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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Island Of Lost Luggagedots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    57/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2777/1297/258
    Words: 148
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 630
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1143



    Description:
       Perhaps one of the most profound relationships in my life happened about 20 years before I met my wife, when I dated a woman whose soul disintegrated into mental illness at the thought of being shown kindness by someone. She had been sexually abused by both her father and brother, and had kept that secret within herself for 10 years. It was a rocky, unhappy few months punctuated by occassional bouts of happiness that left me pondering the lost, worthless feeling some people must have of themselves. Ultimately, it made me a better person for having known her.


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

    dotsIsland Of Lost Luggagedots
    -------------------------------------------


    I come from a land of
    unclaimed packages,
    where sentiment is
    silly and cold and
    old men in colorless robes
    expound unhinged philosophies
    whisper thin tales
    littering the slim
    skin of distant seas:
    but you're soft as a tartan quilt.

    I come from a land of
    impenetrable anomolies,
    where crook-fingered
    spider veined intelligentsia
    dwell, neutered in the
    cool manner of adding
    machines cast in a
    Boolean hell
    where love is neither
    quantified nor felt:
    yet I marvel at your smile.

    I come from a land of
    unsung soliloquies,
    where children chained
    to exemplary degrees
    by divine persuasion pluck
    sunlight from their sockets
    bow uncalloused knees before
    human devil's withering agendas
    engendering a similar abuse:
    despite the scars
    I would have chosen you.

    I might have clustered among
    crushed roses with them,
    if their frail beauty
    hadn't whispered what to do.




    Submitted on 2005-10-29 17:06:52     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      This is a very powerful piece! Its hard to sometimes see past the wall of emotions and strength that womaen who are sexually abused erect around themselves.

    It is a defense process that often no matter how much another can love you may never come down... it becomes part of us like an extra limb.

    This was very beautifully written and I do beleive that you understood her pain much more than you beleive. There were a few lines that made my think, mainly becasue you really seem to understand her pain but as an outsider... this is a gift I hope you have grown upon and recognize as a blessing

    where love is neither
    quantified nor felt:
    yet I marvel at your smile. Know that through all her pain, she saw you. She saw a loving man not a sexual preditor just because you were a man. These lines prove that you both saw the undying love shared in your relationship.

    The last stanza was also incredible
    "I might have clustered among
    crushed roses with them,
    if their frail beauty
    hadn't whispered what to do." Very powerful words, again its hard to beleive that you felt so much of her pain just by being an outsider to her wall of fear and pain... this is certainly a new fav

    Thanks for understanding our pain... it brings us a lot closer to trust and love

    Hugs,
    ella
    | Posted on 2005-12-17 00:00:00 | by stormyskye | [ Reply to This ]
      You've got be hooked on intellect and faint traces of truth. I lost myself to vanity a long time ago imagining myself in grey clothing and irrelevant lands. And your coming from vague pieces of some sort of memory. Your memory, is that it? Im seeing you remember these images and writing down everything. And the roses, my god the roses. Your smiling, their smiling the god damn world is smiling as you come from this land. A land of some sort.

    "if their frail beauty
    hadn't whispered what to do."

    The whispers were a nice touch.
    Who am i kidding, everything was a nice touch.
    Your obligating me to imagine sunlight and unknown lands were luggage is just another weight that can be thrown away.


    Nice.


    ~
    | Posted on 2005-12-04 00:00:00 | by orderly conduct | [ Reply to This ]
      If you see a bag that has a huge playboy sticker on the side and bumper stickers all over it...that's mine. Thanks.

    This was deep and dark. I think...I may...be lost. LMFAO!

    You have this depth in your work that I am not always good at grasping onto.

    Yet, you still show me your talent!

    Li
    | Posted on 2005-11-21 00:00:00 | by Munchie_1226 | [ Reply to This ]
      this is very good, i can't quite find the words... this reminds of of what it was like when i first started to read poetry in corralation with writing poetry.. this has that same sort of elegance... a sweet mixture of words and emotion...

    also you make good use of subtle.. you do not talk about a lost little girl or anything lame like that...

    this is i can really think to say, but i like it a lot.. when i think back on this day.. i will think of this

    flipside
    -DS
    | Posted on 2005-11-07 00:00:00 | by milo stills | [ Reply to This ]
      Fantastic! I love the use of language and as Graeme said the melacholic tone ...it really expresses well the sadness you and she must have felt...i can relate to what you have written in the description and the poem itself...being a survivor myself...i know all too well how kindness and compliments can unravel me and how mental illness can take hold of a person...even one who has held it together pretty well regardless of having been through great pain and hurt...you are a very talented writer and have captured this extremly well...something i have battled with lately is how messed up i am yet how much people feel that i better their lives...yet i can also cause great sadness through my experiences and my own lack of self esteem at times...although 20yrs of counselling on and off has helped a little there...it tears me apart at times and i wish that i could rid myself of the disease...i wrote a poem recently about just that...i think at times some people may describe having known me the same way that you did her...and i guess it both bothers me but also lightens my load to think that you have such empathy and see where it also bettered your life knowing her:

    "It was a rocky, unhappy few months punctuated by occassional bouts of happiness that left me pondering the lost, worthless feeling some people must have of themselves. Ultimately, it made me a better person for having known her."
    | Posted on 2005-11-04 00:00:00 | by stormyskies | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow, I can't fault this (except "colorless" that irked me)
    An excellent description that sets the melacholic tone of ths very serious piece. I've read this a few times, and it seems to me that it fits well, whether it's her talking to you, or vice versa.

    Very powerful stuff, bloody excellent!

    Be Happy

    Graeme
    | Posted on 2005-10-29 00:00:00 | by wewak11 | [ Reply to This ]


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