| InterBoard Poetry Competition | |
OLD DANCE, SAME TUNE
Patricia McFarland
(Café Utne)
The old man, he mumbled, grumbled,
tumbled from rationality.
He got that old malaria again?
visitor asked conversationally.
Old nurse hovered, shivered,
quivered in agitation.
He’ll die soon says she--
he picked up the bug
in the rich men’s war dug
up out of meanness and greed.
Old men had need
of more everything to feed
their thirst, the worst
pursed the call
to young men to fall
into step in craters blasted
by hate and the quest,
the wresting of power,
raising the flag of death
on unmapped battleground.
She tramped around the bed, chatting,
patting the hand of the man
asking questions with no answer,
her old scuffed shoes from days bygone
when she and the old man had won
dance contests, before carnage
became an everyday thing
in that place of emerald dreams.
Mama, brace yourself! I’m coming home!
he cried in fever-slurred words heard
only by old nurse who nuzzled his cheek,
knees weak. Not today, sweet thing.
I’m with you and you can’t go.
Judge C.J. Sage’s comments: “Similarly, while ‘Old Dance, Same Tune’ could benefit from a fresher title--and perhaps more music--the rhymes earn this poem its honor: mumbled/grumbled/tumbled; rationality/conversationally/agitation; hovered/shivered/quivered; bug/dug; greed/need/feed; thirst/worst/pursed; call/fall; craters/hate; blasted/quest/wresting; battleground/around; chatting/patting; bygone/won; slurred/words/heard; cheek/weak, and so on. Playing with sound this way can really enliven a poem.”
About the InterBoard Poetry Competition
Archive of IBPC Winners
Next Runner Up, May 2004
