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    dots Submission Name: Darker of Witch and Poetdots

    Author: JanePlane
    ASL Info:    125/F/everyplane
    Elite Ratio:    6.76 - 419/435/131
    Words: 33
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 1435
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 266

       "Pulled from the archives" LOL. Found buried in a box of old writing.

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

    dotsDarker of Witch and Poetdots


    that type of dark
    out of my reach


    my heart

    me, with no cauldron


    the magic drowns
    in its own juices

    Submitted on 2012-06-29 00:20:59     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      I like this stripped-back side to you.
    On my phone so I'll just throw out a couple of suggestions:
    * Delete "me" - extraneous as you already mention possession with "my heart".
    * "Tit" or "lit"? The former makes me giggle. Excuse my childishness.

    Overall, you pull this off succinctly.
    Your ending was an ominous, fitting finish which I enjoyed.
    | Posted on 2012-07-18 00:00:00 | by trinityfinger | [ Reply to This ]
      The old poem is not as good as the new one that you can make of it ... sometimes as a task full of boredom or pain, but often as a strange and pleasant day of learning.
    | Posted on 2012-07-02 00:00:00 | by Glen Bowman | [ Reply to This ]
      sometimes finding those pieces buried in boxes of "old writing" are so good...we wonder why we left them unfinished or why we put them in hiding in the first place.

    glad you dusted this one off...enjoyed coming back to it again.

    | Posted on 2012-07-01 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
      Yes, a little disconnected if Jacob dares to mention it, but playing it safe I'd never criticize a witch. Quite excellent in fact, as cold as it gets. Stewing without a pot as messy as it gets.
    | Posted on 2012-06-30 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      Imagination can illuminate the depths of darkness, give us visions of the possibilities beyond our abilities to be cohesively coercive. So unless we want to be flailing about in the dark we have to admit these things, although they seemed possessions at one time are taken, beyond our grasp. Our prophylaxis protocols appear frigid for all has not been well. My advice to you: mix up a batch of magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur anyway, let it stew in the juices of its fantastication's phantasmagoria. Then again we mustn't be precociously petulant or we WILL, drown in it. Oh the thought of such fecundity.

    | Posted on 2012-06-29 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      Yep. This is animal too. There's an Eavan Boland poem I like called "this moment" and it's okay throughout but what I really love about it is the line she has: "Apples sweeten in the dark". I only compare it with the last line of your poem because it's similarly effective. I like poems like this, you know kind of using words sparingly and trying to go for a strong mood or sense? I'm sure you do ha. Well there's not much new stuff floating around here, I mean on the submits page so this and the other poem have been good to read.
    | Posted on 2012-06-29 00:00:00 | by Wolfwatching | [ Reply to This ]
      "with no cauldron,
    the magic drowns"

    Really liked that part.
    Like a sieve in the sand.

    Seems to be one of those poems about the art of poetry. And in this case, I know that feeling.
    It's like trying to write something that's devoid of feeling or honesty.

    [You have no purpose for writing this; it is not cathartic, nor is it lightening; you just felt like writing, and that's why this poem sucks.]

    I put that in brackets because it wasn't meant for you. It's what I tell myself when I'm sitting there doing exactly what I just described--or as you more poetically described, stewing without a cauldron.

    I love archive pieces by the way. You've progressed, no doubt, but the genius is hidden throughout even your oldest works, I bet.