a few of mine, diversity and regrets included

The use of mizzling: an interesting juxtaposition between the Middle English meaning of a rain finer than drizzle as the "fog" that appears before and the slang meaning of a sudden departure like the "go" at the end. Was this intended?

Yes. I liked the fact 'mizzle' meant the same as 'go' in slang form. Just another word I discovered through one of my dictionary trawls. I have some older ones that are full of words not seen so often nowadays, having fallen into misuse or neglect. And some are too pleasant to pass by.

p.s thanks for noticing :kiss:
 
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I like how sometimes, usually toward the end of stanzas, certain sounds seem to stand out, I mean in general terms.

But also in this poem, the quiet hollow fairly screams in the first stanza because of the foreignness of the sounds

quiet

quite a violent word from a vocal-apparatus perspective, especially in the context of the other sounds.
kw, t ... glottal stops or something, aren't they? I don't remember the terms anymore, but I think very effective there.

i think you've done a beautiful job with sound in this poem! my god i haven't even looked to see what the words mean!


I love a stifled dawn creeps slow upon

I read the first line of the third stanza like this:
It steals the death from small bur-OH
(so caught up in the sound was I)

well done
goodness. thankyou :D
sounds - a lot of what i write's dictated by sound. sometimes sound maybe gets too much attention, or i find i fall back on it when writing live more than when i'm taking time considering each image, metaphor, and all that stuff :eek: i shouldn't allow sound to dictate to me the way it does at times but i don't know where i'd be without it. thankyou very much for your kind thoughts.

oh, I also read that as buh-rOH, rather than burrow



this one actually came about after watching some documentary about poisonous gas that got released from a lake bed due to some lightning strikes (i think) - the lake was high above a valley and the gasses spilled down during the night hours, killing everything that breathed before evaporating into nothingness.
 
I understood 'massy', I thought it was a good usage. 'Betwixt' is one of those words that might never be good to use unless it's the punch-line of a joke, irony or something. Bridge and Heretics are the two I like best. All Strangely, I couldn't help disliking everything after the first three verses, because you told me to. I had to empathize with you.

That's something I'd like to talk about, people do that in prose and poetry, say 'Read this, it's good, but this part sucks, or this I don't like at all.' I think it's better to keep quiet on what you don't like in your writing, it skews the reader's opinion and criticism. If you know something is lackluster you can still get the criticism for it and go on and make the changes. I just don't think it's good letting people in on the flaws of a specific poem before they read it. We actually had an unfinished poems thread, but I'd try to stay away from presenting any poem as unfinished, have someone tell you why it's incomplete.

betwixt is an awful word that should never, almost never, get used. i would not use it now. I opted for it as I also used 'has't' and 'is't' but edited them later. and sound again seemed to allow for it. but no-way would i go there now. like 'intertwined', it's a big no-no as far as i'm concerned. :D


And (sigh) yes, you're quite right, too, about not putting that sort of pre-emptive comment before a work. As they were old pieces it didn't seem so important but your post shows me i was wrong. again :D thanks.


p.s

i was chuffed to find a place to use chryselephantine, though :D:D:D
another word i'd found that nagged to be shown a little love. (shoot me)
 
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goodness. thankyou :D
sounds - a lot of what i write's dictated by sound. sometimes sound maybe gets too much attention, or i find i fall back on it when writing live more than when i'm taking time considering each image, metaphor, and all that stuff :eek: i shouldn't allow sound to dictate to me the way it does at times but i don't know where i'd be without it. thankyou very much for your kind thoughts.

sound is something i think i've neglected at times, but it seems desperately important to play around with, imo. think of children learning phonics or something... the whole thing is sounds to some degree :)

oh, I also read that as buh-rOH, rather than burrow



this one actually came about after watching some documentary about poisonous gas that got released from a lake bed due to some lightning strikes (i think) - the lake was high above a valley and the gasses spilled down during the night hours, killing everything that breathed before evaporating into nothingness.

that sounds like a totally creepy doc :eek:
 
all sorrows

are ancient
compressed
beneath oceans
within rocks
aligned with true north
and pulling
always pulling

as breezes stir the citrus groves
sorrow's olive voice
seeps into veins
slides across landscapes
further generations
come to know its taste

beneath the sun
the land exudes its sadnesses

and deep within each cypress clump
each crystalled mound
each sigh, each cry from dreaming throat
each fin, each scale
each mountain, tooth and moss
in all things touched or untouched by the sun
sorrow breathes

all sorrows
one
 
dichotomy

the core of me
sleek and silver shuttle
a seamless ear of corn

what contrast with
this troubled cage
of flesh
 
backsliding

on those green days
when dreams forget they've long been put aside
so easy to get lost
again
 
clean

some poems
like winter-trees
need no leaves
 
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estranged

how to communicate with the moon
when it sails so high
so lofty
a blind eye
indifferent to semaphore
and ill-equipped to receive thoughts
launched
in a rocketship
 
glass lives

throw no stones
glassman's walking
one eye to crepuscular sky
measuring for depths of tint
one ear alert and listening
for fear of flying machines -
rudimentary wings and a sting

polite literature fails to excite him
he's troubled by deities
invoking diplomacy
considering, with care, hypotheticals

he's restless
warmth and friction are unnatural
to those who can't risk getting broken

don't speak so loudly
now's not a good time for tantrums


glassman steps carefully
avoiding precipices
the stone-throwers
can't entertain the volatile
rues the travesty of such brittle living
compressed as he is
in see-through skin

thoughts focus, flatten
force-feed his mind till
he feels ripe to shatter

glassmen
with their glass lives
do what they do
how they do
when they do
to survive
 
in a physical world

i am stranger than light
this quintessential I
lighter than air
and trapped within these fleshly confines
my
parameters of skin

i feel it
alive
without form
or mass

animating this incredible vehicle
this prison of blood, and bone
this gift of nerve and sinew

i hum like a pylon
the energy crackling
sometimes leaping
across the gaps in bursts of static blue
to connect with the power
of another
 
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in a physical world

i am stranger than light
this quintessential me
lighter than air
and trapped within these fleshly confines
my
parameters of skin

i feel it
alive
without form
or mass

animating this incredible vehicle
this prison of blood, and bone
this gift of nerve and sinew

i hum like a pylon
the energy crackling
sometimes leaping
across the gaps in bursts of static blue
to connect with the power
of another

Wonderful. Loved the energy building up, seeking release in a meaningful way. Made me anticipate by the end of it some kind of cataclysm, ephinany, or intercourse, ie, a variety of wondeful outcomes with someone of equal energy and desire.

I think "I" instead of "me" in L2 is more grammatically correct, although "me" is commonly used. Nonetheless, I also like the sound of "I," looping back as it does with the subject pronoun of the first line, but admit that I have a bias towards indirect rhyme, near rhyme, and properly placed repetition of words in an attempt to achieve more music in a poem. Might be a little too much "i" along with "my," "light," "lighter," and "i" starting the second stanza, but not for me.

In any event, this poem certainly has a nice "hum" to it.

Not sure why you inserted the comma in L2 of the 3rd stanza.
 
Wonderful. Loved the energy building up, seeking release in a meaningful way. Made me anticipate by the end of it some kind of cataclysm, ephinany, or intercourse, ie, a variety of wonderful outcomes with someone of equal energy and desire.

I think "I" instead of "me" in L2 is more grammatically correct, although "me" is commonly used. Nonetheless, I also like the sound of "I," looping back as it does with the subject pronoun of the first line, but admit that I have a bias towards indirect rhyme, near rhyme, and properly placed repetition of words in an attempt to achieve more music in a poem. Might be a little too much "i" along with "my," "light," "lighter," and "i" starting the second stanza, but not for me.

In any event, this poem certainly has a nice "hum" to it.

Not sure why you inserted the comma in L2 of the 3rd stanza.

hey there :D
thanks for commenting on these. some from the dusty folders I'm putting up to keep them together online in case i ever lose my hard drive again.

I'm glad you make that suggestion, about the 'I'. I like that. Probably was concerned with too much weight on the 'I' sounds originally, but yes, it creates that loop. ta muchly :)

I might change up that crackling and leaping to crackles and leaps while I'm about it.

The comma - hmmm, could have gone for a line-break there but preferred the look of it as one line, but wanted the reader to read it with that break afforded by the comma. For me, it places greater emphasis on blood and then and bone - so i used the comma to mimic how I'm reading it aloud.

thanks again x
 
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all sorrows

are ancient
compressed
beneath oceans
within rocks
aligned with true north
and pulling
always pulling

as breezes stir the citrus groves
sorrow's olive voice
seeps into veins
slides across landscapes
further generations
come to know its taste

beneath the sun
the land exudes its sadnesses

and deep within each cypress clump
each crystalled mound
each sigh, each cry from dreaming throat
each fin, each scale
each mountain, tooth and moss
in all things touched or untouched by the sun
sorrow breathes

all sorrows
one

that's really beautiful
I like each cry and the first two paragraphs especially

dichotomy

the core of me
sleek and silver shuttle
a seamless ear of corn

what contrast with
this troubled cage
of flesh

I like the image of the cage of flesh
and the sleek and silver shuttle

backsliding

on those green days
when dreams forget they've long been put aside
so easy to get lost
again

oh yeah, personification, that gives me an idea ... LOL



glass lives

throw no stones
glassman's walking
one eye to crepuscular sky
measuring for depths of tint
one ear alert and listening
for fear of flying machines -
rudimentary wings and a sting

polite literature fails to excite him
he's troubled by deities
invoking diplomacy
considering, with care, hypotheticals

he's restless
warmth and friction are unnatural
to those who can't risk getting broken

don't speak so loudly
now's not a good time for tantrums


glassman steps carefully
avoiding precipices
the stone-throwers
can't entertain the volatile
rues the travesty of such brittle living
compressed as he is
in see-through skin

thoughts focus, flatten
force-feed his mind till
he feels ripe to shatter

glassmen
with their glass lives
do what they do
how they do
when they do
to survive

warmth and friction are unnatural
to those who can't risk getting broken


Amen to that, sister.

in a physical world

i am stranger than light
this quintessential me
lighter than air
and trapped within these fleshly confines
my
parameters of skin

i feel it
alive
without form
or mass

animating this incredible vehicle
this prison of blood, and bone
this gift of nerve and sinew

i hum like a pylon
the energy crackling
sometimes leaping
across the gaps in bursts of static blue
to connect with the power
of another

I like when you think of people in terms of the physical, the slimy stuff beneath the skin...:)
 
thanks, Pablo, for reading and commenting on these!
glad you found some bits you enjoyed. :)
 
listen

with a mouth full of broken glass
i try to make you understand my
fear of blood
 
colder

the broken cry
of an unseen gull
hangs

as if a heart spoke
those desolate notes
neither answered
nor repeated
 
crazy carousel

you
are the ashes in my eyes
the flat stone on my tongue
the shroud that binds me
the silence in my ears
and the one and only thought -
beginning to end -
that spins, a crazy carousel,
in the dark and static room
that is my mind
 
dog days

the grey dog rests
her bones in the shade
eyes half open
ears muffled by age

she's quiet except for
the wheeze of slow breathing
but make no mistake
she's watchful and smart

though stamina's failing
and teeth are half broken
she's wily and wary
still able to bite
 
the butterfly effect

the butterfly spreads
wings red with tension

the next quake predictable
inevitable





aftermath

high on a hill
picnickers watch flames approach
smoked chicken and champagne





overtaken by night

dirty with weeping
broken hearts, broken minds
lurch like drunks through darkened streets
pain radiates in waves

black tide, a tidal surge
yet each heart hurts alone





epicenter

once, you were the epicenter of my tremors
when quaking limbs rejoiced in such bright madness
and perception lost all clarity
confused by passion's
garbled codicils
 
love

this
is my model
it's based on theory
observation
and experiment

like all models
it's unsound and subject to change

nothing is sacrosanct
 
impasse

crag and fissure defy interpretation
offer up no clues
to fingertips grown numb
on
translation's impossible climb

deaf and blind
i cannot read you

you
choose to say nothing
shoulders hunched against the light
 
the shape of the thing

who can tell me the shape of madness?
what varicose seas drive forth
in tension of the blood
what sad, voluptuous dreams become
escape from inner voices
as they burn the heretics -
over and over
 
serpents

when hands slip, liquid, past the hour
when they hesitate and blur
linger longer than they should, I know
the serpents come

to wrap their heavy coils about me
to press their thoughts of empty eyes
and rictus mouths upon me
to seal this tryst with poison

kissing apathy, they pull me down
into a midnight darker than my making
a bitter landscape, barren but for wishes
writhing in a heat to desiccate the flesh

and when this, too, is gone
the way of all that's gone before
and I'm left chilled
alone with nothing but the memories
of all the doors you've shut on me
I'm left crawling into sleep -
hoping not to dream of faces
 
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