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    dots Submission Name: Awake on a Southern Summer Nightdots

    Author: cuddledumplin
    ASL Info:    36/ f/UK
    Elite Ratio:    4.08 - 6269/5927/526
    Words: 190
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 917
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1245

       The title is better than the poem again. I hate it when it gets really hot, and I have a couple of months before that happens. For some reason, when it gets hot, I read Southern writers. William Styron has written some of the bleakest stuff I've ever read (especially Sophie's Choice). Faulkner makes me claustrophobic; I think it's his style. All of those wordy words turn into this mental wall. Ok, that sounds crazy, but it's true.

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

    dotsAwake on a Southern Summer Nightdots

    The days get you dizzy
    thought drunk on your own sweat.
    It wears off into a dulling crash
    when the sun goes down.
    Those Southern summer nights
    are Styron bleak and Faulkner fierce.
    Even the wind and rain
    are accented with a sepulchral drawl
    that harasses your windows and roof.
    Even with the AC, iced tea, and RC Cola
    you want to die three times
    in three different ways by morning.
    Fate mocks you,
    but not for sleeping alone;
    It's far worse--
    you're awake and your dog is beside you
    in your stripped bed at 5 am
    he's keeping you pushed close to the edge,
    but you're too nice to wake him,
    and you wish you could quiet
    the obnoxious crickets and boisterous birds
    giving you that sober, sobering headache,
    but you know that if you slept,
    your dreams would be nightmares,
    so you greet the ragged dawn,
    that bright collage of torn construction paper
    with something like enthusiasm.
    You know you'll doze off around noon
    after the dogs wakes,
    and you down a couple of aspirin
    as if you need another bitter pill.

    Submitted on 2005-04-09 16:39:12     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I am happy that in Germany those days/nights are pretty rare. but I know it very well when it gets too hot so you can't really sleep. and you described it pretty well. I'm not reading Faulkner and so on when it gets unbearable hot but the way you put it it fits in there really well. nothing to criticze for me here. really good poem. well done, Amy.
    | Posted on 2005-04-24 00:00:00 | by eve1684 | [ Reply to This ]
      I have had those nights (and days too) but I do miss the southern nights. they could be very uncomfortable but I liked them anyway. the stillness. the quiet. and it was warm. sometimes I didn't have ac and would have to take several showers a day. but it beats winter anytime. hope your nights are better this year. excellent poem, by the way. I felt like I was back in VA.
    | Posted on 2005-04-13 00:00:00 | by sierramuse8 | [ Reply to This ]
      i AM STUCK IN A VOID, THE INTERNET STOLE MY FIRST COMMET; AND OH WHAT A GRAND COMMENT IT WAS. tHIS IS NOTHING BUT A SHADOW OF THE soliliquy that came before it, and I feel ashamed that it was lost. I carried on about the languid somthing or another and the drunken state that consumes me. Your poem was a befittting eulogy to the night that I hope to forget. It was not a bad night, but I was alone without my love, and so the night could only be an attmept to escape my longing. I soely wish that you could have read my initial post. It was far better. But this is all that I have to give now, at 5 AM, regretting my inability to subside.
    | Posted on 2005-04-10 00:00:00 | by Black Rock Tractor | [ Reply to This ]
      Thought drunk on your own sweat

    Now aint that true. I see myself lying there thinking and sweating. Eewwww what a mightmare when youre tired and thats just how it gets you in the day lol. I totally got the feeling your were portraying. It made me laugh about the dog hogging the bed. Noises of nature and things so much louder in the night when youre trying to sleep lol!

    Good write. I felt humour and your irritation in this poem
    Kate XOXOOX
    | Posted on 2005-04-10 00:00:00 | by elephantasia | [ Reply to This ]
      Do I know what you are saying. You should name this one "Confessions of a Day Sleeper" because I know what you mean. I love the image of torn construction paper as the dawn, it's almost surreal and faked-out,
    even the humidity has a way of making things look.
    I don't know Styron, but your take on Faulkner is right on, feisty little rich boy, walls of ego words I don't choose to climb. Great job Amy, thanks for sharing.
    I'm so glad you are writing.
    Hugs and peach cobbler,
    | Posted on 2005-04-10 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      This just goes to prove that Southerners are nicer. This character didn't even want to wake the dog. :) I think that the title and the poem are both equally great. It was sort of a look on someones life. I always enjoy getting lost in your writings. I felt like I was the one with the sober, sobering headache. Mainly because I have a headache right now! Southern summer nights, that just sounds refreshing. Gosh I can't wait for summer now. :) Great job. I really liked this.
    | Posted on 2005-04-09 00:00:00 | by borderlinetears | [ Reply to This ]
      You don't like the summer heat?
    As with your poem and all of your poems I like the summer heat.
    I like to sweat....is that strange?

    I know what it feels like to have a dog laying next to you taking up the whole bed...and you don't want to wake him because at least he is sleeping.

    oh yeah are you playing air guitar in your picture...lol or ready to box somebody?

    | Posted on 2005-04-09 00:00:00 | by armand | [ Reply to This ]
      i've read this a few times and it seems you have tweaked it a bit and added a new beginning since i read it last. i love the word "sepulchral" although i can't pronounce it! i remember well the heat and humidity in the south and it just saps you and makes you useless and senseless. there are so many good images here. when you speak of not disturbing the dog i had to laugh 'cause it makes me think about when all the cats are on the bed and i can't move... they win and i just lay there or try to get out of the bed without disturbing them.

    this made me want to dig up that poem i wrote for you called "underwear and the muse." i think i will!

    your writes lately are just packed with great images. perhaps the extensive sleep you just had brought the muse a bit closer?...
    | Posted on 2005-04-09 00:00:00 | by magnicat | [ Reply to This ]
      yeah I know what that feels like. I used to get them, but not any more.I don't know why but I don't want them any way. The only thing I can do is sleep it off 24 hours. lucky I'm am deaf without my CI.
    | Posted on 2005-04-09 00:00:00 | by hotrodruss | [ Reply to This ]

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