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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Something in Your Eyesdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: TD
    ASL Info:    34/f/Aust
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 92/81/21
    Words: 278
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 687
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1993



    Description:
       This is a little bit (or a lot) random.... I guess I just had to get it out regardless.

    Feedback and thoughts most welcome. I will definitely return to rework this one.


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

    dotsSomething in Your Eyesdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Gently, freely stirs
    the early morning. The canefields
    stream endlessly by, garbed
    in flashes of yellow glitter
    scattered carelessly like yesterday's afternoon showers.
    And the Rosella's and Peach Faced Lovebirds
    scream an ill-timed orchestra,
    and threaten the sun with rainbows,
    briefly – as we speed by;
    barely remarked.
    The lorries and delivery vans join us
    on their rounds, rumbling
    down the street; – cold,
    metallic, grey, Spartan,
    marring the sweet scent of molasses.
    But hardly a held breath,
    and the summer morning arises
    again,
    to wrap our humble journey
    in pleasing solitude.

    Now only solitude.

    There he resides, in the enduring warmth
    of our Saturday ritual drive
    to the Sandy Creek Bakery.
    Yes, in some distant leg of time,
    he buys me a cream-filled bun,
    with strawberry jam that sticks in the corners
    of my lips, while he
    and old Mister Harwood give a repeat performance
    of a duologue I know by heart–
    How I beg to be an audience again!
    But somehow life betrays us:
    vigour, charitable, resolute,
    unescapable in the end.

    Guardians of souls passed!
    (If that's what he believed)
    Do you share his ritual
    through canefields and Rosellas?
    Dare I admit? You see
    the truth in any case–
    jealous, aching, lost.

    Then, when the gloom is most bare,
    a faint rainbow threatens,
    and like the spirit of a kiss, you come to mind–
    something in your eyes takes me by surprise,
    Hope! Do I hope?
    For the fallen, the
    lonely, abused, desperate,
    faded;
    my cream-filled bun?
    If, in the rubble left behind,
    I see the stir of early morning,
    gently, freely, then
    I will follow your eyes.




    Submitted on 2005-12-29 08:18:35     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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




    ||| Comments |||
      Where in the <BLEEP> are all the comments of praise that this deserves. I can't believe that it's gone unnoticed!!

    You've captured loss here. You've grabbed it, confined it and placed it there for all to see. You've captured how beautiful memories can be quietly transformed into causes of pain. How happy rituals and habits can be changed in a moment.

    The first part is a great introduction. It's a memory, but we don't really realize it at the time, because we're living it with you.

    The single offset line Now only solitude freezes us in our tracks.

    The second paragraph is where it all becomes powerful. Now we realize that it was a memory and
    in some distant leg of time,
    he buys me a cream-filled bun,
    with strawberry jam that sticks in the corners
    of my lips

    This is so poignant, so detailed, so ... real. You're still relating the memory, but now you're telling us of the loss.
    How I beg to be an audience again!
    Such desperate, open, honest loneliness.

    Very impressive work!

    Steve
    | Posted on 2006-02-14 00:00:00 | by Lost Sheep | [ Reply to This ]


    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

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    85898

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.


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