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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: half-lifedots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    57/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2777/1297/258
    Words: 48
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 630
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 384



    Description:
       ~for the haunted~


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

    dotshalf-lifedots
    -------------------------------------------


    she wore long sleeves
    to hide the scars
    swimming
    just beneath her skin...

    pulsing melodies
    trapped in brackish bone
    silently caressed
    her lips...

    hell isn't at all
    what I imagined
    she thought
    I've rented rooms
    round here before...

    I wonder where the fire is?




    Submitted on 2007-03-03 10:29:50     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Ok first, just from the description I got chills.
    I mean we're all haunted in one way or another aren't we...yes I think so. For most it's some thing they can turn off or away from...pretend it's not there or doesn't really affect them.
    But I think if you're truly honest with yourself seeing and realizing it's there helps to put things into perspective on how to lighten the load...I'm so sick right now and not making much sense...sorry


    she wore long sleeves
    to hide the scars
    swimming
    just beneath her skin...


    That is way beyond anything I can but into words. The scars that are deeper then the visual...emotional and ever lasting in such a different way. Always twisting and ripping the core or your being...some times so much so that we're in a constant state of 'Hell' within your own bodies/mind. It can literally kill some and forever torture others.



    pulsing melodies
    trapped in brackish bone
    silently caressed
    her lips...



    That can be read by my eyes so many different way it boggles my mind...seriously
    I read it and reread it and I keep getting this image of a bare boned woman wearing despair
    like vintage clothing and sipping tears from a dirty wine glass...all the while she's almost smiling with disgust, as if in remembrance or reflection of a taunting past.

    You really have this way of making us feel...and I do mean just that...FEEL
    I can't even begin to tell you what most of your writes do to me...as it is almost impossible to explain.
    You give us glimpses at ourselves and life as a whole...that some times, to be honest, scare the living hell out of me...crush me to bone and dust....leave me feeling bare to the world...and some times just simply numb.

    That is why I stalk you...this is why I'm happy to have found you here in this little world of cyber space spoken word and beauty.

    This is amazing...and I would Fav almost every thing I read from you.
    and I promise I'll try my damnedest to leave my thoughts behind more often as I know it can be a pain to see another read and Fav addition without so much as BOO.

    Yeah...so BOO

    I feel this one...more then you'll ever know or more then I'll ever be able to tell you.

    Thank you,
    kelly
    | Posted on 2007-03-06 00:00:00 | by clay | [ Reply to This ]
      I prefer the bottom bolgia of Dante's version of hell....that mean ole devil trapped in ice, in which case a fire would be nice and toasty.

    What strikes me most in this poem is the idea that we put ourselves in hell. We occasionally escape our self-made hells, usually with the love and care of others. Then, being the paragon of animals, all blessed/cursed with intelligence as we are....we make stupid choices and jump right back into the fire.

    (but i wouldn't know anything about that)

    kc
    | Posted on 2007-03-03 00:00:00 | by twacky | [ Reply to This ]
      Hell is supposed to be more than fire. It is (in Isiah, I believe) "where the worm never sleeps". You're describing an internal hell, but not a psychological one. The physical manifestations (and infestations) are symbols of the psychological Hell, but the state of mind is oddly innocent, rather like a tourist. We could call this, a la Gershwin, "An American in Hell", played with tons of reverb.
    As usual, you have made your statement with a healthy dose of irony, which keeps it far from a rant, and makes the message effective.
    fred
    | Posted on 2007-03-03 00:00:00 | by fredmelden | [ Reply to This ]


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    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.


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