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    dots Submission Name: sleeping in the creekdots

    Author: blackbird
    ASL Info:    31/male/reykjavik iceland
    Elite Ratio:    2.35 - 194/328/300
    Words: 236
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 663
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1675


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

    dotssleeping in the creekdots

    i had fun
    splitting the rings
    amongst your ruins,
    all dayglow
    & all-heart lips
    glistering over two different cans
    of coffee, your fingers
    like sandlewood
    in my morning bath.

    i love you
    because everything is quiet.
    i remember you
    because everything has a sound,
    like the sparrow knows
    of the the broken feather
    beneath the roses,
    of the bent grass
    where the wolf sleeps,
    dreaming of blood
    in innocence.

    & i find stillness
    in the easter
    of the sunrise.
    these leaves
    have been my blanket
    since, from the split plum
    of your lost eye,
    you gave birth
    to the other part of me,
    the part that remembers sleeping
    in the creek.

    all of this
    goes back to my childhood,
    before i met you
    & before i knew of anything
    outside of incects
    or stealing my uncles'
    homemade wine.
    it took me so many years
    to ever see the ocean,
    to ever even notice
    that i was getting older
    than i should.

    i remember this hurricane
    when i was four years old.
    afterwards, i stood
    where my house
    had once stood.
    i could say that it was the first time
    that i understood emptiness,
    but it wouldn't be true.
    but it was the first time
    that i realized that the wind
    could carry me away.

    i think children are more poetic
    in the rain.

    Submitted on 2009-05-24 02:27:54     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      "i think children are more poetic
    in the rain."

    Goodness, I think you are right.

    Maybe that explains why they splash their feet in puddles. Puddles are the collecting bowls of inspiration for children, and they are trying to get the most from the downpour.

    'And then she said she can't believe
    Genius only comes along in storms of fabled foreign tongues

    Tripping eyes and flooded lungs
    Northern downpour sends its love'
    -Northern Downpour, Panic at the Disco

    | Posted on 2009-06-28 00:00:00 | by AsiaticFox | [ Reply to This ]
      This poem has amazing imagery and flow. I fully enjoyed reading this poem. However, I would look at your grammer. Grammer is just as important as what you're writing. You are an amazing writer, and this isn't the first poem by you I have read. I am a fan of your poetry. I'm sorry this isn't the best comment ever. Oh, and great last line.

    | Posted on 2009-06-18 00:00:00 | by Black Angel | [ Reply to This ]
      there is a unique quality in your poetry that draws the reader in, the line breaks and thoughts all flow effortlessly

    here, I try to reflect how that feels, just so you can see how it speaks.. soulspeak

    and you let us into your thoughts as if everyone is welcome-
    that is the quality of a sage

    I have now used the word "quality" twice, not aiming to to so
    but no other thought is adequate

    It's nice to read your work, and just feel the vibration

    | Posted on 2009-06-02 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      i am with child

    if it is a boy wild with the wayward flight of bees and knobbly knees, i will know him to be yours

    Bring me quail eggs

    and slender legs that smell of iceland's sea

    | Posted on 2009-05-24 00:00:00 | by InNoMood44Play | [ Reply to This ]
      they come for me soon, would that you knew me.

    my gaze on your pale bare chest is snow owl and deserts eye.

    the scent of us is Egypt known this palatial, glacial lust

    | Posted on 2009-05-24 00:00:00 | by InNoMood44Play | [ Reply to This ]
      here in the mosque all our hope is a Krishna of beauty, albeit a shaded one because of the oppressive and the dark cloth of shroud, yet behind such veils we women of the harab and harem aheem and mmmm for men with words as bare chested and so plainly light as these.

    dope and european you bring harem women hope
    | Posted on 2009-05-24 00:00:00 | by InNoMood44Play | [ Reply to This ]

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