I read recently in an extract from Sylvia Plath's writing the memorable sentence, “I have never put a toothbrush in a poem.” I took this as a challenge; does anyone else feel like trying? I'd be glad if you'd message me if you do.
Your Toothbrush
I am not familiar with your toothbrush,
not acquainted with it,
have no experience of it,
am unaware even of its colour.
I have not seen it waiting in your bathroom,
not anointed it with paste in the morning,
not watched you move it deliberately
and delicately between your lips.
I feel no envy towards your toothbrush
as it firmly, thoroughly explores your mouth,
closer to you than I can ever be,
for a toothbrush cannot savour the intimacy of the moment,
is unable to taste the afterward freshness of you.
You must understand, however,
that I have no secret wishes in that direction,
no such hopes or ambitions,
for I am realistic in my dreaming,
and I know I shall never be
familiar with your toothbrush.
I like it. Clever way to explore a complex issue using an everyday object/action as a starting point.
Exiting and pleasantly playful. I don't imagine writing about "dental floss" would turn out so creative.
You wrote about it too!! Great fun to see a different view. Thank you for share the challenge. Great!!
A well written piece on the chosen theme, Paul- with hidden symbols meaningfully playing inside...would like to try my own, a lighter one, on this theme
Erik...Hope I am not too late...Just had to try...lol Dorothy A Poet Who Loves To Sing
Challenge taken and brushed lolol~~~~Great write on this oral hygiene instrument theme:)
you have really met the challenge!! what a fun piece!
What a tribute to the lowly, yet supposedly so necessary toothbrush! La, romance played its part as you reminded me of Shakespeare's wish to be more fortunate than "saucy" piano "jacks." Lovely.
You've made an excellent and original poem from an overlooked, everyday object. Nice work. :) kath xxx
a whole new way of looking at a toothbrush..lol Maggie :)
An inspirational piece that meets Plath's toothbrush 'challenge' with aplomb... I'm off to get my pen!!! :)
interesting... great write. love "unable to taste the afterward freshness of you" --- they're quite intimate things, toothbrushes. i can imagine one becoming the turning point in a story. two life-changing scenarios popped into my head straight off. thanks :)))))
Nice to see you're back. One would hope that you would not be familiar with someone elses toothbrush. Point well made.
There was this argument between the toothbrush and the toilet roll on who had the worst Job in the world. Think that you can be an advocate for the toilet roll? No, I didn't think so! Nice write!
you did well with this prosaic object as subject
Ah - - a toothbrush deserves a poetical ode or at least a mention - you have led the way in my friend and maybe I will incline my own thoughts to follow in due course. Hhmmm - known as a romantic poet perhaps I shall compose a dual affair !!! A tastefully brushed feel to this piece.
Dear Erik-- or should I call you Agent 99? ;) --I knew nothing of your decision to write on a toothbrush when I wrote my poem "Brian's Toothbrush." The cause of the poem is explained in the poem itself. Nearly a year after his being killed in an emergency room by the deliberate actions and inactions of a cruel ER doctor, his toothbrush still stands in his little holder that bears the name "Brian." He was my dearest friend ever on this earth, and I grieve for him every single day. As fearful as I am of my own coming fate--which is partly here already, in the form of invading weakness and frequent severe pain--nevertheless, I would willingly bear ten times as much and more, if that could give my precious frined the good and happy life he deserved. // I don't know what possessed Sylvia Plath to utter such a proclamation. Probably she has never put a Gila monster or a barrel cactus or any number of things in a poem. Why she swooped down on a toothbrush for this mention is beyond me. Maybe if I could read the whole story, I would get a clue. // At any rate, my poem was generated in my heart by seeing Brian's toothbrush whenever I am using my own toothbrush. And sometimes, when I see my eyes in the mirror, I remember his eyes, looking at me in a bed that should have been a bed of recovery, but was turned by a murdering doctor--in front of more than a dozen witnesses who cared more about their jobs than stopping him--into his death bed. I see the light in his eyes, and the fear and despair he was feeling after being deliberately starved of all food and water (the oder is called NPO--"nothing by mouth") for nine days despite his weakened state when he was admitted. His poor little body could no longer take the savage abuse that doctor inflicted by orders that the nurses carried out, knowing this would almost certainly kill Brian as weak as he was. His eyes, Brian's eyes, looking at me, the last thing he saw was me, when I came into the room on the call of the night nurse. He was like my brother and like my son. I had been taking care of him for a number of years following a severe and suicidal neverous break-down. I had taught him to love life and cherish it, and not be willing to throw it away to evade pain and sorrow and loss. Well, he learned how to love life, and at least he had a few happy years before he was killed. // I have not accepted any "challenges" for a long time. Even when I do, I always write on something meaningful to me, and there will always be some aspect of the challenge or the contest that is meaningful to me. But my time and energy are truly drained by poetry-writing these days, so I limit myself to my own self-challenges, you might say. Actually, I just write what I'm feeling and thinking and enduring. // I'm glad you liked the poem. If Sylvia Plath had kept in her bathroom the name-labeled personalized cup with the toothbrush of a precious loved one still in it months after his or her death, I am sure she would sooner or later have put a toothbrush in a poem. --Michael. Monday-12-25-2011 2-50 PM PST