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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: time crumblingdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Outlaw
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 510/413/195
    Words: 290
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 866
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1747



    Description:
       Quoice?

    Da photo:
    http://www.davidclapp.co.uk/


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

    dotstime crumblingdots
    -------------------------------------------


    I have two eyes,
    and sometimes they spy upon time—

    The explosion to end an exciting beginning
    all curled up in the dimple of a bronzed cheek,
    or a pottery-red rose yet unfurled by morning dew.

    How I could've kissed you; lamented about
    how it is that we'd yet to meet despite being a foot or two
    apart for the better part of three years. How
    I should've kissed you.

    Atop the peace tower, for four or so hours,
    I could breathe and bind together the thoughts in my mind,
    the view of Quebec and the water in between;
    the children climbing the railings to get a better view.

    Across, the clock kept ticking in its copper tower.

    I did lament, ashore a hidden cove of deeply shallow waters;
    your broken arms and ribs, the cicatrices embedded in you.
    I envied your ability to break away from concern,
    how unyielding to danger you are and the pain that comes along.
    I jumped from the cliff to be closer to you. The idea of you.

    I couldn't keep my eyes on you, your MC hammer pants
    and your oblong comments. Especially during your dance
    for the spartan men and the sunburst-pleated skirts.
    My mind was caught, a fossil in parliament's stone walls.

    Now when I read, in the back of my mind, I try to
    find the quiet you gave me in the parliamentary library.
    In the back of my mind I knew then I only had those four hours
    to be with you. I couldn't keep my eyes off the time.

    —like the slow return of the shadow on a sundial,
    my mind bent ever so slowly towards ...




    Submitted on 2014-09-12 02:20:11     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      daniel barlow got it right

    you did well with this (angst-laden narrative describing what ought to have been (in the writer's eyes))

    if i had a wall on which...

    good job pilgrim: you got all sorted on this one and whilst i'm sure there's space for critique, i'm just broadly content with the tone, the rhythm and the sense of longing.

    accurate and worth reading by others.

    qed
    | Posted on 2017-05-25 00:00:00 | by Awkward | [ Reply to This ]
      daniel barlow got it right

    you did well with this (angst-laden narrative describing what ought to have been (in the writer's eyes))

    if i had a wall on which...

    good job pilgrim: you got all sorted on this one and whilst i'm sure there's space for critique, i'm just broadly content with the tone, the rhythm and the sense of longing.

    accurate and worth reading by others.

    qed
    | Posted on 2017-05-25 00:00:00 | by Awkward | [ Reply to This ]
      This is sadness in a swirl of gypsy carnival, a portrait of being young and free and soul-shackled by What If's due to the restraints of social conformity despite supposedly throwing off those boundaries. Somewhere I see a wicker man burning in the background, and heat-shimmers distorting the air like looking through time waves. All this to say, I like this very much.
    | Posted on 2017-04-06 00:00:00 | by WriteSomething | [ Reply to This ]
      Honestly I don't believe time always goes in a straight line. Sometimes it bends and curves and folds in on itself, like when you remember things from the past with more clarity than when the actual events were unfolding.

    There is so much to behold here; beauty and a certain ethereal quality, and also you have conveyed the peculiar sort of bitter-sweetness you get when combining nostalgia with longing.

    I love the oblong comments, sunburst-pleated skirts, the fossils caught in parliament's walls (there was a building called The Sturdy Stone Center where I used to live, in Saskatoon, with walls like that) and that shadow on the sundial. It's sweet syrupy goodness.
    | Posted on 2016-01-22 00:00:00 | by BlankSheet | [ Reply to This ]
      I think you did well with this.
    | Posted on 2014-09-18 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ]
      Quite haunting, this one. Great details to admire, places, things, people, time... Quite full. Perhaps a photo in words (forget the thousand words thing)?
    | Posted on 2014-09-18 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      I think this might be my favorite poem.
    | Posted on 2014-09-14 00:00:00 | by etheror | [ Reply to This ]


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