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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: the reflection of my secret braindots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: blackbird
    ASL Info:    31/male/reykjavik iceland
    Elite Ratio:    2.35 - 194/328/300
    Words: 129
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 602
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 925



    Description:
       


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    dotsthe reflection of my secret braindots
    -------------------------------------------


    the city is like a box
    where i opened into
    & skated past the reflection
    of my secret brain.

    wild lips
    obscure the mild wood
    where the trenchy leaves
    litter where my heart goes
    when it's full of the moss
    of the world.

    & the pink
    of sleep
    is wrestling down my cheek
    where your eyes are
    so distantly disturbing.

    the outsides of trees
    are warped and twisted
    on my tongue
    where my child heart
    is counting in threes.

    the torture of breathing
    is that when the breath's done
    it has to start all over.
    & in the mirror
    i see things that i shouldn't.

    in a flame,
    sparks gather
    toward my distant thumb.
    rattle the bars
    & i'll come running
    with my sun.




    Submitted on 2008-02-06 19:07:11     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I like the sound of it. It has a sort of melancholy rhymn to it. It makes me relaxed and I can see the images in my mind. My favorite part is :

    wild lips
    obscure the mild wood
    where the trenchy leaves
    litter where my heart goes
    when it's full of the moss
    of the world.

    It just makes me think of a warm wooded area that's on the edge of fall. I love it! Great job!
    | Posted on 2008-02-07 00:00:00 | by lorethriel | [ Reply to This ]
      reverence for nature and serenity even in the city... colours become an array of moods, people become skaters drifting past... and memories resurface, that of being an innocent child, perhaps engraving initials into a tree... i used to do that plenty, just because it seems so ethereal... a scar, tissue which will grow over and mesh with the bark, much like ourselves, don't you think?

    and that's where this poem took me. it's very flighty... yet earthed, very whimsical and free.
    ~
    | Posted on 2008-02-06 00:00:00 | by silent strings | [ Reply to This ]


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