Cocoa fields be running dry but I ain't complainin'. Grandfather ignores you the most because he's got others to worry about; time keeps dwindling as his swords and rifles go up for sale. Does she sell them after he's gone?
Does she mind the bureaucracy that tags along?
Do the crimes fit the era?
Think things through and realize that the past is the past and we only have each other. At least until the clock strikes midnight.
| From the few I've read thus far, I'd say a sense of alienation is threading through your poems. There's movement from point to point, but the focus isn't lost. It's like, life. How little we know of the larger picture, but how what we do know makes us respond to others and the world at large. How primary relationships color all other things. And how we learn to trust (or not) based on these relationships. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Don't know, but that's where this one takes me. Good stuff. ||| Posted on 2015-07-04 00:00:00 | by emwren | [ Reply to This ] || This seems to be a personal note to self. There is not really enough content to get the whole picture, so it's hard for your reader to relate to this. It just left me with a bunch of question marks.|
If he's selling them how can she, and who is she to him? Wife? daughter? Bureaucracy- government regulations? Crimes? What crimes?
|| Posted on 2015-02-18 00:00:00 | by jaycee | [ Reply to This ] || I have no idea what this was supposed to be about. Not enough content. The picture I got from reading this was slaves and a cotton field but I don't really see the picture you are trying to paint with this piece. Sorry :(||| Posted on 2015-02-12 00:00:00 | by riverrei | [ Reply to This ] |