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    dots Submission Name: noon teadots

    Author: isabella
    Elite Ratio:    5.56 - 803/905/472
    Words: 117
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 712
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 723

       something old and reposted at varying times of me...

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

    dotsnoon teadots

    I had tea today with lost poets.
    I let them lay across my lap
    as sun streamed in
    to warm my back.
    Yellow pages not turned in years
    softened between my thighs.
    And I listened
    while ghost words came to life.
    As I spoke them aloud
    Emerson landed at my knees,
    flowed down my shins, my feet,
    went up and over freshly painted toes.
    I thought: What a lovely contrast;
    light pink polish against an arrangement
    of red and orange Gerber daisies.
    It was the Music of the poem
    I was trying to hear.
    But somehow it disappeared
    when the finches flew away.

    Submitted on 2012-01-24 08:35:18     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    Rate This Submission

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    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      Sexual. So captured and whimsical, but there is love-making in this poem. To poetry and to the reader. I love it. The parts and the feel are most of all touching in tandem. don't let me be too crass. It's great:) I would fave this and publish it.
    | Posted on 2013-08-23 00:00:00 | by Wolfwatching | [ Reply to This ]
      I was of the opinion that certain people of mediocre temperature who post comments are either too drunk to express themselves, or are pretty much too stupid to be allowed to live.

    In fact, I'm certain of it. Why can't both be true at once?

    I think they must be.

    Or perhaps it's just me. I sometimes see Jackasses strutting around wearing fancy asshats . . .
    | Posted on 2012-11-20 00:00:00 | by Vancrown | [ Reply to This ]
      I'd like to dance around in the comments section of this poem for a bit.


    But I'm not sure how to adequately do that in words. This poem seems to get distracted from being itself at the same time the figure (is that the right word? I'm trying to remember my one semester of poetry) becomes distracted from the poem. Yet it's the poem/poet that distracts her in the first place. It's wonderfully gushy and flowing (and I mean these as compliments) like a warm waterfall that leaves one feeling startled and refreshed and a wee bit confused, which is a good place to be no matter what they say.
    | Posted on 2012-08-02 00:00:00 | by lukewarm | [ Reply to This ]
      what a unique peice, it seems to be timeless... you could be anywhere at anytime... and yet your always there..

    my favorite phrase:

    I had tea today with lost poets.
    I let them lay across my lap
    as sun streamed in
    to warm my back.

    and for some reason, i can hear this in an euro-english accent... precisely drawled..beautifully writ!
    | Posted on 2012-02-18 00:00:00 | by Oracle | [ Reply to This ]
      This has music to it. And warmth. It is like a cuppa when the notes in the brew dance on the tongue.

    It is crafted beautifully.

    Yellow pages not turned in years
    softened between my thighs.
    And I listened
    while ghost words came to life.

    Just perfect, really.

    And those last lines . . . I agree with Jacob. Super!

    I have no crit to give here. This is a new fav for me.

    | Posted on 2012-02-05 00:00:00 | by JanePlane | [ Reply to This ]
      "and somehow it disappeared/ when the finches flew away"

    what a lovely line, isabella!

    this piece speaks of serenity and of how reading poetry can take us places...and speaking of Emerson...it shows us the longevity of poetry...just how it never gets old even when it does.

    and such a nice way to enjoy tea.

    | Posted on 2012-01-25 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]

    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

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    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

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