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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: wednesday, at homedots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: discombobulated
    ASL Info:    26/m/nz
    Elite Ratio:    5.22 - 81/63/24
    Words: 248
    Class/Type: Prose/Me
    Total Views: 998
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1577



    Description:
       there are different "you's" in this. but hey, not everything has to be linear, right?

    lately, the little things have been taking up far more significance in my life.

    another fresh poem.

    i've felt very tired all day.


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

    dotswednesday, at homedots
    -------------------------------------------




    caress each flame, seven for each night.
    all you hear is wind, the taste
    of tiredness in your bed
    massaging
    your temples.

    she sings five octaves.

    you read the paper, enquiring
    over descriptions you know nothing about.
    i presume to say, "don't take a job
    where the title eludes you.
    twenty-eight dollars an hour?
    sure, if you know what it means."

    you say my mermaid painting
    resonates. i want you to have it.
    i want to exchange gifts.
    the plays by lorca you gave,
    you know how it fits.
    green wind and green branches,
    you know how i live this.

    or try to, dismissive
    of each weary driver
    on either side of my lane,
    their enthusiasm long dried up
    by time and smog, by abrasive faces.

    a child waves hello, a smile
    all you need to remember,
    all you need
    to go on.

    lamb chops.
    cubed potatoes,
    quartered mushrooms,
    half-circle courgettes
    with a hint of curry powder. somehow,
    this alleviates the cold, this winter dirge
    waiting for the sun to surge.

    hallelujah for tonight.
    you are warm, fed, a crucible
    of thoughts spilling softness.
    hallelujah. your framed photo
    of punga ferns
    dreams
    with you.


    _________________________________________________




    Submitted on 2008-07-30 10:17:39     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      i love the way you filter small moments - all we have and then strung together - right? what a magnificent string you have!

    the emotions conveyed with well chosen words: waking up tired, relaxed conversation, people watching, cooking and tucking a loved one in. you chose to write about each, in different styles, which interested me. it could have been disjointed, yet... you are a maestro of the segue :) the common thread is your extraordinary skill with language.

    bookended chronologically; morning to night and a beautiful flow about it -

    b



    | Posted on 2008-08-22 00:00:00 | by biska | [ Reply to This ]
      This reads like bukowski, but fresher, and not so dirty old manish. This reads like Bukowski but only if you were to look at Bukowski through like a fish tank or something, ha, sorry I don't know how useful this is as a comment.

    "you say my mermaid painting
    resonates. i want you to have it.
    i want to exchange gifts.
    the plays by lorca you gave,
    you know how it fits.
    green wind and green branches,
    you know how i live this. "

    I want to focus on this, God I love this, the IDEA of this. It makes me feel like I am wrapped up in what you have, I want this. I just realized it, but I want it. The simple statement, "I want to exchange gifts" and the nature of those gifts, but you are giving something so personal. I mean when you painted that you caught a part of your thoughts and captured the memories of those thoughts, and then a few lines down, green wind green branches, you know how I live this, it's such a personal statement that I feel like I COMPLETELY GET. I say that with emphasis because to me it is so powerful, the slang is what gives it power, it's raw enough and simple enough, and down to earth enough to have precise meaning.

    "or try to, dismissive
    of each weary driver
    on either side of my lane,
    their enthusiasm long dried up
    by time and smog, by abrasive faces"

    This reminds me of riding to work in the mornings, just think I can relate to that. But it's good, I mean, it's the same flat out directness, the personification of an observation that appears to be your unique character.

    I think you are a great writer. I think you must be a terrific person. I aspire to have the confidence that you have in your writing. Your perspective is very attractive, I had a dream a little bit ago about being with Bukowski, I was standing there about to kiss, him, I was totally into him, and I thought, you know there's nothing really great about his features, but NO one is Bukowski, and I got off on that so much, like it was so GREAT to be that close and that intimate with him, with his genuis. And please pardon me for saying this, but this is what I feel like when I read this. It's intimate, like you are putting something of yourself out there in the words displayed so that it's just like, god damn, that's attractive. But I get it. And that's the most important thing I think. At first I didn't know how to comment because I just felt like itimidated, but wow.


    And in the end you show appreciation. And I dig THAT. So much is left unappreciated you know? Like all the big things that go wrong in life overshadow the little sweet things, the innocence of that kid, his greeting, the confidence in his wave, brining you back to simpler sweeter things. So I could go on, really I could, but I just want to say I think I have run across a very talented person and I hope that you are getting your stuff out there on a wider scale than this website because it is great stuff.
    | Posted on 2008-08-02 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ]
      Ah, I want this. Not the poem, although I do like that. What I want is the feeling you have here. I want that day. It has the atmosphere of spending the day in bed with a lover during an afternoon in the city when the sun is beginning to set. While I read this, it seemed like a slow and lazy transition to a higher level of their relationship. The fractioned description of the food, though, seemed like you were speaking of something good that was slowly dissipating. And the added spice to it made it all better. Maybe he is easily placated.

    I agree with Expiring though, the man seemed to be waiting or expecting something, though, even in his slowly drawled thoughts. as if he was anxious. I like the poem because it's just there, and it's so slow and drawn, and something that you would read while drinking tea. What I'm getting though, is that maybe the woman was loving more of the homey, lazy feeling of being with the man, rather than the man himself. He seemed to be waiting for something, though.
    ~Azura*
    | Posted on 2008-07-30 00:00:00 | by EmpathicAya | [ Reply to This ]
      This gives out a simple, comfortable emotion. Content -

    you are warm, fed, a crucible
    of thoughts spilling softness.

    there's a relazed, sort of fallen back atmosphere, which is dominant.

    And yet... I can't help feeling the delicatest, the shyest hint of an unsettling mood -

    on either side of my lane (lane into nowhere?)

    She sings five octaves.

    That's my favorite line. Disturbing(ly) acknowledged simplicity.
    | Posted on 2008-07-30 00:00:00 | by expiring_touch | [ Reply to This ]


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