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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: flavored ashdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Clayman
    ASL Info:    28 - getting late
    Elite Ratio:    6.34 - 609/327/167
    Words: 137
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 543
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 926



    Description:
       


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

    dotsflavored ashdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Tomorrow I will be the mirror
    you cannot see to polish,
    I'll be just another shiny dish
    set aside in your asphalt river.
    Hold my red sand one last time
    before it turns to salt.

    Let's sit and squeeze out razor
    memories from bone
    like children of Jericho
    hunched together to burn
    the pages of expired calligraphy
    we let loose in our veins..

    Together we can be passers-by
    in life's pinched vial,
    aged children with soft face-lines
    grown from sad places.
    Pretenders from days
    where fear had no taste.

    Dreams are things we hide
    from the heart's hammers,
    glimmers of hope waiting
    to be pinned to pillowcases.
    We never had a chance to hold on
    long enough to know..

    -Svw




    Submitted on 2011-08-16 11:50:17     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      i got a whole different thing here...

    we hide our hearts...we didn't use to...we used to love freely, give away our emotions...really live...now we are too careful...and the fallout is that we are falling out of touch with each other.

    we are grown from sad places...we are aged..the child in us is gone...we grow up and our hearts die...

    really like the second stanza a lot...that is some mighty strong imagery...

    tomorrow when you look in the mirror you won't recognize yourself...you have gotten old and cynical...

    i like the dreams pinned to pillowcases idea...that is cool.


    jacob
    | Posted on 2011-08-17 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
      totally
    | Posted on 2011-08-17 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ]
      Such strong imagery of dust, ash, decay and death. A really profound piece in that sense.

    I liked this especially:

    "hold my red sand one last time,
    before it turns to salt"

    It made me think of the Dust bowl. The dirt f=of the red country becoming useless, like salting the earth. Then land that has been used for years and years, has to be abandonned.

    I also felt this imagery of a nuclear fallout in that second stanza, which pertains to this death and a drying of the earth, leaving it useless.

    Very cool!

    Matt
    | Posted on 2011-08-16 00:00:00 | by OneDarkFlame92 | [ Reply to This ]


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