is this poem good

[Mobius]

this poem won an award

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/mar/25/poem-inspired-by-new-york-mugging-wins-top-prize-in-national-poetry-competition

poem below

Spoiler alert

The Time I Was Mugged in New York City
I told people that the travel sickness pills
made me stupid. I entered JFK with a red
suitcase and no one to greet me. A man
came up to me, dressed in black. I found
myself in a car park by an expensive van
and he was holding my luggage. Get In, he
said. There wasn't a single thought in my
head. I found myself inside his van; he
locked the doors immediately after; made
me switch my phone off as we went under
the bridge. We spoke about Niagara Falls.
He chose the narrowest roads in the city,
a needle making a joke out of Manhattan.
When he pulled up outside Grand Central
station, he said – don't get out, there are
bad people around. He made me unzip
my suitcase, books and bras spilling over
the seat, and give him all my money. Then
he helped me out of the van like I was a
princess; he held my bags like a vassal and
kissed my cheek. Get In, I hear whenever
a man pushes me too far; Get In to my big
black car. Sometimes in my dreams, I am
sitting beside him on the leather; I don't
need to be ordered and together, we drive
with melodious speed over the East River.

[close]

good poem or?

[Midas]

stopped reading after three lines

[Zero Gravitas]

So it's not a metaphor then?

I also don't like the sparse accidental rhymes, makes me question my reading skills.

[Kelvin]

A celebrity spotlight in the Times Supplement.

[Keebleman]

There are some strong elements towards the end, when it remembers to be a poem.  But I don't understand "a needle making a joke out of Manhattan" though, or "melodious speed".

[Dr Rock]

Bollocks

[imitationleather]

I love it!

[imitationleather]

Hang on I have read it now.

[Video Game Fan 2000]

I don't like it but the way it puts the patter of social media or telephone storytelling against the panic, halting rhythm of someone narrating a horrible event to themselves as its happening is impressive to me on a technical level. reader cant tell if they're eavesdropping recollection or being told verbally. thats good for the subject matter. there's no obvious point of entry or clear 'now' in which the narration is happening.

if the point is meant to be the illustration of someone self-narrating an awful event to themselves in order to divest of the trauma, willing themselves not have had "a single thought in my head" and trying to forbid the attacking from having an emotional impact, etc. showing the shielding and instinctual nature of narrating. then its good. if its face value an ironically light account of recurring trauma thoughts then its pretty bad, really played out. but i dont like it either way because i think poetry should aim to be beautiful and this isnt that

[Johnny Yesno]

and it doesn't rhyme.

[badaids]

Ahem:

Imprisoned by some twinks
And now my t-shirt stinks
But I've earned £10

Now where's my prize?

[FeederFan500]

I don't think I get "melodious speed" either.

I quite liked the rhythm of it, but the rhymes towards the end along with the driving over a bridge put me in mind of Stan and I can now only read it in Eminem's style.

[lankyguy95]

There is a matter of factness that neatly illustrates the ordinary rhythm against which you can suddenly find yourself the object of malevolence — that something so routine and yet, if you think about it, intrinsically vulnerable can suddenly become a permanent part of your life in memory, partly by its attaching to other everyday situations; a routine in itself. I did find something moving in that. Obviously there's a sexual undertone to it.

I can't figure out what "a needle making a joke out of Manhattan" means though. Possibly the opening line about the travel sickness pills explains it; it's a fevered half-connection.

[Buelligan]

It's OK.  Too many Is, stops you seeing it with your own.  But fuck the patriarchy anyway, good on her for that.

Looking forward to a poem from Reigate about finding your whole family pulped by the Israelis or Woking thoughts on famine - perhaps I'm being too harsh but dear Guardian, fucking hell.

I am being too harsh.  Still.  Fucking hell.

[Cleveland Steamer]

Thought it was alright. Like anything presented in a newspaper I was ready to dismiss it as "the famous man looked at the red cup" level nepo suspicious business, but it was alright.

I think the needle line is referring to the thin narrow streets rather than the wide avenues of Manhattan (is Manhattan wide? I've never been), or just a bit of fuck-it poetic imagery, which is alright, too.

[Dr Rock]

It's very hard to traverse Manhattan sticking only to narrow streets.

[Butchers Blind]

I prefer limericks. Only five lines and usually a joke at the end.

[Oosp]

The van is the needle.

Is this not about

Spoiler alert

trafficking

[close]

?

[Cleveland Steamer]

My dick is the needle and "Manhattan" is my marriage.

[Pavlov`s Dog`s Dad`s Dead]

Isn't there also an allusion to needles in haystacks? In a vehicle in Manhattan, she is basically lost, unfindable.

Following which idea, there's something bizarrely comic about picturing uber-urban, modern Manhattan as a haystack: an archaic, rural feature.

Mind you, I've generally got a cloth ear for poetry, so...

[Buelligan]

How easy it is for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God, via Cleopatra's Needle in Central Park as the speedometer laughs at the po-po?

[Dr Rock]

Isn't there also an allusion to needles in haystacks? In a vehicle in Manhattan, she is basically lost, unfindable.

I reckon this also

[Cleveland Steamer]

A needle in manhaystack

[Gurke and Hare]

good poem or?

Barmy old cack.

[cliggg]

There are no good poems.

[Captain Z]

I stuck my money into
his pocket, and he fetched
the suitcase from the van.

[Dex Sawash]

There are no good poems.

<Adds to buddy list>

[Proactive]

There was young lass in mannhaten, who who buggered a chap with a baton. They drove through the city, till his hoop felt less shitty, then she fondled his pipe and it fattened.

Can I have my prize now please.

[Underturd]

this poem won an award

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2024/mar/25/poem-inspired-by-new-york-mugging-wins-top-prize-in-national-poetry-competition

poem below

Spoiler alert

The Time I Was Mugged in New York City
I told people that the travel sickness pills
made me stupid. I entered JFK with a red
suitcase and no one to greet me. A man
came up to me, dressed in black. I found
myself in a car park by an expensive van
and he was holding my luggage. Get In, he
said. There wasn't a single thought in my
head. I found myself inside his van; he
locked the doors immediately after; made
me switch my phone off as we went under
the bridge. We spoke about Niagara Falls.
He chose the narrowest roads in the city,
a needle making a joke out of Manhattan.
When he pulled up outside Grand Central
station, he said – don't get out, there are
bad people around. He made me unzip
my suitcase, books and bras spilling over
the seat, and give him all my money. Then
he helped me out of the van like I was a
princess; he held my bags like a vassal and
kissed my cheek. Get In, I hear whenever
a man pushes me too far; Get In to my big
black car. Sometimes in my dreams, I am
sitting beside him on the leather; I don't
need to be ordered and together, we drive
with melodious speed over the East River.

[close]

good poem or?

No mate, it's pants.

[bgmnts]

Just prose but the Word formatting fucked up.



I write 'poetry', and I've never won a prize for anything I've submitted (obviously) but to think I've lost out to something like that makes me sad.