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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: On the Couchdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: saartha
    ASL Info:    27/F/US
    Elite Ratio:    4.07 - 230/383/127
    Words: 146
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 930
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1059



    Description:
       


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

    dotsOn the Couchdots
    -------------------------------------------


    The white-washed room
    collapses
    and falls away
    to the smell of springtime.

    "It's like..."
    the whispered words froth out,
    dripping across the floor
    as I choke on air. "It's like--
    a spring girl in a field of jasmine
    running and tripping and running again,
    or a song your mother used to sing
    when she washed the dishes by hand
    while father push-mowed the lawn
    and the air tasted like grass and love,
    or the reverberations of wind-up watches
    like the one your grandfather had
    and would let you press your face against
    while he slowly, slowly sent the hands clicking,
    or like, or like..."

    And I'm drowning
    with all the air pouring into my lungs,
    cutting off the bubbling syllables.

    She sits there, all cool smiles
    and pseudo-concerned questions,
    asks
    "How does that make you feel?"

    while I asphyxiate.




    Submitted on 2007-07-11 16:02:20     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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




    ||| Comments |||
      Hmm...I disagree with your previous commenter. I think the first strophe is fine. As are the other parts outside of the quote, the attempted explanation. They're fine because they show that the voice inside her head, the voice she thinks and speaks to herself in, is completely different from the external voice she is using here. The actual narration is harsh with words like collapse, froth, choke, drowning, cutting, and of course, asphyxiate. Such a sharp contrast to the nostalgia-inspired similies she hopelessly tries to craft. Because those things. Those things that touch us deepest. How can we ever articulate it to a point of understanding for someone else? I'm not sure we can. But we can come close. I think that's part of the reason poetry exists now.

    I have but two nitpicks. And they are minor and opinion-based. The first is the use of "white-washed," which just seems a tad...cliché is too harsh a word, so maybe just, unoriginal. I like how you switched it up with "push-mowed" later on. Perhaps you could try "washed-white," which is less...fluid, but also unexpected, which...Yeah. I don't know. Maybe you can find another word. If not. The piece isn't going to spiral apart.

    Nitpick two: This one is very tiny. The use of the word "syllables." I'm not sure. When I read that part, I want a less...precise word. I want it maybe a little more vague, a word slightly less...technical (not that that word is especially technical...). It's just that it seems to sap a little power from the final word, which is completely outside the realm of the piece's diction, which is what makes it so tasty. Maybe a word such as, well, "words," or "noises," could serve in its place. I realize this changes the syllables here (ironic), so you may want to hunt for something else, but I don't know...

    But both those things are very, very small. I say them only because I enjoy this poem very much, and will in fact be clicking the favorite button once I post this comment. But again, you can ignore them to no real ill effect.

    Alright. My praise will be short.

    It's brilliant. I love the dialogue segment, the juxtoposion of the voices in the poem, the stereotypical response of the psychiatrist/psychologist, and of course the verb froth. A hideous word, but also the perfect word.

    So yep. I enjoyed this. Cheers!

    Oh. And I like that they're fields of jasmine.
    | Posted on 2007-08-06 00:00:00 | by wool raincoat | [ Reply to This ]
      This is so stunning and intoxicating. I loved it. Particularly the middle section, in trying to describe something that is utterly indescribable.

    I don't know... I feel as if it is out of place set with the rest of the poem. This idea of the therapist. Like this middle section could make a poem on its own, something quite nostalgic and very beautiful rather than being quite bitter. I do love it though. The way the words 'froth' and 'drip across the floor'.

    The only part I don't particularly like is the first verse. It feels too complex and almost weaker than the rest. It set me up for another poem. Maybe thats what you were going for.

    Thank you. Things like this reinvigorate my mind. They make me want to read and write so much more :)
    | Posted on 2007-07-11 00:00:00 | by Predator | [ Reply to This ]


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