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Spotlights and Shadows

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I. To a Limelight Leech

O swankpot of the swish-and-swagger ilk
Basking in your braggadocio glow,
__You stoop so long and low
To lap up flattery as slick as silk
That spills from ovine swine of kiss-arse lip.
__This eely spiel
Propels your ego on an oily trip.
You rocket in a role that trumps the real.

O preening peacock of the plastic flock,
O tinsel-hearted, glitter-glutted peach,
__The puffery you preach
Makes feather-ruffled rivals quick to mock.
Your grand and groundless flounce to centre stage
__Puts showboat sheen
Above the gleam of merit’s golden age
With glitz that glints in irises of green.

O icon of the glib and gaudy cause,
O paragon of sequin-souled panache,
__Your razzle-dazzle splash—
The soaring roar that summons false applause,
Has lured the very devil from his pit
__To learn just how
A bauble-bellied snake becomes a hit.
O Limelight Leech, you’ve earned my bogus bow.

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II. Mister Mirrorless

He peers into the mirror, yet he never seems to see
The image peering back at him—as batty as can be.
He gels his hair, with snap and flair he floats into the night.
With hunger clawing at his bones—he’s ready for a bite.

To sate his snarling appetite—to gag the growl within—
He glides beneath the lunar light—his palate set for sin.
He sniffs a whiff of horror in the torrid twilight air—
Aioli sauce? He changes course to dine where devils dare.

He nuzzles and he nibbles. He guzzles and he licks.
The flesh of fragrant dishes is his sanguinary fix.
He pecks and sucks, adjusts his tux, then darts before the dawn.
Shadowless he hovers home across the dew-kissed lawn.

He peers into the mirror, yet he never seems to see
The image peering back at him—as batty as can be.

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III. Demon Daddy

This lofty exorcist of saintly light
Berates blaspheming fiends of spleen and spit.
Before the lunchtime-sun has flexed its might
He scorches shrieking beasties in a snit:
A sear of aqua magic and a psalm,
A whisper of the great and goodly ghost,
A pious flourish purging inner harm,
A chug of charm to chill the fevered host,
Forces ghouls engorged with gall to flee
To shady spaces at the murky core
Of sorcerers too virtuous to see
A serpent sliding through their own back door.
The mad moon and the owl have always known
An exorcist has demons of his own.

first published in Snakeskin

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Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.

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33 Responses

  1. Mark Stellinga

    ‘Swankpot??’ Sounds like someone’s been watching the Golden Globe Awards again! 🙂 We appear to share identical perspectives on ‘celebrity’, Susan. A top-notch trio of world class poetry…

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Mark, I thoroughly appreciate your kind words of encouragement. I am thrilled you enjoyed these cheeky observations.

      Reply
  2. Josh Olson

    I really enjoyed reading these poems—thank you for sharing! The use of diction and internal rhyme is really delightful. I found “Limelight Leech” very therapeutic 🙂

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Josh, thank you very much indeed! I was hoping “Limelight Leech” would shine. I’m glad it did for you.

      Reply
  3. Roy Eugene Peterson

    The continuing brilliance of your alliterations, phrases, words, and rhymes is astonishing, amusing, and entertaining at the very least. The garlic in the aioli sauce would likely have me going elsewhere or my date refusing to kiss me after a sampling. There is usually a serious side and meaning to your poetry and these are no exception.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Roy, thank you for your perspicacious and appreciative comment. There is a serious side, but I’m glad the sound of music masked it – no pun intended. Go easy on the aioli!

      Reply
  4. Joseph S. Salemi

    “Limelight Leech” is one helluva poem — the absolutely anti-modernist in-your-face impudence of it! You’ve given orthodox workshop leaders cardiac arrest, Susan.

    I was going to say that your over-the-top diction shows bravery, but I have decided that such a judgment is inadequate. Your diction shows sheer, unbridled “go-swive-yourself” contempt for The Plain Language Thought Police! “O swankpot of the swish-and-swagger ilk” starts off the poem with a savage roundhouse right, and “ovine swine of kiss-arse lip” is a merciless left hook. I could go on, but no need — at the end of this poem your target is flat on the canvas, down for the full count.

    The “Mister Mirrorless” sonnet is equally feisty, but I confess I was a bit confused about the target’s vice. At first I thought he was a lecher, but then it seemed that he was a glutton, out for food. The unifying word is “batty,” which I have always taken to mean crazy, weird, or somewhat demented.

    I’m somewhat at a loss when it comes to “Demon Daddy.” It could be about a real exorcist, or perhaps Susan is using the idea of an exorcist as some kind of figurative comment on a personality type. I really need the comments of other readers to help me out.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      I won’t get a chance until tomorrow to comment substantively on Susan’s delightful trio of incredible poems. But, Joe, I wanted to briefly address “Mister Mirrorless” which, unless I’m much mistaken, has as its subject a vampire. This explains the lack of image in the mirror, the battiness, the hunger for a bite, the whiff of horror, the sanguinary fix, the gelled hair, the tux and the moonlight excursion… Batty, of course, is a double entendre here. Part of the fun of this poem is taking a monster and describing him as if he were simply the neighbor down the street (the aioli sauce is a delicious touch.) In fact, that may be a major point of the poem. These days, he IS the neighbor down the street.

      Reply
      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Brian, thank you for this insightful take on “Mister Mirrorless” – what a tastefully attired, cold and soulless cad he is! And yes, I’ve seen a few of them in the neighborhood.

    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Joe, thank you so very much! I just love your creative take on “Limelight Leech” – which is a work of art that rivals my poem and has stirred my muse from her Saturday slumber. I had huge fun writing all three of these, but “Limelight Leech” is one of those poems that had me laughing throughout the creative process – a definite bonus in these dismal times, and further proof that I don’t suffer for my art… I leave the suffering to the modernists you mention, who can’t seem to get enough of it.

      I’m most interested in the confusion surrounding the “Mister Mirrorless” and “Demon Daddy”, as I would very much appreciate your advice. My intent was to present three very different characters with one thing in common. Here is my interpretation:

      All three characters live in a world of show and shadow All present polished images while concealing flaws or hungers beneath – the parasitic narcissist feeding off adulation from others; the predatory lothario oozing charm and feasting lustily on the souls of others not realizing he doesn’t have one himself; and the hypocritical, unselfaware virtue signaler with invisible demons of his own.

      I wanted each poem to stand alone, yet to gain from being presented together. Perhaps this is a mistake, and I would love to hear your views. Joe, as ever, I appreciate your fine eye.

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Susan, I’m glad if I can help. Of the three poems I think “Limelight Leech” is the most successful, since the satiric target is clear (the poem’s title says it all). And the reality of that target stands out even in the intense maelstrom of wild language that you have used.

        I needed Brian Yapko’s help in understanding that the second poem is about a vampire — I missed the double-entendre of “batty” as referring to vampiric bats as well as to insanity. And I should have remembered that in the old Bela Lugosi films, Count Dracula often shape-shifted into a small bat. But when you call the figure a Lothario it’s clear that the idea of a vampire is being used figuratively to mean a sexual predator who sucks life out of his victims. Perhaps it’s even wider than mere sexual predation — there are some people who will just attach themselves to others as parasites, draining those others of energy and emotion and maybe life itself.

        “Demon Daddy” is the toughest one. You’re using the “exorcist” image as a symbol of the obnoxious, intrusive virtue-signaler who goes around correcting everyone’s language and behavior and thought to fit an ideological pattern, even though the “exorcist” has unrecognized demons in his own makeup. OK, I can see that now.

        There’s no reason not to put all three together, since they share the characteristic of being three poems of attack. If I have any criticism, it’s this: an astute reader will have no difficulty with the first poem, because the target is clearly identified. But while the other two are excellent artifacts of language — nobody questions your top-notch abilities with diction, syntax, and meter — nevertheless at the same time they are not quite clear as to who or what the target is.

        Now I don’t mean to say that absolute clarity is always required in a poem. That’s not the case. In fact, mystery and ambiguity and uncertainty are part and parcel of our trade as wordsmiths. And some great poems are great simply because of their riddling resonances and their double-edged possibilities of meaning.

        But I think we have a genre issue to consider. Any poem of attack, whether a satire or lampoon or parody or philippic or hate poem, ought to make the target of its attack very clear, either in the title or somewhere in the verse itself. These three poems of yours are fine, and in fact I wouldn’t change a word in any of them, not even the second and third. Indeed, these latter two poems should NOT be changed, since the linguistic elaboration and detail in them are too perfect to mess with. All I’m saying is that, as a general rule, an attack poem must make it clear who the target is, and only then zero in for a head shot.

        About “hate poems” — before any moralists start raising Cain about my “unethical” or “blasphemous” listing of them in the above paragraph, let me tell them to stop and think first. Our canon of English poetry is filled with poems of hatred, spite, anger, contempt, and vengeance. Dorothy Parker wrote an entire series called “Poems of Hate,” and each one is lengthy, detailed, unforgiving, and hysterically funny. We poets inhabit a licensed zone of hyper-reality, where anything goes.

      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Joe, thank you very much indeed for your interesting and most helpful advice, especially on the clearly-identified-target front. It makes perfect sense. I made my vampire and exorcist more mysterious to allow the reader to bring their thoughts to the pieces, but I can see how the clarity of the first poem overshadows other two in their obscurity. I also appreciate your wise words on “hate poems” which has me aching to read Dorothy Parker’s “Poems of Hate” – the rebellious title is calling to me… loudly. Shakespeare has dealt with the subject of hate beautifully in his works. Hate is an in-your-face fact of life that some of the best literature, comedy, and box-office hits have addressed magnificently. And it amazes me that those who harbor a hatred for hate are the most hateful! Wow! That sounds like the subject for another poem.

        One of the huge advantages of publishing on this site is the comments section. It has assisted me greatly in my craft. Thanks again for taking the time to help me.

      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Get the paperback book, “Not Much Fun: The Lost Poems of Dorothy Parker,” edited by Stuart Y. Silverstein. It’s inexpensive and filled with great stuff that for years was not available. It also has an excellent introductory biography of Parker, and meticulous notes.

      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Joe, thank you for this. I’ve ordered a copy on eBay for less than $5 – I look forward to reading it!

  5. Warren Bonham

    All three are fantastic. Limelight Leech hits closest to home for me and expresses much better than I could ever hope to how loathsome such people are. Any bauble-bellied snake with the ability to impress the devil has really accomplished something extraordinarily evil.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Warren, thank you very much for your encouraging comment. The beauty of hyperbole in poetry is that one can go over the top to get a point across, and I had such fun doing just that. As has always been the case, we are living in a world of truth and lies… and my wild Muse loves to don her feather boa and tiara and laugh like a sequined hyena at the absurdities of the world.

      Reply
  6. Frank Rable

    Wow! A treat, all of your poems! I especially fancied “To a Limelight Leech” So clever! Now I’ve been trying to get my wife Mary to sit still and listen as I read poetry to her. Well this shall be a hit,I’m sure.
    Now I don’t understand why women like vampire men so much. First of all, THEY ARE SELFISH! Their needs first, every time. Then, if he doesn’t kill you outright, he takes away your will, and you must obey. Sort of like my stepmother in law. The bat? No. Not her. The vampire bat. Do you really want one those flying about your parlor? Hell no!
    Finally, he’s got to have a nauseating smell, don’t you think? Sort of an Eau de Blood’n Grave thing going on? No,the mansion,the antiques, the tux,the accent, even the spider eating servants. Not enough, I say!

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Frank, you have me laughing out loud with your delightful comment which paints a superb image with an eloquent olfactory obnoxiousness that surrounds me in a pong that has me gagging – words made putrid flesh, indeed! Please don’t read “Mr. Mirrorless” to Mary during lunch! I am thrilled you enjoyed my offerings, and thank you very much for making my Saturday shine.

      Reply
      • Frank Rable

        Miss Susan
        Please return to “Life on this Boat” for my answer to your comment.

        My ego awaits.

  7. Cynthia L Erlandson

    These are a veritable circus of your verbal gymnastics, Susan! And I also love the way you’ve used lines of pentameter and dimeter, and kept the same pattern of them throughout all of the stanzas.

    My first impression is that these poems sound like riddles, although “Limelight Leach” is not as perplexing. I don’t have any desire to watch the Golden Globes, but this poem could represent any attention-crazy performer. (In fact, when I came to “He gels his hair” in “Mister Mirrorless”, I looked back and thought the Limelight Leach could be one of those obnoxious televangelists — whom I have no desire to watch, either.)

    In any case, thanks for the very enjoyable reading!

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Cynthia, what a great comment for which I am over the moon to receive. I just love your circus-of-verbal-gymnastics comment. I believe I have several muses – a juggler, a lion-tamer, a trapeze artist, and a clown. Sometimes they collide with their musings, and this series is the result. You have me laughing out loud with your televangelists observation. My juggler and clown have taken note! Cynthia, thank you very much!

      Reply
  8. Brian Yapko

    This trio of poems, Susan, under one heading of Spotlights and Shadows, is filled with observant wit concerning certain character types in society. I have read through them several times now and believe I well understand why you have grouped them together. These are descriptions of three different types of people who all suffer from a common soul-sickness – narcissism. Your work is satire but it is also practically diagnostic. One could almost imagine some ancient textbook describing personality types to beware of – the self-absorbed spotlight-hog, the oblivious psychic vampire, the prideful cleric.

    “Limelight Leech” is indeed the most focused of your portraits. This is largely because you address the subject in the second person and this clarifies your accusations of shallow, destructive behavior and values: “Your grand and groundless flounce to centre stage/Puts showboat sheen/Above the gleam of merit’s golden age.” The second person address gives a lot of heft to the criticism. It’s that “how dare you” focus (sorry, Greta) which makes it particularly laser-sharp. Cross-examining a witness tends to be more emotionally involving than offering a narrative summary. I think that change of point of view may be one reason why Dr. Salemi and others see the second and third poems as less clear in target than the first poem. We go from hot accusation to withering description and that shifting of gears may cause the second and third poems to not receive the appreciation that they deserve as excellent poems. Moving to third person narrative has reduced the emotional investment.

    Not that this change of voice in any way detracts from the excellence of “Mister Mirrorless” and “Demon Daddy” (great alliterative titles, both. In fact, all three. Which again suggests the correctness of grouping them together and the suggestion that they are diagnostic descriptions of types.) I’ve discussed the vampiric aspect of Mirrorless in a previous comment responsive to Joseph Salemi. Let me just add that this is not merely a portrait of a Bram Stoker-like vampire. The aioli and the dewy grass make it clear that this is someone a bit closer to home. People on the street, perhaps. Or a neighbor. But the focus you really put on with that mirror is lack of ability to see himself – a lack of introspection perhaps. And the battiness which comes with being so self-absorbed that you don’t know how to relate to others except to use them, feed off of them… in other words, a psychic vampire. I’ve known one or two in my day.

    Finally, Demon Daddy is a particularly intriguing poem because it twists imagery of helpfulness and spirituality into their exact opposite, even to the point of serving (as Screwtape would put it) “His father below.” How careful you are with your words. What other poet would conceive of “lunchtime sun” rather than high noon, scorching sun, a hundred other types of sun. But you went for the sun which oversees a much-deserved hearty meal. Which tells us a lot about the subject cleric. I could go on with many other linguistic gems here – the trivializing of demons into beasties. But most significant to me is the reference to “sorcerers too virtuous to see a serpent…” That’s the crux of the poem, isn’t it? The idea that despite the trappings of the ritual and the holy water etc. the individual (and type) you describe is not a cleric so much as a sorcerous charlatan who is so focused on his or her own amazing attributes that he/she has become blind to the evil that this pride encourages to flourish. It’s maddening because it’s a very real phenomenon among clerics. Many a priest, minister and rabbi has become so arrogantly confident of his/her understanding of scripture that they encourage evil rather than virtue. All before that hearty lunch.

    Thank you for three very thought-provoking poems, Susan.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Brian, I always look forward to your thoughtful, perspicacious, and always interesting perspective, and this is a thoroughly engaging comment that brings clarity to my poetry. I went with my instincts on this series, with the order, the point of view, and the characters portrayed, so it’s a privilege to receive an in-depth analysis of the choices I made.

      There seems to be an epidemic of narcissism these days. I find the subject fascinating. I am certain many of us harbor mild traits, but what fun is there in creating a poem depicting mild traits – wild traits are more my thing, and I’m thrilled you enjoyed them. I thoroughly appreciate your take on the second and third person address, with my Thunbergian approach being (quite naturally) the loudest voice of the three – a voice of accusation and not description, making it so much bolder in tone. This makes perfect sense, and I hadn’t spotted it myself. Your lawyer’s eye brings clarity to my chaotic offerings. Thank you!

      Your take on “Mr. Mirrorless” is spot-on. You get exactly what I tried to do with this one. I wanted to show the vampiric traits of the narcissist next door. And I am particularly pleased with your analysis and appreciation of “Demon Daddy” – especially the finer details, which I gave a lot of thought to. This spot-on observation says it all, succinctly and superbly: “… a sorcerous charlatan who is so focused on his or her own amazing attributes that he/she has become blind to the evil that this pride encourages to flourish” – excellent! And it would appear, we have many sorcerous charlatan’s sullying our institutions in these dodgy days of heightened hubris.

      Brian, thank you very much indeed for taking the time to plumb the depths of these poems to get to the message I was aiming to make. The feedback on this series has been invaluable. I still have an awful lot to learn, and the journey excites me.

      Reply
  9. James Sale

    Hi Susan, remind me in an email not to upset you! These are marvellous invectives. “… from ovine swine of kiss-arse lip” is just wonderful, but I love even more the brilliant “He peers into the mirror, yet he never seems to see / The image peering back at him—as batty as can be.” a sort of mirror image reflected back in the final two lines: a sort of structural epanalepsis (?if that is the correct term!) Very inventive indeed.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      James, I can’t imagine an English gentleman of your sublimely sunny nature upsetting a single soul… unless of course they happen to be mentioned in “The English Cantos” – and that doesn’t count. Thank you very much for your encouraging comment and especially for a new figure of speech I will add to my list. I have never heard the word “epanalepsis” – and I am so enchanted with this discovery that I’m bothered not one jot about displaying my sheer ignorance in front of esteemed poets of lofty heights.

      Reply
  10. Martin Briggs

    Susan, the fact that these poems have prompted such detailed and enthusiastic observations as above testifies to their interest and value. I admire them enormously. I only wish I could come up with such entertaining ideas and express them so stylishly.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Martin, thank you very much this beautiful and encouraging comment, all the more special coming from the author of the exquisite “Vesper” – your words are much appreciated.

      Reply
  11. Paulette Calasibetta

    Susan, truly you are a master of verse! I especially like “Mister Mirrorless”… “He pecks and sucks, adjusts his tux, then darts before the dawn” … undeniably a poignant image that Dracula would approve. LOL.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Thank you very much, Paulette. I had huge fun writing “Mr. Mirrorless” – I’m glad you enjoyed my batty cad.

      Reply
  12. Mike Bryant

    Susan, you know that ‘To a Limelight Leech’ is, in my opinion, one of your best ever. But, Brian’s comments have me looking at ‘Demon Daddy’ in a whole new way. Exorcists are the good guys, right? But the evil exorcist is not missing from folklore and literature. You’ve resurrected this pitiful persona at the perfect hour. Today, it seems as if many believe they have the answers that will drive those demons from everyone else! These angels of light hold the deepest darknesses and will never stop with their recruiting. The damage they have done is incalculable. I know… I was an altar boy!
    When will they dust off their sandals and leave us alone?

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Thank you, biggest fan! And what a chilling and thought-provoking comment. Sadly, it’s usually those in the most powerful positions who use their revered status to crush others… and they will never dust off their sandals.

      Reply
  13. Adam Sedia

    These to me exemplify your style, with rich sonority and diction, a deep attention to the words and sounds — yet paradoxically not used for an overtly visual effect. Your descriptions are very much studies of character, giving your poems a strong didactic nature. These were lovely to read out loud.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Adam, I thoroughly appreciate your encouraging comment. I love the musicality of language and I enjoy reading poetry aloud, so your words are extra special to me. Human nature fascinates me, and often shapes my poetry. I’m so glad you enjoyed the result. Thank you!

      Reply

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