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a/wake [of sorts]


Author: Someones Epiphany
Elite Ratio:    8 - 4454 /2107 /161
Words: 79
Class/Type: Poetry /Misc
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Description:




a/wake [of sorts]



and the night
is stony and cold
like great aunt ruth's stare
when emerald accidently
giggled
during uncle cliff's internment

yes
the night
is a wake
of sorts

...well
i am
awake...

there is no comfort to be found in a day that is night; where your arms cannot hold me; where your smelly morning breath cannot reach me

i am
awake
and captured
in the stony glare
of another night
without you





Submitted on 2011-02-10 16:05:52     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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Comments


  the first stanza. though personal to you...is universal enought..we all have that relative with the stony stare...

and the parallel of that to the cold nights that turn into days that still feel like that because i don't wake up with your smelly breath in my face...oh god, that is all so good...

my favorite of yours so far...

kick ass poem!

i like the ending just as is...

just as is...

perfect phrasing all the way through

jacob
| Posted on 2011-04-22 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
  "Where your smelly breath can't reach me..."

It's the use of familiar sensations that I like about this poem. It's not high and full of your self imagery but the stuff we know and are familiar with in life as we live it. I should right like this more often. Sometimes I think I am Byron of Milton and get lost from the physical world. Language is beautiful but so is the everyday experiences of life. That's not to say that the language here isn't beautiful or that there isn't depth in the poem, rather the imagery is immediately tangible and relevant.

I feel the emptiness of a half filled bed...
| Posted on 2011-02-15 00:00:00 | by Car va g o | [ Reply to This ]
  my oldest sister cathleen, she's uncanny with her ability at the crack up. you love to hate her, you're fierce with your hating of her, but darn it she cracks you up.

my step-father's dad died and there we were in the church..... singing the hymns and such, this dude launches into the chorus, quite terrible-walrus bad, and she looks over at me and we're off. it was the most shameful thing and to this day i am embarrassed, but also, i love her for it.

so yes, i like the way you controlled the introduction, because there is the danger that the poem could be taken as the author steering us toward something funny.

i like the bits that other people liked. i don't mean to short change you, i mean i liked them and that adds to what you can collate, grab hold of or subtract, and take as worth.

what i didn't like was the close, where the mechanics, for me, seemed to slip away into an outright statement, and by that i mean that you could phrase it a dozen ways, what comes across as important (to the narrator) is the getting out of the words. that's true, that's great, but it doesn't affect me.

getting back to mechanics, repetition and such.....

you began with two ands,

and, i truly love ands, and i think that that symmetry is where it works.

you come up with an idea, crack it open and make two, or turn it back on itself.

you do that throughout the poem.

so i saw those two ands at the first as a good opportunity to close.

i'll leave the idea with you and some fashioning of an example....

i am awake
and stony
and captured in
the glare of another
night without you.

good words in this poem.
| Posted on 2011-02-11 00:00:00 | by theludus | [ Reply to This ]
  I like punny stuff, and using it in a solemn occasion just adds further dimension.
| Posted on 2011-02-11 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
  
I think most of us have an "Aunt Ruth". I read this in your journal & I'm glad you posted it. I think what I particularly like is that it is disjointed & out of place with itself, as you are obviously feeling with your current predicament. It's amazing to me that poetry can be so physically representative, as well as emotionally. I also like the repetition. It's almost like you're fixated on certain qualities & they keep popping up.

"yes
the night
is a wake
of sorts

...well
i am
awake..."

is just perfect. I like when poems have this kinda inner-speak going on. Makes it honest & devoid of the poet's critical eye & editing.
| Posted on 2011-02-11 00:00:00 | by Santi | [ Reply to This ]
  I like this Jaydee.

I like how deliberate 'aunt ruth' and 'uncle cliff' are-- how they make this yours; but we can still make this personal to us, too, having our own unlces and aunts.

Ruth is one of my favourite names, because all the best characters in books are called Ruth. It's such a great name.

I also like how the names Ruth and Cliff bear up under the name Emerald- how that Emerald startles, somewhat, and further shows this divide between the dead and old and you, the young.

The way you describe Aunt Ruth makes me think of that headmistress from 'A Little Princess'. All tall and thin and scary, ya know?

The wake/awake is so you. I've missed it.

I like how sparse this becomes, as your thoughts drift away from the internment and into your night, which is a sparse night, a night which lacks.

And then the days being nights. Yeah, this speaks of longing. And aching.

And then the night becoming Aunt Ruth, so the distance, the chasm is recalled; the idea of a wake, the stony glare-- your ending recalls this, and solidifies it.

I've missed your words. Yup. I have.
| Posted on 2011-02-11 00:00:00 | by AlyRose | [ Reply to This ]
  i am so glad you posted this. (smile).

it's so beautifully you.

(though it's an ache i wish you didn't know).
seriously.

stony and cold.

if it helps any, my oil ran out and it's cold as a mofo. doesn't help that it's cold out too. not sure if i feel stony yet. but i am stoned and sipping bourbon. and i haven't smelled smelly morning breath since summer.

(the above is all filler, because sometimes i just don't know what to say).

it's nice to see your words, is all.
| Posted on 2011-02-10 00:00:00 | by isabella | [ Reply to This ]


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