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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Man in the Fielddots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: ropedpoet
    ASL Info:    21...male....cali
    Elite Ratio:    5.26 - 42/13/3
    Words: 248
    Class/Type: Poetry/Longing
    Total Views: 861
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1652



    Description:
       this is deffinately one that that has been building deep inside of me.....there is one person who deverves the credit of drawing it out of me and You who You are, thank you, for everything i love You....if there is anything i ask is that if any body reads it please critique if it fancies you, and if critiquing does fancy you please vote it! thank you so much


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

    dotsThe Man in the Fielddots
    -------------------------------------------




    I came to this place,
    Called by unseen voices,
    Forever more shall I remain,
    Bound so,
    Am I inside,
    So am I caught here,
    One may call endless freedom,
    Inspirited by our mothers marrow,
    For I am the man in the field.


    Called the lord of dirt,
    The dust my breath,
    Behold my kingdom,
    You see my face,
    Freckled in moss,
    My eyes ever peering into that loch,
    Endless pools of mindless pondering,
    In my richless prosperity,
    Bearing a cloak of emerald green ivy,
    Behold a bramble crown,
    Lacking the comfort of thorns,
    All around the perpetual reaching hands of trees,
    Such as I my kinsman have no mark,
    For none is lacking.

    Yet they call me complacent,
    Consider the lilies at my feet,
    Does not the whispering wind,
    Carry their sweet scent expeditiously to thee,
    Do you not take into mind my lush army,
    Each soldier bearing his own broken blade,
    So I do tell you now,
    I am content not to gain rest neither in,
    Or through this heart,
    But only to place my head upon it,
    Perceiving every illuminated flame.

    So come seeking my quandary,
    Touching the facets,
    Of this illogical knowledge,
    Turn the rusted wheel,
    Upon this twisted vice,
    Formerly alleged as love.
    That wrenches the cruor from my very soul,
    For I am the man in the field,
    Waiting for something that seemingly,
    Shall never draw near.





    Submitted on 2006-12-05 05:40:39     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      Well i aint goot at giving long ass comments like some sister of mine hehe whome i love lotz!!! but anyway back to the poem.. it was truly brilliant i mean i personaly dont understand it but i can sense a great deal of lonlyness in it and sadness, i wish that now it is better for you well keep up the extrodnary work my love.

    ~ Love
    Ashley
    | Posted on 2006-12-12 00:00:00 | by Bloody_Rain | [ Reply to This ]
      hey huney,

    been a while since i said i would comment im going to do my best. Love this poem by the way so i might be a bit biased. Lets tear this apart shall we.

    "I came to this place,
    Called by unseen voices,
    Forever more shall I remain,
    Bound so,
    Am I inside,
    So am I caught here,
    One may call endless freedom,
    Inspirited by our mothers marrow,
    For I am the man in the field."

    (when im gone dont mourn just rejoyce honey)
    a person or persons who you are bound to but what im confused about is our mothers marrow maybe you can explane that to me. The man in the feild. Ill use what i know about whats behind this and take a guess is that well a feild usually means lonleyness. is that what you mean? you stand alone among those you love? or am i missing the point entirely? i love the tone you use and its beautifuly written honey.
    (sadness etches in the face of time how can i leave you behind?)

    " Called the lord of dirt,
    The dust my breath,
    Behold my kingdom,
    You see my face,
    Freckled in moss,
    My eyes ever peering into that loch,
    Endless pools of mindless pondering,
    In my richless prosperity,
    Bearing a cloak of emerald green ivy,
    Behold a bramble crown,
    Lacking the comfort of thorns,
    All around the perpetual reaching hands of trees,
    Such as I my kinsman have no mark,
    For none is lacking."

    The lord of dirt? what is behind this? i noticed a lot of degrading of this person is used. you use a lot of descriptive but very encrypted what you need to do is loosen up on that or you may intimidate your readers. Also what you need to do is make your statements more clearer. What you need to relize is most of your readers are of young age and you need to reach out to those not just the person or persons you wrote this for. though this is a beautiful poem which i grately love their are parts that mystifie me.
    im really sorry that this isnt my best comment its hard to comment on those who i care for. dont know why just is.(sleep is nothing compared to rest which i cant seem to get in this hollow shell i call myself.)

    "Yet they call me complacent,
    Consider the lilies at my feet,
    Does not the whispering wind,
    Carry their sweet scent expeditiously to thee,
    Do you not take into mind my lush army,
    Each soldier bearing his own broken blade,
    So I do tell you now,
    I am content not to gain rest neither in,
    Or through this heart,
    But only to place my head upon it,
    Perceiving every illuminated flame."

    Complacent...makes one think doesnt it. Your chocie of word intrigues me greatly and i wounder what went through your mind as you placed them there. I know how your mind works a bit yet on this its nothing but fog i guess. Consider the lilies at my feet. to me that is a beautiful image which holds considerable power in the sence of crytic wording. I love the army with broken swords it makes you apear more human than that of a fearless knight. gives more depth to this poem also.
    my favorite part is how you are merely satisfied to be close to that speical persons heart. you dont ask for everything just to be their as you stated. Not to go through or be in just to grace it wtih a touch every now and then. To me thats my favorite part of this poem. you seem to daze a bit though and creep slightly off track but you find your way flawlessly and i love the direction you take with this.

    "So come seeking my quandary,
    Touching the facets,
    Of this illogical knowledge,
    Turn the rusted wheel,
    Upon this twisted vice,
    Formerly alleged as love.
    That wrenches the cruor from my very soul,
    For I am the man in the field,
    Waiting for something that seemingly,
    Shall never draw near."

    illogical knowledge...wounderful lol i can see many words hidden beneath that little line there. many others may not but its there sadly isnt it. Rusted wheel. remindes me of something that hasnt been used or in use in a while that someone came a long and gave a spark. am i even a bit correct in my assumption? what does "cruor" mean by the way? waiting for someone that seemingly.that part makes me think that you still hope for them to come even though your hopes on that isnt very high. Shall draw near gives that point more of a focus and i agree with the choice of wording. Beautifuly written yet a bitter sweet sadness may rise from this my friend.

    all the love
    nikki

    *kisses*
    | Posted on 2006-12-11 00:00:00 | by nikita2u | [ Reply to This ]


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    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.


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