Trip 1 of 3 (v2, free verse)

[Leaf]

Version 2

and A&E blurs
.....voices quieten
.....Dr Chong fades
.....Nurse is drifting
..........pain is falling away

on my peaceful planet
.....still seated on the trolley bed
.....all I see is my carer
..........holding my right foot
.....and my younger brother
..........holding my left
and their earnest faces
.....as they raise me
..........arthritic hips knees ankles
..........freshly fractured femur right

I am in Dublin now
.....and singing through the streets
.....Molly Malone

I wheel my wheelbarrow
.....as surely as I used to wheel my little brother
.....except it's full of cockles and mussels now
.....spinning in rainbows

I am so happy here
.....I want to thank the doctor
.....Thanks Dr Dude


- - -
Version 1

Last year, I fractured my right femur and ended up in hospital for four-and-a-half weeks. This is a poem from my hospital series (title tbc). A poem before this one provides the info that Bro. A. is my younger brother Adrian and Tess is my PA/Carer. Altogether I had three trips during my stay, caused by inhalation of nitrous oxide for pain relief. Interesting times!


Date: Saturday 13th June 2020
Location: A&E, Gloucestershire Royal Hospital

The trolley-bed awaiting me is close yet miles away.
I start to rise, get on my feet. 'Come on, come on!' I say.
The spasms start again. I scream, I roar. The pain is wild.
I want my mum. I'm 41 and suddenly a child.
I grab the bed and sit. 'No, sweet. Get on it properly now.'
I try. I scream. They grab my leg. I cry, 'Ow-ow-ow-ow...'
'What's going on?' A voice outside the curtains, soft and clear.
'They're [sigh],' Bro. A. explains. Then something else I can't quite hear.
A yellow pipe appears. It smokes. 'Inhale, good girl,' says Chong.
I breathe in breathe out, play the pipe. My woodwind lungs are strong.
The nurses blur, the spasms shrink. The curtains sway and part.
Bro. A. and Tess are here. Tess holds her hand against her heart.
'Hey yous!' I say. They hold my feet. She's left and he is right.
They raise and shift. They watch my face. We're spinning through the night.
I start to sing, of Mol' Malone, fair Dublin, pretty girls,
the cockles, mussels turn and turn in rushing rainbow whirls.
Now Brother A. is saying, 'Partly Irish', to a nurse
and Chong has finished bandaging. 'Good! Now it won't get worse.'
The spinning's slowing. Brother A. and Tess have left the room.
My clothes come off and I'm re-dressed in square-print gown of gloom.
The pain again. My nails are knives. I stab my wrist, my palm.
I whimper. Teddy Teague appears. He whispers, 'Just keep calm.'
'To AMU!' says Chong. 'Good luck,' he adds and pats my hand.
We ride to station no. 2 in Gloucester Hospiland.

[NotQuiteSure]

Hi Leaf,
you say this is part of a series and in your explanatory note you mention a brother and a carer, but who is Chong? An A&E nurse, a doctor? (I kept on expecting a reference to Cheech). I'm assuming he is mentioned in a previous poem, along with the fractured femur? (It's just that the injury it isn't clear, and 'spasms' suggests other possibilities).

The trolley-bed awaiting me is close yet miles away.
I start to rise, get on my feet. 'Come on, come on!' I say.
- not sure about 'come on, come on' maybe 'I can, I will!'?
The spasms start again. I scream, I roar. The pain is wild.
- what's the difference between screaming and roaring?
I want my mum. I'm 41 and suddenly a child.
- very nice line
I grab the bed and sit. 'No, sweet. Get on it properly now.'
- not sure who is speaking, best guess Tess? 'properly' seems a beat too many.
I try. I scream. They grab my leg. I cry, 'Ow-ow-ow-ow...'
- So 'they'? Maybe it's not Tess. Nurses? (And the 'ows' seem a bit tame after scream/roar).
'What's going on?' A voice outside the curtains, soft and clear.
- Is this voice Chong?
'They're [sigh],' Bro. A. explains. Then something else I can't quite hear.
- Bro A. followed by Chong seems strange, as does 'explains'. And the rhythm's awkward.
Just a thought
'They're [muffled]' Little bro replies, then something I can't hear' ?
A yellow pipe appears. It smokes. 'Inhale, good girl,' says Chong.
- 'That's it. Inhale,' says Chong ?
I breathe in breathe out, play the pipe. My woodwind lungs are strong.
- I breathe in. Out. I play the pipe ...
(like 'woodwind lungs').
The nurses blur, the spasms shrink. The curtains sway and part.
Bro. A. and Tess are here. Tess holds her hand against her heart.
- rhythm seems off on this line
my bro and Tess are standing there, her hand held to her heart ?
'Hey yous!' I say. They hold my feet. She's left and he is right.
- is there a reason they hold your feet? It feels like you've skipped a step.
They raise and shift. They watch my face. We're spinning through the night.
- not really following what 'raise and shift' means.
I start to sing, of Mol' Malone, fair Dublin, pretty girls,
the cockles, mussels turn and turn in rushing rainbow whirls.
- there's a suggestion of vomiting here, intentional? (Made me think of a 'technicolor yawn')
Now Brother A. is saying, 'Partly Irish', to a nurse
- like the detail. Though ...
Now little Bro's explaining 'Partly Irish' ...
and Chong has finished bandaging. 'Good! Now it won't get worse.'
- do you need the 'Now'?
The spinning's slowing. Brother A. and Tess have left the room.
- The rhythm seems off again, and there's a bro/slow sonic going begging.
The spinning's slowed and little Bro and Tess have left the room
My clothes come off and I'm re-dressed in square-print gown of gloom.
- perhaps '... re-dressed, the square-print gown'?
The pain again. My nails are knives. I stab my wrist, my palm.
I whimper. Teddy Teague appears. He whispers, 'Just keep calm.'
- a soft toy?
'To AMU!' says Chong. 'Good luck,' he adds and pats my hand.
We ride to station no. 2 in Gloucester Hospiland.
- not buying the ending. If you'd mangled Molly Malone or Dublin or any of that couplet earlier maybe this would work, but, it would have to be you (the patient) saying it, not you (the narrator). As it is it feels rhyme driven and unearned.

Regards, Not

PS. Where's the trip? Was it just the rainbow shellfish?

.

[Leaf]

Hi Not,

Thanks for your notes ('Not's Notes'); I'll give them some thought

The main inkling at the moment is that it might all be a bit 'other' for most readers, maybe? If so, I'll think about how I lead up to this particular poem in terms of showing more about myself in the beginning stages of the series, so everything becomes more accessible, hopefully. I tend to get instant connections within my group of poorly poets, but I know I need to think about the broader audience too.

Best wishes,
Leaf

[pomespennyeach]

Date: Saturday 13th June 2020
Location: A&E, Gloucestershire Royal Hospital

The trolley-bed awaiting me is close yet miles away.
I start to rise, get on my feet. 'Come on, come on!' I say.
The spasms start again. I scream, I roar. The pain is wild.
I want my mum. I'm 41 and suddenly a child.
I grab the bed and sit. 'No, sweet. Get on it properly now.'
I try. I scream. They grab my leg. I cry, 'Ow-ow-ow-ow...'
'What's going on?' A voice outside the curtains, soft and clear.

I'm unclear who all is speaking here.

'They're [sigh],' Bro. A. explains. Then something else I can't quite hear.

Doesn't cxplain much and not crazy about "Bro. A" as a name

A yellow pipe appears. It smokes. 'Inhale, good girl,' says Chong.
I breathe in breathe out, play the pipe. My woodwind lungs are strong.
The nurses blur, the spasms shrink. The curtains sway and part.
Bro. A. and Tess are here. Tess holds her hand against her heart.
'Hey yous!' I say. They hold my feet. She's left and he is right.
They raise and shift. They watch my face. We're spinning through the night.
I start to sing, of Mol' Malone, fair Dublin, pretty girls,
the cockles, mussels turn and turn in rushing rainbow whirls.
Now Brother A. is saying, 'Partly Irish', to a nurse
and Chong has finished bandaging. 'Good! Now it won't get worse.'
The spinning's slowing. Brother A. and Tess have left the room.
My clothes come off and I'm re-dressed in square-print gown of gloom.
The pain again. My nails are knives. I stab my wrist, my palm.
I whimper. Teddy Teague appears. He whispers, 'Just keep calm.'
'To AMU!' says Chong. 'Good luck,' he adds and pats my hand.
We ride to station no. 2 in Gloucester Hospiland.

I had trouble following the action. It seems you are already at the hospital, but also that they are oloading you into an ambulance.......or moving you from ambulance into a room. Lot of names.....who is Teddy Teague?.....what is AMU?

I mostly could follow it starting with the yellow pipe appearing. I personally would like shorter lines, but that may just be my short attention span.

Lots of nice detail, but all too crowded into these long lines IMO.

PPE

[Leaf]

Hi PEP,

Thanks for your notes too!

AMU is the Acute Medical Unit at GRH (Gloucestershire Royal Hospital). The type of information provision I mention to Not would sort that stumble. Hmm... Teddy. Where does your imagination go?

I chose heptameter because I like the unnerving feel of it. What would you prefer? Hex? Pent? Tet? And I'm actually pleased that the poem feels crowded, as I'm not aiming for a particularly pleasant reading experience, lol.

Shall consider and revert.

Best wishes,
Leaf

[Macavity]

Yes, it is scary Leaf, not just that unlimited physical pain, but the sense of disorientation in the focus in and out. It is as if the body as become the enemy and the mind has to adopt strategies. Very authentic narrative and use of language (I only become aware of the metre when you mentioned it...Spherian cred to you!). I've been on various antibiotics since April, but my 'discomfort' levels are no where near this! Family, friends, and the carers are the positives in such circumstances.

'Internet' poems often suffer the 'disadvantage' of 'standing alone', but that didn't inhibit my reading of your poem.

take care

mac

ps one of my sisters calls me Bro

[ray miller]

My initial feeling was that when you put something like this into formal rhyme it becomes less personal, less authentic. That said, there was only one line I felt the rhyme became too obtrusive -
Hey yous!' I say. They hold my feet. She's left and he is right.

You manage to get in a lot of detail which does personalise the poem. I'd prefer "seven miles away" in the first line. It's pretty clear who Chong is, though it wouldn't hurt to be rid of "It smokes" and add Doctor Chong. My first impression was that Teddy Teague is a porter. Now I'm thinking he's a teddy, though this teddy is making rather a late appearance in the script.

[NotQuiteSure]

The main inkling at the moment is that it might all be a bit 'other' for most readers, maybe?

I don't think so. The scene seemed familiar enough (to be comprehensible), but also specific to you (to be interesting). It's just trying to judge it 'out of sequence' as it were, that make for some difficulty. That and the 'Bro A' parts. Really, I think its biggest 'weakness' is that the 'trip' element doesn't feel like the main thrust of the poem (you devote about fifty words to the 'pain' and around sixty words to the 'trip'. So, despite the title, they come across as being of equal weight.)
But that hallucinated teddy bear is growing on me, such a nice touch.

Regards, Not

.

[pomespennyeach]

I chose heptameter because I like the unnerving feel of it. What would you prefer? Hex? Pent? Tet? And I'm actually pleased that the poem feels crowded, as I'm not aiming for a particularly pleasant reading experience, lol.

Now that I understand its technical aspect, I'll try to to "get with the program".....I'm blind to meter and most rhyme.

Last year I accidentlally severed several finger-tips working on a lawn mower and got an ambulance ride to a trauma unit. Perhaps I'll write my own "trip down nightmare lane" and we can compare.

PPE

[Leaf]

Yes, it is scary Leaf, not just that unlimited physical pain, but the sense of disorientation in the focus in and out. It is as if the body as become the enemy and the mind has to adopt strategies. Very authentic narrative and use of language (I only become aware of the metre when you mentioned it...Spherian cred to you!). I've been on various antibiotics since April, but my 'discomfort' levels are no where near this! Family, friends, and the carers are the positives in such circumstances.

'Internet' poems often suffer the 'disadvantage' of 'standing alone', but that didn't inhibit my reading of your poem.

take care

mac

ps one of my sisters calls me Bro

Thanks, mac; good to know that the scary's coming through. The old bod was very much the enemy at that point! Thanks for appreciating the narrative and language use and the metre too; I have indeed picked up a few things at the 'sphere. But I'm more at home here, I've decided

Sorry about the antibio's; those can be pretty rough at times. Yes, good to have a support team! I'm pleased you found a few things to like about the poem.

Bro. A. went through a phase of being pretty keen on the band Faithless, such that he started calling me 'Sister Fliss', after their Sister Bliss, lol.

Best wishes,
Leaf

[Leaf]

My initial feeling was that when you put something like this into formal rhyme it becomes less personal, less authentic. That said, there was only one line I felt the rhyme became too obtrusive -
Hey yous!' I say. They hold my feet. She's left and he is right.

You manage to get in a lot of detail which does personalise the poem. I'd prefer "seven miles away" in the first line. It's pretty clear who Chong is, though it wouldn't hurt to be rid of "It smokes" and add Doctor Chong. My first impression was that Teddy Teague is a porter. Now I'm thinking he's a teddy, though this teddy is making rather a late appearance in the script.

Hi ray; thanks for your thoughts too! I'll take a look at the line you mention there.

Yes, quite a lot of 'deets'. I like the idea of providing a number of miles and also of omitting 'It smokes' to fit in Chong. I'm loving Teddy Teague as a porter; he is indeed a teddy bear. My surname is Teague; I forgot to mention that, lol. It's Irish for 'poet', by some strange coincidence!

Best wishes,
Leaf

[Leaf]

The main inkling at the moment is that it might all be a bit 'other' for most readers, maybe?

I don't think so. The scene seemed familiar enough (to be comprehensible), but also specific to you (to be interesting). It's just trying to judge it 'out of sequence' as it were, that make for some difficulty. That and the 'Bro A' parts. Really, I think its biggest 'weakness' is that the 'trip' element doesn't feel like the main thrust of the poem (you devote about fifty words to the 'pain' and around sixty words to the 'trip'. So, despite the title, they come across as being of equal weight.)
But that hallucinated teddy bear is growing on me, such a nice touch.

Regards, Not

.

Hi Not, thanks for coming back. I must admit, I didn't think to count the words, so thanks for that! I suppose I think of the entire experience as a trip because it seemed unreal at the time, if that makes sense? Teddy is pleased he's growing on you, lol. He is a material being, with me throughout my time in hospital, but I did have his voice in my head, which was good.

Still thinking about the best approach to revisions!

Best wishes,
Leaf

[Leaf]

I chose heptameter because I like the unnerving feel of it. What would you prefer? Hex? Pent? Tet? And I'm actually pleased that the poem feels crowded, as I'm not aiming for a particularly pleasant reading experience, lol.

Now that I understand its technical aspect, I'll try to to "get with the program".....I'm blind to meter and most rhyme.

Last year I accidentlally severed several finger-tips working on a lawn mower and got an ambulance ride to a trauma unit. Perhaps I'll write my own "trip down nightmare lane" and we can compare.

PPE

PPE, welcome back too. Don't worry too much about the rhythm 'n' rhyme. Happy to receive all kinds of comments, really

Ouchy! That accident sounds horrific. I think rides in ambulances are well worth writing about. Was it Larkin who wrote a poem about ambulances, except he was viewing from outside? When I went into hospital, they couldn't actually accommodate me and my wheelchair in the ambulance, so Bro. A. brought me in my own vehicle, with Tess following in her car.

I've been a wheelchair user for about a decade, after an accident in hospital, of all places! Just my luck, lol. But that's another of my gloomy old hospital series; I do write fun stuff too

Best wishes,
Leaf

[NotQuiteSure]

Hi Leaf

I didn't think to count the words, so thanks for that!
I was curious, and cut+paste plus Word Count makes that sort of thing easy.
Perhaps your explanatory note ('I had three trips') swayed my reading (it might not be an issue when you have the entire sequence).

Still thinking about the best approach to revisions!
Any chance of seeing the opening poem (the scene setter)?

Regards, Not

.

[pomespennyeach]

I do write fun stuff too

Don't get me wrong, this was a fun poem (considering the subject that is, it is as "fun" as such an experience could be while being relayed to a reader).

PPE

[Leaf]

Hi Leaf

I didn't think to count the words, so thanks for that!
I was curious, and cut+paste plus Word Count makes that sort of thing easy.
Perhaps your explanatory note ('I had three trips') swayed my reading (it might not be an issue when you have the entire sequence).

Still thinking about the best approach to revisions!
Any chance of seeing the opening poem (the scene setter)?

Regards, Not

.

Ah, yes; good old C 'n' P! I use it a lot with work

I'm afraid I might've lost that poem, Not. I've been looking for it between work tasks today and it's nowhere I've thought to look so far. But that's okay, as it wasn't particularly good, lol. I'm thinking now of a 'Trip Triptych', in which I zoom in on what happened to my mind while under the influence. All trips occurred while they were plastering my leg. There should have been two trips, but on Trip 2 the plasterer got it wrong.

Trip 1
Going blurry, seeing Tess and Bro. A. through a mist, singing 'Cockles and Mussels' in an Irish accent, laughing uproariously for no reason, telling Dr Chong he was a 'doctor dude'.

Trip 2
Revisiting my clubbing days, up on a podium dancing to 'Needin' u' in my blue-and-green sequinned top from River Island, whispering loudly, 'Birmingham 2000!', to everyone's confusion.

Trip 3
Thinking the consultant in the plaster room was my husband and we owned a wonderful house in the country, complete with children, and trying to have a conversation with him about a dinner party.

Rhythm 'n' rhyme is my go-to, but I could experiment, I suppose. I'm even thinking the thoughts I had might be more authentically expressed in free verse. I'll keep thinking!

Best wishes,
Leaf

[Leaf]

I do write fun stuff too

Don't get me wrong, this was a fun poem (considering the subject that is, it is as "fun" as such an experience could be while being relayed to a reader).

PPE

Thanks, PPE! As you can see in my response to Not (above), I'm thinking of a zoom approach now; any suggestions re. how to make this most effective are welcome

Best wishes,
Leaf

[pomespennyeach]

Rhythm 'n' rhyme is my go-to, but I could experiment, I suppose. I'm even thinking the thoughts I had might be more authentically expressed in free verse. I'll keep thinking!

I'm a prisoner of free verse so I was going to suggest that......but it should be in whatever gets you writing, so if meter and rhyme are it, I wouldn't want to dissaude you.

So all these experiences were under the influence of nitrous oxide (or some similar gas....e.g. laughing gas)? Interesting because I've never heard of it being used this way in American hospitals. I need to look this up I think.

PPE

[Leaf]

Thanks, PPE. Anything gets me writing, really. Fourteeners sit pretty comfortably, but free verse is fun too.

Yes, three experiences with nitrous oxide, lol. It's not used in the US. I think, but it's pretty popular here, from what a fellow patient told me. I was very grateful for it at the time, but later I wondered what it might do to the old brain!

Best wishes,
Leaf

[NotQuiteSure]

Hi Leaf,
well, 'doctor dude' and 'Birmingham 2000!' already sound like titles. Where was the 'doctor dude' in Trip 1 of 3 ?

Regards, Not.

.

[CalebPerry]

Leaf, somehow I missed this poem. I'm sorry that this experience was so painful for you. Pain is the pits.

I think it's very good, although it feels like the language could be a little smoother. I have confidence, however, that you can smooth it into good shape. It has been my personal experience that the smoothing process, which takes a poem from a clunky draft to a polished product, is where poems become great.

I am particularly pleased to see you writing about something so intensely personal, instead of just writing about nature.

My only advice is to keep reading the poem. As you do, you'll find more ways to tweak the the poem into a finished state.

Not sure why you are calling Adrian "Bro A."

PPE, some of us have light-colored themes, which causes your yellow words to appear like a yellow blur on light gray.

Having said that, I now realize that when I use dark blue in my posts, you folks who have black themes probably can't see what I'm writing.

[Leaf]

Hi Leaf,
well, 'doctor dude' and 'Birmingham 2000!' already sound like titles. Where was the 'doctor dude' in Trip 1 of 3 ?

Regards, Not.

.

Lol, Not; well, 'doctor dude' was Chong. He was very kind to me and I appreciated that. He even helped Tess fold up my clothes, once I was in the grim old gown!

Hoping to find time for this soon. Far too much work at the moment, unfortunately.

Best wishes,
Leaf

[Leaf]

Leaf, somehow I missed this poem. I'm sorry that this experience was so painful for you. Pain is the pits.

I think it's very good, although it feels like the language could be a little smoother. I have confidence, however, that you can smooth it into good shape. It has been my personal experience that the smoothing process, which takes a poem from a clunky draft to a polished product, is where poems become great.

I am particularly pleased to see you writing about something so intensely personal, instead of just writing about nature.

My only advice is to keep reading the poem. As you do, you'll find more ways to tweak the the poem into a finished state.

Not sure why you are calling Adrian "Bro A."

PPE, some of us have light-colored themes, which causes your yellow words to appear like a yellow blur on light gray.

Having said that, I now realize that when I use dark blue in my posts, you folks who have black themes probably can't see what I'm writing.

Thanks, Caleb; yes, rather painful. My consultant told me that fracturing one's femur is the most painful break the human body can endure.

The plan with the poem now (see response to Not earlier) is to include it as part of a Trip Triptych, free verse, so I have more freedom with the language and it can feel a bit 'trippier' too.

I've written quite a lot of personal poems; I think I've been in Nature mode since meeting you, though. I come and go with the personal stuff, unsure whether it's what people want to read. But it's not just about being ill. Recently I wrote a relationship poem.

'Bro. A.' is Adrian's nickname. My other brother, Graham, is 'Bro. G.' Dad calls me 'Nutcase', lol. We have quite a lot of nicknames!

Best wishes,
Leaf

[pomespennyeach]

Minor suggestion re Bro. A. Just spell it out, eg Brother A. It inhibits the reading to come upon abbreviations I think. I look forward to reading the next version. Hope work doesn't delay it too long

[Leaf]

PPE, I'll probably omit Bro. A. altogether, now that I'm focusing on the trips themselves rather than all the stuff around them. Work's been pretty tough since Covid hit. I have to work twice as hard to make the same amount of money. But at some point I'll just write out the content of each trip, as that should help me pinpoint the interesting areas

Ooh, do emojis work here? (beers)