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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: on sundaydots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: isabella
    Elite Ratio:    5.56 - 803/905/472
    Words: 81
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 1084
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 514



    Description:
       


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

    dotson sundaydots
    -------------------------------------------








    she ran around the tree with sparklers in hand, smiling as bright
    as the lights she held. made me want to be six again. carefree. carrying younger thoughts and believing in the still of the very
    next day.

    but i was forty-three, smoking my third cigarette at the edge
    of the deck, thinkin' 'bout peep toe shoes and how mondays
    roll around far too fast.





    Submitted on 2011-07-13 14:44:15     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Don't they? The demands made upon us hardly seem fair. I know they're not. You have to fight just to be able to clear a little space around yourself and breathe. Without that, it's almost impossible to properly express yourself. At least that's how I feel about it. Like . . . I'm always at war. Buying myself back in little moments, one at a time. Being a dreamer's a bitch when life's always shaking you awake . . . I wonder if we're missing some of the best parts?

    M~
    | Posted on 2012-11-20 00:00:00 | by Vancrown | [ Reply to This ]
      What a charming picture of otherwise ordinary life! Flashing a light on the invisibility of years between six and forty three. The ebullience of childhood and the satisfaction of having a settled life, thats what i see here. The language of your thoughts in the second para seems to say, 'k, baby, i have not grown up yet, i still have my innocence and imagination,yeah, i know this!'
    | Posted on 2011-08-03 00:00:00 | by Kaddish | [ Reply to This ]
      What I like about this is, while on the surface it seems to show loss of childhood/dissapointment in the second stanza, the funny thing is the language or the tone hasn't really changed much. There seems to be continuity rather than contrast, which may actually be the real dissapointment. As in the more things change the more things stay the same (I actually hate that analogy), but there you go. It's a nice poem.

    I recently had the experience of walking into a place I had completely forgotten (My friends have begun renting a house on the North side, it's on the same road where I spent many years of my childhood) I went out the back garden of the place and realised if I looked over the wall, I could see the delapedated state of a different garden, an old friends house where I had been invited over for her birthday. I was only seven or eight at the time and was kind of afraid of large groups of poeple. It was typical me, I wanted to leave. Well the girl actually got a little upset that I was going, or I thought she showed as much in the manner in which she asked me to stay, yet still I went. It's like she was imploring me for my own good, like she could see I was nervous.
    I was going to write a poem about it, or am going to write one I guess, because now I really wish I had stayed. Your poem kind of reminds me of that feeling a little, just in what it muses upon.

    she ran around the tree with sparklers in hand, smiling as bright
    as the lights she held

    I know the perspective is of someone being reminded, but still...

    I like this it quite a bit. You had a different poem up which I thought was nifty, but I didn't have much of a response to give you on that one. So there goes!
    | Posted on 2011-07-18 00:00:00 | by Wolfwatching | [ Reply to This ]
      This is very sweet. Children always make me wish I could get that joy back that they find in the most simple things (like a child telling me in the grocery store that his mum had bought cake). You always say it'll never happen to you, but then you start thinking and saying the things your mother used to say.

    Nicely done,
    Amy
    | Posted on 2011-07-14 00:00:00 | by cuddledumplin | [ Reply to This ]
      Every time we view children at play, we're somehow reminded of our lost innocence...., and want to protect theirs. How like Angels they are as they play....

    would that that innocence could last forever..
    | Posted on 2011-07-14 00:00:00 | by Ron Cole | [ Reply to This ]
      Brilliant. I can almost feel it, probably because I'm sure I have. Strange how when we watch children play, the smell of certain things or even a song, can sometimes bring this wave of nostalgia washing over us. To a childhood time when everything was just..perfect.
    | Posted on 2011-07-14 00:00:00 | by TiaanK | [ Reply to This ]
      Funny how thoughts and concerns change as we grow older. We think about our mortality. We have gone over some thoughts until they are well threadbare. We become watchers as often as we are doers. Simple thoughts become a refuge; like what to wear tomorrow, or what to cook for dinner later.

    Now I'm only in my 30's, but in the last year or so my mind seems to have gone suddenly quiet; I found myself a few months ago on my lunch break and feeling utterly at peace. It was relaxing, yet at the same time disconcerting. My thoughts were these: "Gee, it's a nice afternoon. Look at the clouds, aren't they lovely." As I watched the wind swirl a wrapper idly round and round, I realized that for once my mind was not doing the same.

    I wondered, is this how normal people think most of the time?

    When it rains we still want to take our shoes off and run around in the grass. But we don't.

    I like the picture at the top; nasturtiums in a weathered box. There is something haunting and incredibly right about the old brushing up against the new.

    Take Care,
    Erin
    | Posted on 2011-07-14 00:00:00 | by Soul-Hugger | [ Reply to This ]
      oh wow, what a slice of life...nothing like birthdays to make us realize our mortality and how fast everything goes by...

    nice words here..i like the juxtaposition of the two different ideas in the two stanzas...

    your writing is insipring.

    jacob
    | Posted on 2011-07-13 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]


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