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    dots Submission Name: Midnightdots

    Author: JanePlane
    ASL Info:    125/F/everyplane
    Elite Ratio:    6.77 - 417/433/131
    Words: 113
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 560
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 899


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    midnight and summer wild
    the work of fairy dust magic
    fireflies and the explosion of color
    muted by shadow

    finally cool enough for a dark walk
    and a warm hand

    walking I see mine:


    crickets rub legs and I remember the sweep
    of fingertips on a beach so long ago:

    the entanglement of limbs

    of us

    think how it still
    looks the same
    the sand still like powder
    the water still black

    now, we are different
    look different

    live different lives


    Submitted on 2012-06-19 04:05:30     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      Burn baby burn. Smoldering smoke of those few ashes left where once was a great pillar of towering flame. The Phoenix rises to black sun and butterfly passages.
    | Posted on 2012-06-19 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      i find the first part of this a good set up for what is to come later...the contradiction...the cool blue...the juxtaposition of the cool of the evening to the warm hand...but the warm hand that never touches another because the other's hand has been retracted...

    i like the italics..it is a poem in itself...

    "the water still black"

    when you are together with the certain someone, the black is mysterious, inviting..when you can approach it together.

    but alone it is scary, terrifying..or just lacks color altogether.
    i think "live different lives" isn't necessary...

    i feel a point is still made without that line and it is more decoration than necessity..

    but this poem throbs with the ache of "missing"!

    | Posted on 2012-06-19 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
      For me the poem started to really pick up from the middle of the second stanza, because the first fell kind of flat for me. I love the way how you manage to skirt all the images along, effortlessly, (like a sweep of the fingerstips), and how the idyll changes to the gatherings of a storm (waters turn black in the reflection of the sky), and one finds himself back in a (separate) reality. I would suggest reworking the first stanza, otherwise a good read.
    | Posted on 2012-06-19 00:00:00 | by expiring_touch | [ Reply to This ]

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