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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Dyingdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: ellisa
    Elite Ratio:    5.51 - 400/415/125
    Words: 97
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 759
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 748



    Description:
       


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

    dotsThe Dyingdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Grey skinned
    Finger bones
    Of wasted arms
    Lie like the matchsticks
    I dreamt about all night.
    The funeral procession
    And the scented candle
    In my hand was shaking
    Along a cold path.
    My matches
    Broken, wet and
    Failing.
    FAITH
    I pushed another
    Along the abrasive side
    It hurt me
    But it was for you.
    Fingers cut on
    Sentimental
    Destruction.
    LOVE
    It flickered
    A blue light
    And a round flame
    Rose to swallow
    Up the wood
    I lit the wick
    For you
    SACRAFICE
    Your pale eyes
    Watched it burn
    And their blue
    Was gone
    FAREWELL




    Submitted on 2005-01-21 04:59:14     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      This is beautiful and bitersweet. There is a sadness for the speaker, but not so much sadness for the one addressed. The speaker shows such care, love, and devotion, that it seems like a vigil waiting for the release back into the place we are all meant to eventually be.
    The ending farewell closes with a great sense of peace.
    The opening didn't work so well for me, but after you get to the scented candle, it clicks.
    I think the syntax at the open is messing up the imagery for me. I'm thinking "grey skinned boney finger of wasted hands" is more direct and descriptive.
    The other imagery in here is especially good. I liked how you pushed another one, didn't strike a match, and you used the abrasive side, that word just exudes discomfort. I also liked how you took your time to really develop the image with a round flame rising up to swallow the wood. These are details that are so easy to skim over, then writers never understand why people don't get excited over the result. You are bothering to show us everything you are seeing, excellent,
    Dave
    | Posted on 2005-01-21 00:00:00 | by Sandburg | [ Reply to This ]
      A terrfifically sad poem, with a glimmer of hope!

    If you have lost someone close, you have my condolences. Your poem is very descriptive of both the dying and the faint hope inspired by a warm fire. I love how you have highlighted by capitalization "FAITH", "LOVE", and "SACRAFICE", and then ended your poem with"FAREWELL". It defines the stanzas, and ends the poem appropriately. To me, the lighting of the fire, signifies the return of the warmth of love, that will be missed now that someone has died. Sort of an eternal flame.

    I have some questions. In stanza 3 you seem to light the wick after the fire is already started. In Stanza 2 shouldn't it be "hurt" and not "hurts". I think you switched tenses there.

    Your poem flows by the use of language, from matchstick bones, to matches, candles, blue light, flame, fire, blue eyes, and gone. A superb way of carrying the reader along. Each line seems to pull you down to the next. Just a poignant picture of dying and the search for warmth by those remaining, as they attempt to say "FAREWELL". I loved it!

    Phil
    | Posted on 2005-01-21 00:00:00 | by phil askew | [ Reply to This ]


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