Tag Archives: daily life

Narcisse Tardif, ‘Acquitted on All Charges’

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At six o’clock, I wake,
And plod down to the kitchen table
In time to greet the sun,
And hear the news on cable
But focus on my sugar flakes;
I don’t watch it none.

At eight, I hit the tees—
I’m done faster without a foursome—
And watch the wheeling hawks—
At times, the game is boresome—
And leave the club at ten oh three,
In time for business talks.

At three, I call my mom,
Who asks keenly about my meetings;
I don’t have much to say.
She wants to know I’m eating;
I tell her yes to keep her calm.
We do this every day.

At six I disconnect
And meet friends at my favorite diner
And drink a single glass.
At eight, in my recliner,
I grab my clicker to select
The way the time will pass.

By nine, I’m back in bed,
My teeth brushed and my body showered.
The bed is soft and deep,
My screens unplugged, unpowered.
The pillow yields beneath my head.
At four, I fall asleep.

*****

Narcisse Tardif writes: “I watch some crime documentaries here and there, and I’m struck whenever the murderer or would-be murderer just seems like a normal person. I wanted to use my poem to explore what life could be like for a “normal-person” murderer who got away with it. OJ was a big inspiration, but the poem is not meant to just be a retelling of the OJ story.

“The form is an ad hoc invention. I liked the double stress of “plod down” because of its evocative nature, so I built the second line around that, using a trochaic substitution in the second foot of each second line. The rest of the form is meant to be somewhat conversational, mimicking the ebb and flow of daily life, with some variation here and there, but the repetition of the exact form in every stanza still leaves enough sameness to evoke routine. I don’t know whether you have a policy regarding overexplaining poems on your blog, but the line about drinking a single glass is supposed to be a hint, as well as the more obvious sleepless night. On a more subtle note, the complete absence of a romantic partner is a bit of subtext throughout the whole poem.”

‘Acquitted on All Charges’ was previously posted in Substack: https://substack.com/@narcissetardif

Narcisse Tardif self-describes as “Poet grappling with the ironies and incongruities of heartbreak, religion, meditation, and mortality. I write mostly in English, but also in French and sometimes other languages. First person ≠ autobiographical.”

“Freedom” by Josef Grunig is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Isabella Hsu, ‘Villanelle of Quiet Desperation’

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Frustration’s edge is finer than you thought:
life sinks its teeth in you in little ways.
No, nothing ever works the way it ought.
 
There is no coffee in the coffee pot.
The milk’s gone bad; you suffer more delays.
Frustration’s edge is finer than you thought.
 
You want a break. This wasn’t what they taught
in school. Your life is one unending maze
where nothing ever works the way it ought.
 
The tie you wear to work’s a gordian knot
you can’t untie until you get a raise.
Frustration’s edge is finer than you thought.
 
You held out hope (which never gave you squat).
Your father died without a word of praise.
No, nothing ever works the way it ought.
 
Your kids don’t look like you; your nerves are shot.
You’re not a person but a paraphrase.
Frustration is the only thing you’ve got.
Things never work the way you think they ought.

*****

Isabella Hsu writes: “The process of writing formal poetry is always fascinating. It is a seemingly cooperative act: the form makes its demands, I acquiesce as far as I am able, it responds. In the case of a repeating form, I’m always looking for ways to ensure the repetend carries more and more weight every time it is repeated. What better choice than the villanelle for expressing the minor falls and failures of everyday life?”

‘Villanelle of Quiet Desperation’ was originally published in Poems for Persons of Interest

Isabella Hsu is a poet from Southern California. Her poems and essays have appeared in Poems for Persons of Interest, New Verse Review, and The San Diego Reader among others. Her poem “The Young Man at Nain” was included in The Colosseum Book of Contemporary Narrative Verse.
https://isabellahsu.substack.com/

“Aargh” by Peanuts Reloaded is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Shamik Banerjee, ‘The Auto Drivers of K.G. Street’

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They know well when I clock out. Sharp
At five, on K.G. Street,
They welcome me with every tooth
And lead me to their seat.

Five friends—senescent, pyknic, bald,
In Khakis—ironed, clean,
With brand-new autorickshaws that
Are painted taupe and green.

One masticates areca nuts.
The shortest one takes khaini.
The other two smoke beedis by
A tall Mahogany.

They fall in with a mental pact
That tells them not to seek
To win me, for each one’s assigned
A fixed day of the week

To drive me home. “Today’s my turn,”
One says and bids me in.
While driving he tells stories that
Block off the traffic’s din:

The student loan he’s willing to
Take for his only daughter;
The municipal board has swelled
The price of urban water.

Arrived, I ask about the fare.
“Ah! Saab“, he shyly says.
I take a fifty rupee note—
A glow upon his face.

*****

Shamik Banerjee gives the following word meanings:
“Khaki: A type of cloth.
Khaini: A type of chewable tobacco
Beedi: Indian cigarette
Saab: Sir
K.G. stands for Kasturba Gandhi, the wife of Mahatma Gandhi. Most streets/ lanes/ roads in India are named after famous personalities, especially those who fought for our freedom.” 
‘The Auto Drivers of K.G. Street’ was first published by Willow Review.

Shamik Banerjee is a poet from Assam, India, where he resides with his parents. His poems have been published by Sparks of Calliope, The Hypertexts, Snakeskin, Ink Sweat & Tears, Autumn Sky Daily, Ekstasis, among others. He secured second position in the Southern Shakespeare Company Sonnet Contest, 2024.

Photo: Auto Drivers in Guwahati, Assam.