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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Our horrid bodiesdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: ellisa
    Elite Ratio:    5.51 - 400/415/125
    Words: 93
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 1249
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 749



    Description:
       ZZZZsleep and writing are becoming my only activities of late, if this is awful its because i really need to do the former, if i dreamt this then i've been doing too much of the latter...oh i'll see which way it went in the morning...

    sorry

    thank you

    :)

    zzz


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

    dotsOur horrid bodiesdots
    -------------------------------------------




    When we run down
    Riveted planes,
    And angles make our beds-
    One day, when
    Spillage out,
    Or freezing down
    Beneath wheels,
    On empty air puddles
    Cracked by kids’ cold, boot-toes,
    We’ll lay ourselves.
    Perhaps out, one day
    Upon a windscreen,
    Shattered by the morning
    Swift commute…
    But still clinging.
    When we fall,
    Dripping
    Into one another,

    From our horrid
    Bodies.
    Which have been
    Our solitary, soft-cells,
    Which have let us join
    But as one.
    We shall finally,
    In some longer lasting
    Promise of faith;

    Blend.






    Submitted on 2005-05-17 17:27:44     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      I missed you.
    Came to see what you were up to.
    Found this.

    See you're getting along just fine without me (boohoo)
    Nah, this is just really cool to read. I was all wide-eyed the whole way through, trying to figure out what it was about.
    Then I realized it was on too many levels for my small mind to comprehend and decided it was about rain drops.
    Then I saw everyone else seemed to think it was about death and life and those kinds of things.
    Oh well.

    In all seriousness, I like how raw and jagged this came across as. The title began the stabbing even before I read the poem... "Our Horrid Bodies" ...
    Very hard language

    'Riveted planes,'
    Cracked, shattered, etc.

    How brutal.

    "Or freezing down
    Beneath wheels,
    On empty air puddles"

    is my favorite. I didn't realize it was twisted until my third reading.
    Empty air puddles.
    Fascinating.

    Well, I'm out, just had to get my say in here.
    I can't say it was lovely, that sounds too pussy for the poem. But I liked it a lottttt

    ~Akhi~
    | Posted on 2005-05-31 00:00:00 | by Alize | [ Reply to This ]
      I like the antithetical jist of this, the whole concept, metaphor of insectoid smooshies and bendies, the collide-clash-come-hither and blend of this piece. There isn't much I'd suggest changing, beyond perhaps the use of caps in each line, and that only because the joining of S1 and S2 would be smoother without them. I tend to use caps a lot but for this piece I would break it up and only use them to start a new sentence/idea. Your work is becoming more focused and I see a crystallization going on that is very exciting to watch.

    Oh, and I loved the title, too!

    It's groovy.
    | Posted on 2005-05-27 00:00:00 | by Vancrown | [ Reply to This ]
      The first stanza is very busy...it takes a lot of focus to get through the muck you have layed out for us. Once there, this is a beautiful thought, the blending of two human beings into one through the process of sifting through loads of crap together.

    As for the heavy top on this, I read it and read it and see what can be weeded out but the only thing that really stands out to me is the second "one day"

    One day, when
    Spillage out,
    Or freezing down
    Beneath wheels,
    On empty air puddles
    Cracked by kids’ cold, boot-toes,
    We’ll lay ourselves.
    Perhaps out, one day
    Upon a windscreen,
    Shattered by the morning
    Swift commute…

    now look -

    One day, when
    Spillage out,
    Or freezing down
    Beneath wheels,
    On empty air puddles
    Cracked by kids’ cold, boot-toes,
    We’ll lay ourselves.
    Perhaps out,
    Upon a windscreen,
    Shattered by the morning
    Swift commute…

    I don't see where you lose anything yet it comes out a little cleaner...a little less congested.

    And this is all that I can muster. I'm so excited cause I think I'm starting to get you!

    Another beauty el
    | Posted on 2005-05-25 00:00:00 | by deadndreaming | [ Reply to This ]
      I struggled a bit with the intro but I got the picture as the poem continued.

    I guess even a child can draw the connection between a stray dog exploded in gore on the road and a cut on their own finger ...

    I also guess we all like to view death from a comfortable distance, but then I continue to guess that is the only way we can view it.

    It alludes to some sort of continued existence when the inevitable happens. I guess we all like to entertain our own notions of what will happen when we die - maybe some sort of brave demeanor to have control of things in all situations - but I guess it is all carried out by higher authorities, much like our waking life in these little bundles of bodiness.

    I like how you don't tag some clichéd ending on it, like a cheesy new age bumper sticker (which when done makes for sounding like someone who is dreaming that they have woken up from a dream). It is kind of like admitting the mystery of ideath and the unpleasantness of being an eternal soul with rotting molars -lol
    | Posted on 2005-05-20 00:00:00 | by kanu | [ Reply to This ]
      wow. I loved this. beautiful rhythm flowing gracefully to a wonderful ending. nice, nice work! I know I've read a couple of your poems before. I should have come back sooner. this is just great. perfect. a favorite!
    | Posted on 2005-05-18 00:00:00 | by sierramuse8 | [ Reply to This ]
      Feckin Magic!

    Took me a coupla reads to get it though. I like the Norman McCaiginess of it. The form is bang on in this one as you seem to have managed to place emphasis on the important bits.

    One of my favourite things is cracking those big old frozen puddles. I enjoyed the way you've been thinking about the horrid things that can happen to you alongside the thought of horrid bodies.

    The idea at the end of blending in an afterlife is very nice. I take it to be the blending of all different faiths and people. Pretty much as it is now only without Chris deBurgh and Christine Hamilton.

    The great road has many paths and there's no gate on it.
    | Posted on 2005-05-18 00:00:00 | by Sanny | [ Reply to This ]
      It's interesting, especially the second stanza. Although I don't know why you would break up alot of the lines the way you did- as many of them on their own do not make complete thoughts. From our horrid
    Bodies- is one example. This I think would work better as one line. There are many more examples I could give you but you probably have the general idea. Perhaps you maybe had a specific reason for doing this anyways. "Solitary soft cells"- that line stands out alot to me in this piece. It is what is most memorable to me about it.
    | Posted on 2005-05-17 00:00:00 | by fo | [ Reply to This ]
      This is kind of free flow and loses me at times. It is also a fairly negative view of life and I hope it only represents a passing phase in your existence. Cherish your body - you are only loaned one for a while and if you check behind your left earlobe you will find an expiry date. Don't even joke about being laid out on a windscreen. It could so easily happen. I used to think I was immune to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune until like Harold at the Battle of Hastings, one of those arrows got me in the eye. Now I wear safety glasses and take good care of what's left of my horrid little body. Take care yourself.
    | Posted on 2005-05-17 00:00:00 | by hanuman | [ Reply to This ]
      I dont think this had negative overtones overall... were all bound in filflth, and with this fact in mind dreary dreariness is lesss lonely.
    The images, well, the first stanza, was well, lets say ... angular. Were on our one seperate corners on cold mornings such as this... so mundane... The "we are united" slogan that is comonly used takes on a brand new twist with this poem.... the angle that you used I find quite amazing- corners melt in one fluid drop... nice... just like water. stay up
    | Posted on 2005-05-31 00:00:00 | by screams | [ Reply to This ]


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