Who took a picture in the shade
Of you; stripped down,
As close to naked as I will see?
The navy poka-dot bra
Is something you haven't changed.
You left it there for me to find
As much as I could be anyone.
Not to hurt or soothe me,
For nothing new about you
Would care to be alone
In my possesion.
No, the light in there will fade
Like a nostalgic dream.
And I won't let myself ponder over this
Even as I search it in the shade,
To hurt myself
And wonder where you got such courage.
| concur all aboveâ€¦|
and plus also, (and plus also the above will understand clumsiness) i like the clumsiness.
i found there was an unexpected/unlooked for naive nuance to this that suggests young years with an adult taste for lost or temporarily missing decadence.
i just think this illustrates the fact that poetry is or can be in equal parts uplifting and frustrating and i find this awkwardness when written down to be entirely to my own taste and style.
i could advise/revise and all that blah but for now for me theres no need: you've somehow set a moment of importance in clumsy amber and that will do.
|| Posted on 2015-10-05 00:00:00 | by Awkward | [ Reply to This ] || I like this although with the tense work it is a little difficult to follow- but (as far as i understood it) i thought it was a strong poem- kind of like the narrator was the darkroom or the liquid or the process - so close but uninvolved and i think that's high marks for developing that perspective. Close- with what seems to be a real knowledge of the subject/person but alienated by that distance - so - antiquated in a sense while this spirit moves on with her evolution, the last line is as good as anything you could want to read. If i wrote it, I'd be proud to have written this poem, a poem so loaded it's really a treat for the reader. ||| Posted on 2015-09-03 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ] |