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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Bedside Book of Bastardsdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    57/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2777/1297/258
    Words: 90
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 988
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 915



    Description:
       A companion to a recent post.


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

    dotsThe Bedside Book of Bastardsdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Another baptism
    in familiar pools,
    pilgrims before
    the same bright 'ism' ;
    perpetual shimmerings
    soothing youth with
    prickling cordite,
    a canopy of
    whistling
    confusion.

    We've bartered
    words with alacrity
    in our divine
    kingdom; dry veined
    blue stemmed
    pulseless
    mannequins,
    shout 'freedom',
    shove children
    forward
    whispering
    'protect',
    smiling
    as if leaden intellect
    were brass spun
    glowing gold,
    bartered from
    a hemorrhaged
    sunset's treason.

    The entourage deified
    a memory,
    a plethora
    of hell's peculiar
    reasons;
    games that are not
    lives that are
    we'll play no more
    in Eden.





    Submitted on 2006-01-06 18:06:13     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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




    ||| Comments |||
      That's an incredible title and I strongly approve of anti-war poems.

    I recently attended a vigil for the 100th British soldier to die in Iraq.

    His name was Corporal Gordon Pritchard, 31. He was married with three children, and came from near Edinburgh.

    That week families of dead soldiers expressed anger at Britain's continuing presence in Iraq but Tony Blair made it clear that would the death of British soldiers would not deter him from his mission to nick the Iraqi oil and make up to Bush.

    These are strong words.

    shout 'freedom',
    shove children
    forward
    whispering
    'protect',
    smiling
    as if leaden intellect
    were brass spun
    glowing gold,
    bartered from
    a hemorrhaged
    sunset's treason.

    Rose Gentle, from Glasgow, whose 19-year-old son Gordon, of the Royal Highland Fusiliers, was killed by a roadside bomb in Basra in 2004, said: "How many of our boys are going to die before we say 'enough' and put an end to this bloody, illegal war?

    love and peace (that would be nice)
    Comrade nessie
    | Posted on 2006-02-09 00:00:00 | by comradenessie | [ Reply to This ]
      Ooooh another phenomenal piece, vividly painting the scene of another war torn country...IRAQ...You sagaciously a marvellous work...Its sad that, this aint just random thoughts from ur mind but a reality to many who don't have much of a place to regard as safe. Instead many of these beings are subjected to torture. Furthermore ur diction was so incredible..I loved your choice of words..A very meticulously penned down piece...so thoroughly enjoyed..Be happy..Nobantu
    | Posted on 2006-02-21 00:00:00 | by Nobantu | [ Reply to This ]
      I really liked this. The strongest images I got were pilgrims and later a nation working on the hearts and minds of people and youth so that one sense is enflamed will others are suppressed. It's our God given right... it's them or us...we must attack in order to protect...those sorts of justifications being implanted by figures of authority. I really liked how the poems moved from the pilgrims to modern day. As with all your poems there are some nice sounds playing off each other and effective rhythms.

    Goodstuff DB
    | Posted on 2006-01-23 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ]
      am i going off the deep end by finding parallels in your work and Awkward's? it's quite good. why does poetry written in a male's voice strike a chord with me and girl-stuff leave me cold? (well, with a few exceptions...). this one's kinda Robert Graves (my highest compliment, i assure you) meets Jung.
    | Posted on 2006-01-20 00:00:00 | by ruejacobs | [ Reply to This ]
      First, let me say that this is one of the finest titles I have ever encountered! (lol) I will resist the comedic urge to give a 200 word review of that alone.

    But on to the meat of the matter. This, like much good poetry, leave its subject somewhat vague and open, allowing the reader to bring their own damn baggage to the table. I like that in a satirical/condemnation piece.

    The images of war and its exchangable "isms", the clear and rightous need to destroy whatever threatens the local ism without need for further reflection or meaningful justification is sadly poinant today. Anything seems so said often enough and treason's just a hesitation away.

    Jason
    | Posted on 2006-01-17 00:00:00 | by Jason The Basta | [ Reply to This ]
      Resisting the title was futile!
    I really liked what I read to be a piece on the ironic folly of a war (& young people in familiar pools) that is spun of a false substance. I liked how you gave us images with the mannequins & whispered "buzz" words like "protect" that shows how automatons are complicit in the road to hell, paved with the plethora of good intentions.
    See how your vocab has rubbed off? I love poems that spark my brain. Thanks for your words & images! Gets better w/each read!
    Cleo
    | Posted on 2006-01-16 00:00:00 | by CleoCollier | [ Reply to This ]
      Bill,
    there is a really good grasp of your own particular rhythm in this poem. I'm starting to get a feel for how you write... your style.. your breath... and it makes you easier to read. I think that's a good thing, as long as you keep tackling new issues and ideas. Poets of particular forms need new ideas... poets of particular ideas ned new forms... balance.
    There are a couple little places in the last stanza that need a tweak. Though an entourage is many people, it is a singular noun. The correct form of Deify is therefore "deifies."
    "a plethora
    of hell's peculiar
    reason;"
    I'm not sure what you're saying here. Are we talking about more than one hell or more than one reason? If it's more than one hell, the apostrophe should go after the 's' in hells making it "hells'" Which would be the plural possessive. If it's a single hell with a pleathora of reasons... 'reason' should be 'reasons'.
    I know it's nit-picky but the nits are what make really good poetry greater.
    | Posted on 2006-01-14 00:00:00 | by DavidHirt | [ Reply to This ]
      As a veteran, I'd say this was written by one, or someone close to a sad ending of another. Or perhaps someone just very aware of the many? Reality rules! While I always knew I'd have to follow "orders" for whatever, I often had the feeling that the "Peter principle" was always at work.

    As mentioned, this is colorful enough to envoke many symbols. I'm also taken in by your wonderful generation of titles for this and your other works. They speak of character and invite investigation.

    Will you be running for office soon?
    | Posted on 2006-01-08 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      Perhaps I’ve misunderstood. This appears to refer to warfare, and I hope I’ve not misinterpreted your intentions. You display a wonderful vocabulary. I like “a plethora of Hell’s [it’s capitalized, btw] peculiar”, and “perpetual shimmerings...”, and the last 3 lines of S1 are quite good, too.
    I do feel that the the imagery and metaphor are a bit excessive, particularly with “...were brass spun glowing gold”. Brass is normally considered an inferior substitute for gold, and hence not something to extol. Perhaps you wanted to refer to the military brass, but I think these few lines are overcrowded with metaphor.
    Overall, this is extremely expressive, rich, and well-written, though only likely to be appreciated by other writers...though that’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Well done!
    fred
    | Posted on 2006-01-06 00:00:00 | by fredmelden | [ Reply to This ]


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