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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: February Scrapbookdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: expiring_touch
    ASL Info:    30/f/Hamburg
    Elite Ratio:    4.02 - 137/245/159
    Words: 434
    Class/Type: Poetry/Love
    Total Views: 1097
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2994



    Description:
       1)Initially this was intended to be a Christmas Anthology, but it took a long time to write; and when I finished I realized that its more of a love anthology, so that's how it's got its name - february scrapbook, with valentines day around the corner.

    2) this includes 3 poems that were already posted here, hope together they'll look a whole (instead of shattered pieces) and clarify some things.
    3)Please tell me what you think about each of the poems, a perhaps suggest a better order of pitting them together.


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

    dotsFebruary Scrapbookdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Part I Pretty winter

    Shall I see you again? -tonight,
    In the middle of winter,
    When shadows die by the lampposts,
    We'll ride to a place,
    Where moon phials streak across the mended mirrors,
    And dust collects on the velvet tables -
    A phantom of the snow outside.

    I conjure the images, you dance the blues,
    And here we are, blue statues of quicksilver -
    For falling, breathing rose petals on the windows:
    They ice themselves and cover
    Our sleep, and conscience, and night - away.

    We know the touch expires and the perfume fades
    With time into the rushing headlights of the streets,
    And I will keep forgetting how to hold my head
    For inspiration.

    We stay together in a place, an apparition of our dreams,
    Statues of shadow to die in the morning,
    Dissolve together, and dance to the blues,
    On the parquet, burning, from so many feet.


    Part II - Christmas Garland

    The day I accepted I loved You -
    As in bold, italic, formal - Sir,
    Mere yawn thrown on the scattered poems,
    An arrow whistling in the dreamy streets -
    So cold, so lost,
    Gold and blue, and sky in feathers,
    And far away, on the very borders
    Of the fingerprint universe
    I painted for both of us,
    A whisper.

    It stretched across the whole of humanity,
    It tickled in your ear
    And brushed against your frozen cheeks,
    And plunged together with the snow,
    Where it would agonize and melt -
    Drops of moon on the pavement.

    My love is but a blasphemy,
    Reach out and fall,
    Winter's oaths keep breaking,
    And I'm burnt out -
    An old Christmas garland
    On its last Christmas tree.


    Part III - Meeting Again

    I let the wind draw ice sculptures from my breath,
    And play with them, and break them,
    Leaving but dunes of ashes and white sleeves
    To billow in the shadows.

    I let you draw me close to you -again -
    You took my hand in yours and showed me
    How to glide, so smoothly, through the floor,
    Like underwater gymnast.

    I let you watch me cry -though you don't know this -
    With closed eyelids, tantalizing hints.
    I let you braid my lashes to the night and marry
    The break of cosmos, slipping in between my lips.











    Submitted on 2006-02-04 04:34:29     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I think your anthology is very well written and each poem flows into the next and this makes the whole thing hang together perfectly.

    A superb scrapbook you have here...keep adding to it.

    Frank.
    | Posted on 2006-02-04 00:00:00 | by Frank Maguire | [ Reply to This ]


    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

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