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t r o m p
by Elizabeth Jill
The monster smacks and snacks on smacks
not choosing the real food provided;
filling itself with nails and tacks,
the more the rust, the more excited.
A labyrinthine of restlessness,
the monster finds a path to romp
hoping for friendship, blessedness;
but when it walks - goes
tromp
tromp
tromp
05/31/2006 Author's Note: Although at first glance, this may seem a lighthearted ditty, it is intended to describe an ongoing and very grim reality. A truth written in the dog-eared pages of questions marked in burnt knowledge, that is kept quieted in the sidelines.
Posted on 05/31/2006
Copyright © 2024 Elizabeth Jill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Dave Fitzgerald on 05/31/06 at 11:42 PM I just like the word tromp and all it stands for! |
| Posted by Christel Crews on 06/01/06 at 12:09 AM i agree with lori "brilliant".. you are so talented.. writing a piece that can be read two completely different ways.. the reality is serious.. it struck a cord in me, at the same time, a child could read it and see a friendly monster.. fascinating write |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/01/06 at 04:11 AM A true monster - yikes! this is a scary... and cleverly written... |
| Posted by Mara Meade on 06/02/06 at 01:03 AM Finding words for this, as you know, is not easy. I... so appreciate the way you even gave a touch of whimsy (love, regardless... and laughter in some form or fashion) to a most difficult dilemma and emotional weight.
Indeed, TROMP. Especially when one knows how to tip-toe...
lovelove,
mara |
| Posted by Mary Ellen Smith on 06/02/06 at 04:45 PM Wonderful! A little scary..(just the right amount)leaves me wanting more of this fun!! |
| Posted by Kyle Anne Kish on 06/03/06 at 06:48 PM What better way to describe the underlying meaning of this poem than with the TROMP, TROMP, TROMP. I know that noise. The senses never stop associating certain sounds, smells and sights with certain events in one's life. Time and hard work heals, but there are always triggers. You write how you see it in a very unique and delicate way. Thank you for the read, my friend. |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 06/04/06 at 05:21 AM Well, this can be SEEN on many levels from many layers. The 'blessed' personality can be tromped by the very essence ( by essence, I do not mean 'soul'but the basic instinct of the man, which emerges undisguised in adverse situations). There is always an ongoing battle between what is and what should be. And for those who fail to realize and fight this battle, there world confnes to them selves. 'Í'forming the epicenter. They 'smacks and snacks on smacks
not choosing the real food provided;'as the definition of real food keeps on changing for them depending on how they view their limited self centered world from time to time.
Well, I also see a metaphysical angle to the whole scene but again it brings you back to an ongoing battle. And the battle will continue so far there is this duality within and in time and space.
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| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/04/06 at 02:40 PM This is a finely crafted dark piece that could easily represent sociopaths, psychopaths, wife beaters, etc. Well done. |
| Posted by Peter Humphreys on 06/04/06 at 07:33 PM I will take some extra cocoa to bed with me tonight and hide under the covers hoping not to hear that tromp, tromp, tromp! A gem of a poem. |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 06/05/06 at 08:47 PM I sense the deeper meaning of this poem - it's evident by the words you use in the first stanza -especially the excitement over rust - an erosion, decay. Somehow, monster's like a child having a temper tantrum when not getting his/her way - that's the sad part of the emotional impact here. Whether the monster is internal or external it still exists. Wonderful Jill!
~Chelle~ |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 06/09/06 at 12:53 PM I too like this piece, even though i question the underlying message of the munching monster. It is brilliantly written and very vivid. Thanks for the "food" for thought. |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 11/09/07 at 12:57 PM Begging for the door to be opened on the real source of the pain...in poems and elsewhere |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 05/23/18 at 04:00 PM Nicely done lady |
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