[ Join Free! ]
(No Spam mail)

  • RolePlay
  • Join Us
  • Writings
  • Shoutbox
  • Community
  • Digg Mashup
  • Mp3 Search
  • Online Education
  • My Youtube
  • Ear Training
  • Funny Pics
  • nav

  • Role Play
  • Piano Music
  • Free Videos
  • Web 2.0
  • nav

    << | >>

    dots Submission Name: These Friends are Dreamsdots

    Author: Speacenik
    ASL Info:    27/Female/IReland
    Elite Ratio:    7 - 437/381/116
    Words: 278
    Class/Type: Poetry/
    Total Views: 1511
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1870

       This poem just describes being in a room with my friends and the high regard I have for them.

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

    dotsThese Friends are Dreamsdots

    If you wanted
    you could just walk in,
    enter this Bohemian room
    with so many flesh tones
    it’s almost psychedelic.

    Tom twirls a corkscrew curl
    of his mixed race girlfriend’s hair
    as she talks to the drunk Hindu
    playing bongo’s in the corner
    and I sit beside him.

    At school, Tom was called
    ‘Doubting Thomas’.
    He too thumbed
    through philosophy books then
    and we can both still

    quote them verbatim.
    But his finger has felt
    the stigmata’s edge.
    I love to talk with Tom
    to kiss the feet of Jesus

    when they hang on his door
    like humble prayers
    to medicine, or hear
    the poetry of the King James
    when he reads aloud.

    Imrhan, sits under the tricolour,
    calm as a lotus flower,
    though his Iraq
    crumbles like his cigarette’s
    trailing tip.

    Imrhan; Muslim, gay, Buddhist, Kurd,
    his strange accent forms
    around slow vowels, like petals,
    as he spontaneously composes
    a rap song –

    the folk music of Generation X –
    for Yvonne who sits beside him
    and talks of one heated June
    when the Orangemen,
    scorching as the sun,

    marched down Falls Rd,
    her road,
    she attempted to halt them
    but it only ended in a sound
    discordant as a keyboard

    being chucked downstairs,
    her ribs bruising and cracking
    beneath their boots.
    For me, this world she describes
    is as alien as Mars.

    And in my mind, I hear
    some humanist hymn,
    for I idealise these guys
    who, though from religion-ruined
    countries, continue, soldiers of faith.

    Submitted on 2006-03-07 12:05:47     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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

    ||| Comments |||
      Um...this is a great post. With the overall scope and the references to the orangemen, probably the complete ease of your metaphors, this was perfect to me. I don't often have gripes with writing that moves me but even if I wanted to poke holes I doubt I'd find any in this poem.
    I love the description too, "this is just about sitting in a room with some friends and the high regard I have for them". It is indeed, good capture.

    | Posted on 2009-12-31 00:00:00 | by Raphael | [ Reply to This ]
      Aaaah, conclusive proof that I need to to spend much more time on this site. I've missed your work.

    This takes me right back to my time at the University of Washington in the mid 80s. It's surprising how though times have changed, the basic fabric of life hasn't. These are obviously your friends, not mine, but the underlying message beneath the piece is constant. People are people, no matter where they're from. They're worth our friendship.

    I remember introducing my friends at the U to my high school friends when they would come to visit. My high school friends were all like me, we were from small town America, all white, all straight, mostly non-religious, but if we were, we were Protestant Christian. We were right and everyone else was a bit odd.

    At the U, I met Muslims, Buddhists, Taoists, all kinds of other Christian people. I met gays, tranvestites, polyamorous people. I was introduced to readings from Tom Robbins, Confucius, Origen and Jim Morrison. The more I learned, the more I realized that everyone was OK, no matter how different they might be from me. Soon, like you, I had friends from all kinds of different cultures. I can remember sitting on the green grass at 3 in the morning, eating pizza and drinking beer with a Muslim Iraqi a he talked about the failings he was finding in Islam. I remember a new Irish aquaintance (Timothy O'Something, I've misplaced his name) banging on my door at midnight and asking if I wanted to "Pop out for a pint". I remember harrassing a Hawaiian friend the first time she saw ice "in it's natural habitat." I remember learning from all of them.

    Treasure these times and these friends. You might drift from some of them, or even worse lose them, but you'll never forget them. They'll always be part of who you are.

    | Posted on 2006-03-12 00:00:00 | by Lost Sheep | [ Reply to This ]
      I am not going to bash this it is sensational - as you know I'm not religious but that you respect your friends diversity is a beautiful thing. In this disunited world we need more rooms like this where difference is less important than the bonds of friendship.

    The picture you paint is really vivid I love the idea of the drunk Hindu playing bongo’s in the corner. I just know that Tom is incredible and the kissing of Jesus on the crucifix is clearly a Catholic gesture. I'd love to meet this Imrhan:

    Imrhan; Muslim, gay, Buddhist, Kurd,
    his strange accent forms
    around slow vowels, like petals,
    as he spontaneously composes
    a rap song –

    he sounds quite a character and it is terrible to think that your friend Yvonne had to go through such a dreadful time. The love you show at the end, albeit, you recognise that you cannot understand their worlds is beautiful.

    It just makes one wish to be in the room with you. I love it and it is a fav.

    take care

    A beautiful poem.
    | Posted on 2006-03-07 00:00:00 | by comradenessie | [ Reply to This ]
      I agree that this was very well written. The picture i got was amazing. the seperate portraits of your friends that you create blend into a beautiful piece.

    If you wanted
    you could just walk in,
    enter this Bohemian room
    with so many flesh tones
    it’s almost psychedelic.

    This was my favorite part. i can just see the color and mood (can you see mood? :>) and feel the openess. very good job on describing the atmosphere and the individual personalities of those present.

    I also like the refrence to 'doubting Thomas' and the "stigmata" resolution to that comparison.

    Overall, great piece. Thanks for sharing
    | Posted on 2006-03-07 00:00:00 | by Sasha Lynn | [ Reply to This ]
      sounds like a fun bunch. diversity is always a good thing. it really speeds up the learning process, as it sinks in a lot quicker when it comes through living rather than reading. I find your phrase "religion-ruined countries" to be rather bold and quite poignant.

    and I probably need significantly more time to give this its due, but I don't have it right now so I will skip over the in depth praise and get right down to business. Overall, the piece works. It's interesting, it's a slice of life kinda thing mixed in with religious statements with a twist of racial tolerance. There is but one place where I find myself stuttering and I'm not completely sure why, so I'll throw it out here and see what you think, if maybe you might feel a need to tidy it up just a tad -

    At school, Tom was called
    ‘Doubting Thomas’,
    he thumbed through philosophy
    books then, as I did,
    but now, while we can both still quote

    many of their opinions
    verbatim, his finger has felt
    the edges of the stigmata,
    I love to talk with Tom,

    At first I'm thinking there are just too many commas, but upon further review, maybe that's not it. One thing I can see for sure that seems off is that "I love to talk to Tom" doesn't seem right within it's place, that is to say that it maybe should start a new sentence? So I guess I'm saying that I think there should be a period rather than a comma after stigmata. And it's insane for me to suggest punctuation changes since I tend to write very little, so all I can ask you to do is to read it both ways and see what you think.

    And that's the best I can do as far as suggestions go. Now let me share a small dose of what I really love about this.

    I love how you refer to rap music as "the folk music of Generation X". It is so true. When people my age try and dismiss rap I defend it because it is in my opinion the most relevant and creative form of popular music out there today.

    Overall, I just find this to be a fascinating look at your corner of the world and how it actually covers all the world. And really, it makes me want to be there and join the party.

    great stuff Selina. thanks for sharing it
    | Posted on 2006-03-10 00:00:00 | by deadndreaming | [ Reply to This ]
      Reminds me of a world I've rubbed shoulders with (mixed race friends whose children call me 'uncle', an Asian wife who's a Christian convert, Moslem in-laws, multi-cultural contacts throughout the planet); definitely been there. This an insightful glimpse of a roomful of people who come to life under the tutelege of your pen. Philosophers who've found religion, refugees who've found a home, divergent backgrounds forming a family.; militancy with a soft edge. A remarkable write. Take care of yourself. Bill.
    | Posted on 2006-03-07 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]
      The imagery is well-woven, you can literally see the sounds and people. I've lived this lifestyle more than once - it has certain aesthetic qualities to it.

    I like how you've brought together a whole bunch of different people and expressed the unity with in each, in this little room.

    My favorite strophe is the second.

    Well done.

    | Posted on 2006-03-08 00:00:00 | by 27_deadpoets | [ Reply to This ]

    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

    1. Be honest.
    2. Try not to give only compliments.
    3. How did it make you feel?
    4. Why did it make you feel that way?
    5. Which parts?
    6. What distracted from the piece?
    7. What was unclear?
    8. What does it remind you of?
    9. How could it be improved?
    10. What would you have done differently?
    11. What was your interpretation of it?
    12. Does it feel original?


    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.




    User Name:


    [ Quick Signup ]
    [ Lost Password ]

    January 10 07
    131,497 Poems

    I have 14,000+ Subscribers on Youtube. See my Video Tutorials

    [ Angst Poetry ]
    [ Cutters ]
    [ Famous Poetry ]
    [ Poetry Scams ]

    [ Smaller ] [ Bigger ]