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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Olive Oil Dementiadots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rev.jpfadeproof
    ASL Info:    27/m/nyc
    Elite Ratio:    6.14 - 366/359/149
    Words: 94
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 674
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 739



    Description:
       knowing who one really is can be quite a daunting task at times...we would be wise to keep in mind He that defines us is all we need. certainly a work in progress...


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

    dotsOlive Oil Dementiadots
    -------------------------------------------


    It is I-
    O north wind
    My tongue rummaging
    through the absent air

    Each intermezzo of breath
    swallowed-
    Dominated by the
    concave mirror

    Immersed
    in a malaise
    of olive oil
    dementia

    Languidly I stagger
    through the slough
    gathering every shard
    from my shattered visage

    With painstaking precision
    every piece is shuffled
    into tattered skin

    Falling back
    I mount the south wind
    with Sisyphean desperation
    my lips strangulating the words
    I will not go gently into the night
    pondering endlessly

    Who am I...





    Submitted on 2006-12-04 03:08:49     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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




    ||| Comments |||
      "I will not go gently into the night
    pondering endlessly"

    Neither will I brotha. that was a great line. Discovering who you are can be difficult at times for some. Everything takes time. This was crafted very well and was like a trip back and forth, in and out through wonderful images, vocabulary, and abstract thought put to action. I did enjoy this but my interpretation is the quest for the true self and what I get from it others may not. But I felt power. A sense of knowing what you are here for and who you are and anyone will tell you that I am a fan of strength(not like my latest work!lol) But anyway Good job.

    6
    | Posted on 2007-01-18 00:00:00 | by fryte | [ Reply to This ]
      I am not a big fan of free verse, but this piece flowed so beautifully it is worthy of great praise. Thank you for sharing your talent on this website.
    | Posted on 2006-12-13 00:00:00 | by oixi | [ Reply to This ]
      It is I-
    O north wind
    My tongue rummaging
    through the absent air

    Each intermezzo of breath
    swallowed-
    Dominated by the
    concave mirror

    Immersed
    in a malaise
    of olive oil
    dementia

    Languidly I stagger
    through the slough
    gathering every shard
    from my shattered visage

    With painstaking precision
    every piece is shuffled
    into tattered skin

    Falling back
    I mount the south wind
    with Sisyphean desperation
    my lips strangulating the words
    I will not go gently into the night
    pondering endlessly

    Who am I...



    "If winter comes can spring be far behind?" There appears to be a bit of John Keats' "Ode To The West Wind" in your latest as well as the homage to Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night." Whoever suggested you write in a more stream of conscousness style was certainly doing you a favor. This is one of the better works you've posted and shows promise of the type of writer you can become when you toss the restraints aside. I have to agree with Nan (at least in part) that the size of the vocabulary you use to define your work isn't nearly as important as the idea you wish to convey to the reader. So perhaps a reference to Sisyphus isn't the best means to describe futility to an audience. In general, this a promising start to the rest of your writing career, Reverend.

    Hope some of that helped.
    Take care.
    Bill.
    | Posted on 2006-12-07 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]
      First of all, I love olive oil cooking.

    Your poem titled, "Olive Oil Dementia" is deeply rich in details and complexities.

    Also, I like the photograph of the lady walking away from an outstretched hand.

    There is a connection between the photograph and the poem?

    The vocabulary is advance, but I like the way you use these words, creating a vivid imagery, with metaphors.

    I can only give a slight interpretation of what I think, without getting into the exact meaning of your poem.

    Some poems are like puzzles and pieces to figure out.

    Understanding who we are is a difficult process in life, if we are suffering from any mental deficiencies.

    Does lack of or excess amounts of olive oil causes dementia?

    Overall, the poem is an excellent piece of technical writing and a superb work of art.
    | Posted on 2006-12-06 00:00:00 | by FireFly747 | [ Reply to This ]
      Ok, J.P., let me go through this and tell you my honest opinions/possible suggestions for you to think about, ok?

    It is I-
    O north wind
    My tongue rummaging
    through the absent air


    Great intro. The "O" part, while highly archaic and usually something I'm not fond of, works here, because you're addressing the North Wind, and tells me that this is indeed a 'lofty' piece straight off the bat. "My tongue rummaging through the absent air" is unique and carries connotations of trying to grasp thoughts/ideas to put to paper.

    Each intermezzo of breath
    swallowed-
    Dominated by the
    concave mirror


    I like the "intermezzo of breath" phrase here which joins with your first strophe wonderfully. I'd consider dropping "the" to your last line--some people don't for various reasons, but in this, dropping it to the start of the next line is more 'proper'. I hate to say "proper" but I'm just saying that's how it's usually done... enjambment and all that. Is this "concave mirror" your brain processes, your inner/outer outlook on life? That's what it makes me think.

    Immersed in a
    malaise of
    olive oil
    dementia


    Again, in this strophe, you have weak-end lines ending on "a" and "of". Perhaps something like:
    "Immersed
    in a malaise
    of olive oil
    dementia"

    See what I'm getting at? Stronger end-lines, the stresses being put on those end-words instead of what you had.

    Languidly I stagger
    through the slough
    gathering every shard
    from my shattered visage


    Lots of great sibilant 's' sounds in this makes it flow to me, even though it's jagged in imagery. "Shattered visage" borders on cliché in my honest opinion, but it works for your theme. If you have anything else which fits, have a think about it.

    With painstaking precision
    every piece is shuffled
    into tattered skin.

    Falling back
    I mount the south wind
    with Sisyphean desperation
    my lips strangulating the words
    I will not go gently into the night
    pondering endlessly

    Who am I...


    "Sisyphean", while I know what it means, seems rather too high-flown, even though this is a lofty piece like I said before. Your call but you could just drop it and it would probably have more impact without it, causing less confusion.

    Your Dylan Thomas reference... is interesting, and forms an automatic point of reflection. One part of me likes it, the other doesn't, but I'm not sure why. And, I think you could drop your last line "Who am I" as it seems already implicitly stated. Your call again, of course.

    And that was my review for you. Hope it helps. Honesty's the best policy and you wanted my thoughts, so there you go.

    Peace,

    Jase
    | Posted on 2006-12-05 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
      I was often told by those whom I did not think understood my work that is was too abstract. I understand fully what you're saying here but if you hadn't used the reference to Dylan Thomas it would still be a mystery. What I see is that the language is so lofty that I feel like you're reaching for loftiness rather than communicating with the reader.

    And I apologize, because I 've been reading something historical
    that had the same feel to it. Now, a metaphor that breeds an image in my mind and proceeds with a continuity that I can follow makes me feel welcome. I want to understand your ideas. Poetry is the art of recreating in another's mind, heart and soul what we have felt as we write.

    So I don't have any suggestions because I have your theme, but don't know the map well enough to make any changes. It's just an honest answer, thanks for sharing,

    Nan





    | Posted on 2006-12-05 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      This is intriguing and very different from anything I've read. Good introspective touches here and I like the mirror-skin metaphor. Nice reference at the end to Bob Dylan too. Excellent work.

    Have you ever submitted your work for publication? If this is any indication fo the quality, you should.

    Peace, love and all that other junk,

    Joe
    | Posted on 2006-12-05 00:00:00 | by joeyalphabet | [ Reply to This ]


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