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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: A.F. (check my dental records)dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: geherald
    ASL Info:    26/male/PA
    Elite Ratio:    5.07 - 132/127/42
    Words: 447
    Class/Type: Poetry/Legend
    Total Views: 890
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2930



    Description:
       this is the 7th revision/draft/experiment i wrote for a poetry workshop... its stems from Antanas Frederich, which in turn evolved from On Writing... maybe someone here will enjoy it... its a little long and the end is no where near as good as the beginning, and by no means is this a final peice... now that i have 7 revisions plus the original (and now not really related) poem, i should be able to put together one hell of a epic... and i will sometime...


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsA.F. (check my dental records)dots
    -------------------------------------------


    A. F. (check my dental records)

    Tigger and Pooh, would make a great
    start, but this is about
    Anatanas Frederich, the poet master. Who
    entered into a love affair
    love with an
    octopus and an
    aardvark just to see what
    half-ass media remarks would come of it.
    Friendly were the creatures, especially if he gave them
    apples, or petted them
    over the eyes. But this is about
    how Antanas Frederich writes with
    terror in his eyes,
    the terror of losing his wife, after they were
    together for 20+ years. The
    chemistry never fading, though she was
    loquacious to the extreme, she was an
    ample
    fuck.
    Time and time again, he sees the
    world through her eyes – in 8-bit color like an ancient
    Nintendo.
    When he writes, he still does it for her
    as he did when they first met, and he took her
    home that night,
    helped her get undressed, and it
    began.
    Seeing her
    that night, he couldn’t resist the
    temptations. And the next day he said he was
    sorry, but she didn’t buy it and just
    over a month later, they were married
    permanently.
    He wrote her a love poem on
    their special day,
    on love,
    on life,
    forever together it read.
    Then she got cancer,
    the doctors said no more beef, so she bought
    Tofu, and he ate it with her.
    Twenty years, 7 remissions, and 3 kids later she died.
    Missed now by her family, but still
    married in heart and
    mind to her
    own great
    poet, who has to write to stay alive.
    On he writes
    attempting to complete
    his greatest work. And
    when he dies
    because he knows he will,
    under his name on his
    tomb, they will write – “A Poet to his
    Final Day.”
    Only then will he be
    free to
    once again be with his wife.
    And the great and wonderful poet
    extraordinaire will not have to
    bring his ‘A’ game to the
    table, instead
    allowing others to
    bring theirs.
    Still,
    as the greatest living poet,
    he feels that he must
    save his best for the end.
    Hoping that it comes sooner rather than later, that
    heaven has nice typewriters and
    nicer editors.
    And wishing that his children would get
    over the rejection feeling of a poet father, who
    never wanted them to feel unwanted,
    only he didn’t know how to
    accomplish such a feat, instead
    having their mother around for
    love and support for all sides of
    this dysfunctional family. But then she died
    and the kids haven’t been home,
    so he instead writes his final piece, vowing to
    never again put pen to paper.





    Submitted on 2006-08-29 18:58:23     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




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