I have to be honest with you champ, this isnt very good poetry. It contains no poetic from what so ever, it looks to me like you tried to start off writing a sestina (if you even know what that is) and you were either to stupid or just weren't able to whip your cream. And you images make no sense, "Mysty stones" what the f~~~ does that mean? I call things like this individualism, you want so badly to be an original poet! But how? Make up stupid non sensical iamgery in an aborted attempt at a higher form. Really, you wasted my time by forcing me to read this. O ya im sure an ape like you (i read the comments you leave on other people pages) will come back to me and go off the handle and go nuts because i havent posted anything yet, so why dont you wait till i do before you have your..shall we say vengence. Ok honey.
For some reason or another I really enjoyed this. I liked reading about this search of "a moth / on a lily / lulling safely in the shallows". This flowed very effectively and the breaks in your lines were wisely placed. I took this as someone searching for that one person in their life that will make their life complete. That single one person, that you believe is out there just for you. And in your "dance/one last time" you realize that the look in their eyes is the one that you've always wanted and your search will end with a "celebration to the end of days". :) I loved it. Wonderful.
I know that this really has nothing to what your work is really about...but I just wanted to say that it reminds me of every time I travel between my 'homes' - where my parent's house is and where I live to go to school - and I always get this tingly feeling when we reach the city limits. I unno...it's just this made me think of that feeling... I went to 'visit' my parents for reading week - I feel like a guest inmy own house...living out of a suitcase and all that jazz - and I got that tingly feeling when I went home...but I got it even worse when I returned to the city. I guess I know what that says...Anyways, that's all I got...so I'll stop boring you with my meaningless words...
this poem is behind the waves of water this poem is stage two of sleep this poem is called Outside "city limits" this poem is on the fringe of consciousness
this is why I like this poem
this poem is like a stnoe that skips on love, ghosts, and the pills that allieviate our nervous apprehension
very trippy stuff, very surreal and open to interpretation.
thanks for offering to "answer some of my questions" because I do have one...
since you are a good poet ( i think maybe) ...
who are some good poets here I should check out.. the people on the "recent" page are boring as hell..... I need some suggestions
This is the most beautiful poem i have ever read here.
The rest is silence...
And i wish i could jus leave it at that, but Jimmy's a butthole and won't let me...so fu.ck it!
I'll put something up:
The Lost Mistress
All's over, then: does truth sound bitter As one at first believes? Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night twitter About your cottage eaves!
And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly, I noticed that today; One day more bursts them open fully -You know the red turns grey.
Tomorrow we meet the same then, dearest? May I take your hand in mine? Mere friends are we,-well, friends the merest Keep much that I resign:
For each glance of that eye so bright and black, Though I keep with heart's endeavour,- Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops back, Though it stay in my soul for ever!-
-Yet I will but say what mere friends say, Or only a thought stronger; I will hold your hand but as long as all may, Or so very little longer!
Ahh Ben, this has a quality like water pouring into water. The expression of love in the beginning shows us the way, the "shallowness" of the soul and it's eternal questions. Not such a bad idea, my friend, real love is so precious, how can we know?
knowing that your words form rivers and rivers feed oceans with lips like the stones (take out the) at the foot of a waterfall
where there are gardens men will gather to haunt graves or steal flowers in the name of anything save themselves
this one is superb and in a very simple fashion captures the allure of a woman, in a beautiful and honest way-it has goddess written all over it, in fact that would be a fitting title because it frames up the entire show..
but no, I like the idea of outside the city limits, much like thinking outside of the box, without metaphorical hardwiring. You have a nice touch Ben san, even your moths will survive the intense light and heat! Thanks for sharing,
This seems less about a transforming love and more about passion alienating the former from the subsequent self (as if the warmth of a great desire gave way to the numbness of novacaine in its afterglow). There is an intense, yet gentle lyrical quality in the fluidity of each line (although I think you could do without the entire first stanza without losing any of the magic or meaning in the write). A very understated and nicely written pastoral of the love/nature dichotomy. Perfectly done. Take care. Bill.
Ok, two little niitpicks (I always have one or two for you, I don't know why lol) - this strophe doesn't connect syntactically to me - 'because you like the ghost with your eyes are a celebration to the end of days' - because you like the ghost with your eyes? Maybe you meant 'in your eyes? I don't get it... clarify for me please?
And I'm pretty sure it's spelt 'lily' with one 'L' unless you damn Americans spell that funny too lol.
I don't know what this means so I won't pretend... other than what I got was a sort of longing for something, something pure like that lily and waterfall... which are symbols of purity anyhow (to me). Cities are dirty polluted things, so to step outside also reinforces this feeling of wanting to get away and breathe fresh air.
Hmm... as I said I really don't know what I'm talking about so I'll leave it at that lol. It's a nice piece and all.
wow a bunch of people wrote a bunch of crap about this poem, so instead of bandwagoning, i am just going to say this: blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
great write, blah, blah, i enjoyed it, blah, blah, this is for my rating, blah, blah
interestingly abstract, but somehow, strangely soothing, not just the "abstract themes" inherent in here, but the word choice. it goes from a voice then to dreaming, sleeping and/or death. transition easy, and smooth. like peanut butter. not chunky.
maybe it was the moth, somehow, those creepy fuzzy insects seem warm to me.
Uhhhh...sup with the blah blah blah message? That's messed up!?
This was really good! I liked it! It flowed so freely and was so "gentle" i guess so to say. I can imagine you at a poetry/coffee shop steppin up on stage with this one!
"I found this abstract poem very exhilarating. It tastes smooth like a well aged scotch or if you like, a placid river to the sea. The reference to a moth on a lily, would that be a white moth on a white lily (lulling safely in the shadows). Your style is reminiscent of Leonard Cohen. I hope to see more 0of your work.---Mugs---
Submission Name: outside the city limits
