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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: "Slip Away"dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Clayman
    ASL Info:    28 - getting late
    Elite Ratio:    6.34 - 609/327/167
    Words: 226
    Class/Type: Poetry/
    Total Views: 514
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1440



    Description:
       


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

    dots"Slip Away"dots
    -------------------------------------------


    Won't you join my side and be a part of this?
    We can make our exodus to gaia's heart
    and escape from the illusion of things.

    I care for a secret cabin of solitude
    with the breath of oak and deep comfortings to coax our worries.
    A sacred place where wicks boast orange
    plumes that cast fragile hues in ethereal dances and we can gaze out serenely at God's water making circular plummets into liquid mirrors.

    There my butterflies would welcome soft
    cherry-stringed words from you to tug them into dance.
    Your hand caressing my cheek could be the silencer of sand, stopping time without strain.
    The wind, our only companion would gasp
    as my lips are welcomed home by the tender calls of your neck.
    The scent of your skin would turn me primal as I breathe intoxicating essences of lust.

    I yearn your beckoning eyes to paralyze me momentarily as the deep static of our embrace shudders through me.
    But only there, where knowing glances speak volumes and there is nothing but us and we lose ourselves to the racing duette of heartbeats that quiet the forests tongue, shattering all mirrors of doubt.

    Where the distant chiming of a robin's call is the affirmation of all things perfect.

    Won't you walk with me there?

    -Svw




    Submitted on 2009-11-21 10:57:36     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I envy your ability to entice romantically . "wicks boast orange plumes that cast fragile hues in ethereal dances" is such an intriguing visage . The butterfly analogy is so beautifully renaissance , and "Your hand caressing my cheek could be the silencer of sand, stopping time without strain." is positively transcendental . From here it gets a little bit too revealing for me as a man but I have definitely experienced similar states of wanton licentiousness . I really like the romantic conclusiveness of "shattering all mirrors of doubt." reaffirming the purity of your intent and the sanctity of your retreat . Seriously I so enjoyed this , practically ethereal .

    Bruce
    PS:By the by how difficult is this formating ? I can't even get to indentations for paragraphs .
    | Posted on 2010-10-28 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      In this meditation thing I was into a few years back we had to create a place in our minds, a place where it was calm and lovely and we could just be with nature, a happy place. This is strangely similar to mine.

    This isn't realistic, but it reads like you're introducing us to your imaginary, happy place, so I'm not sure it needs to be realistic. The world of fantasy is a good as the world. Usually better, actually, but then I hate roads and buildings...

    I think if you created a world for me to live in with you where everything was hunky dory I'd be very pleased.

    You have some beautiful lines here, I especially like:

    'wicks boast orange
    plumes that cast fragile hues in ethereal dances'

    but really, this piece is chockablock with them. I think this write is a lot more peaceful than your other recent stuff has been, even if it's in a wistful way. I hope that means things are calming down at your end.

    Take care,

    Aly
    | Posted on 2009-11-25 00:00:00 | by AlyRose | [ Reply to This ]
      Since when did poems and metaphors have to be realistic? Yes, some are, some aren't... ummm, Xanadu? and I'm sure there are more I can't think of, but they're laid out in literary history... thousands?

    I think it's beautiful, and it's definitely a place I'd enjoy walking. Sure, you could have described the litter in the ditch along the way, to give it that 'real feel' but I wouldn't want to go into it too far.

    I read this yesterday, the cherry-strung words caught my eye... I liked that. I like the metaphoric twists and paintings throughout this, the imagery is brilliant, and it's like one of those grecian urns described by... Donne? Keats? (Whoever, Keats or Donne, I do love that piece). The sweetest songs are the ones imagined, unsung... nothing lives up to reality, in other words.

    And since this was a proposal, an invitation, a hope for companionship, the "chocolate" is really the unspoken answer, and since this is posed as a question, and one-sided, I don't think it's suppose to have chocolate... the chocolate is the fulfillment, and this is merely the offered hand... I think it's how it should be, in other words. And I think it is lovely and gentle, and definitely a nice mental place to be in comparison to your latest realities... A happy place.
    | Posted on 2009-11-22 00:00:00 | by Runes | [ Reply to This ]
      You have some very nice rhymes mixed in here but I was a bit disappointed that this was all wrapper and no chocolate.

    Imo it's too delicate to be a butterfly and by this i mean that not much of it seems real

    The interesting part is the dynamic between the lovers and the story around that. Here there's not really anything going on and so it seems more like someone trying to be poetic instead of imploying poetic arts.

    just my take.
    | Posted on 2009-11-21 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ]
      "secret cabin of solitude
    with the breath of oak and deep comfortings to coax our worries."

    "Your hand caressing my cheek could be the silencer of sand, stopping time without strain."

    "Where the distant chiming of a robin's call is the affirmation of all things perfect."

    "Won't you walk with me there?"

    all of it is wonderful, every line. you're right, this is quite a smile.
    | Posted on 2009-11-21 00:00:00 | by Theophilus | [ Reply to This ]


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