feel as real to me, in a what the giant tortoise does (even though it's quite a surreal and hardly realistic image). And the syntax is a little clumsy in places. On a more literal level would someone looking out of the window be able to hear all that anyway? I wonder what it would be like if both those section where just boiled down to a telling vignette observed

Anyway much to enjoy and well worth working on. (Like the last line though - that however crazy it all sounds the reaper's seen it all before)

Emma

[Ergo_Proxy]

I don't like poetry. I'm too thick to understand it, but this... wow, I could relate to it. It's pretty hip. Flashy and sparkly, yet not too gaudy, outrageous yet restrained... I like it!

It's almost like narrative prose. There's consistent, solid characterization, there's dialogue, and there’s a strong, consistent theme (the morbid ending is a faithful fulfillment of the story's overall ominous tone).

The particularity of the descriptive nouns and adjectives makes the poem a joy to read. You are so very particular with both character description and dialogue! This wasn't your typical vague, spacey, dreamlike poem that I'm used to reading. On the downside, I think the lack of a concrete setting weakened the piece. What type of a road is it? What's the location? Is this a city, countryside, or what? The giant tortoise named Vlademire eats skinned cats. Death mosey's by wearing a green quilted jacket and flat cap while pushing humanity in a tartan shopping trolley. I wish you would have given the poem's sense of place the same wonderful, concrete details.

I can't compliment you enough over how you completely describe your nouns, without overdoing it, until they're so tangible and visible that it‘s like watching a tv show instead of reading poetry. This is an excellent example using the specific over the general and engaging the reader's senses. Throwing in a few odors or perhaps a strong taste would have enriched it even more.

[Ergo_Proxy]

..and there's no glut of adverbs and cliches and metaphors (especially those pesky similes that writers always reach for). This is some really good shit. I'm amazed.

[battycatty]

Thanks folks for the positive feedback. I'll have to watch the poets ego. The poem was generated after reading, Nervously sipping wine,a chapter from Natalie Goldbergs Writing down the bones. The idea is to let go and be absurd. I enjoyed writing it. It's a first draft and does need some work. However the feedback I've received has given me plenty to work on.
Cheers.