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    dots Submission Name: Haunteddots

    Author: Kaddish
    Elite Ratio:    5.42 - 53/41/18
    Words: 149
    Class/Type: Poetry/What is
    Total Views: 742
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 984


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    This long, overgrown, wild grass
    Is haunted by scores of scorpions
    Who look at you wide eyed
    Before scurrying into
    Dense alyssum stalks.

    And this gate is tangled shut too
    By gripping tendrils of trumpet vines
    Interspersed with climbing roses
    Bursting red, purple and white
    Luminescent, awash in light
    While being singed by the sun.

    All along, I have felt fixed stares
    Digging into the nape of my neck
    One may be of that youngish hawk
    Who has made his nest in thick palm fronds
    The others may be of some middle aged vultures
    Looking down from the heights of elms
    One may be of that grey old owl
    Shuddering his way, into decay
    And the last may be of some youthful wolf
    Prowling behind the cotton wood trees
    With hungry eyes and thudding heart
    Just ready to pounce on his prey.

    Submitted on 2011-09-01 01:19:43     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Forgive me, I agree with everything that's been said so far, as to the impact of this poem, but I would like to see it streamlined to be even sharper.

    "Long, overgrown, wild" is superfluous, just "overgrown" is enough. It implies both of the other adjectives. In S2 I think you can drop "luminescent, awash in light" and not lose anything. Again it is implied. nearly, by what else you've said.
    In S3 I think you need to be more assertive and direct. Like, "one is of a young hawk," "another is some middle-aged vultures." etc.
    Use only three examples ending with the hungry "wolf."

    Hopefully you'll accept this criticism as appreciation of what you've created and a desire to improve upon it. You're poem can stand as is, but at least consider what I've said.
    | Posted on 2011-09-03 00:00:00 | by phil askew | [ Reply to This ]
      This is really beautiful. Indian-spiritish. I kept thinking of that old place in the northeast woods of ... Wisconsin? called Summerwind that finally burned.

    After I read it yesterday, I started looking at houses available in OR and LA again. That's a compliment, trust me... When a poem makes me want to buy a new house and start over, it's definitely a keeper.
    | Posted on 2011-09-02 00:00:00 | by Runes | [ Reply to This ]
      my parents lived in Trinidad for a few years, and there was always that fear of scorpions there. People would put tennis shoes out by their back doors to dry out and always had to check them carefully before putting them on ...scorpions would nest in them...hide in them.

    this reminded me of that...i almost saw an old house in Trinidad no longer lived in...and i was there, walking around it, seeing everything overgrown, untended, and unattended, except for nature's creatures, and perhaps the feeling that some spirit was lurking and watching me, and maybe wishing that someone would move in and rennovate and revive what once was....but now is just a haunted memory of life that once existed.

    | Posted on 2011-09-01 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]

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