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Author: Magnolia
ASL Info:    31/ F
Elite Ratio:    6.14 - 402 /377 /27
Words: 53
Class/Type: Poetry /Misc
Total Views: 2096
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 427



We needn't speak
of it
or write epics
or give thanks to
invented gods;

Our minds are the scrapbooks
that hold
sepia memories,
primal sounds,
leaves pressed moist--

for these things are
our religion,
not for the collective body.

...they couldn't understand
the language anyway.

Submitted on 2006-03-31 15:43:36     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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  Sepia: How to use this word and fit it into this interesting little write you have here.
I could say that you use it as a term of being an enternal value within ourself.

All in all this has a matter of fact sort of tone to it.
Simple and yet so complex as to know what we must individually have within ourselves.

Each has a individual belief and where it might derive from is only within ourselves and the values we have within our own minds.

Now, Sepia was ink used in olden times but I am not sure that there isn't a godess with name also.

I am not sure that I have understood this write but you have surely gave me pause to ponder on this.

Liked it a lot

Respect and Admiration

| Posted on 2006-05-31 00:00:00 | by Wisdom Seeker | [ Reply to This ]
  Poignant and so beautiful. I gez as you go older, you tend to use your wisdom the right pretty way.

| Posted on 2006-05-31 00:00:00 | by D-Ink | [ Reply to This ]
  One word: Interesting....

I really like the ending. It is arrogant and mysterious
"...they couldn't understand
the language anyway"

What is this language? Is it art? If so, who are "they" who can't understand it? Are they critics, narrow-minded fools?

Sepia. Sepia. A cool word. A shade of brown. Sepia is mostly recognized as a type of photographic film. It is like the pictures taken in the 1800s. The pictures, once developed, are brownish. So these sepia memories are quite old, old-fashioned even.

Leaves pressed moist. mind...all of a sudden I have an idea what it MIGHT be! Papyrus! The leaves of the papyrus are woven together while still moist, and pressed and dryed. These leaves pressed moist represent paper. Sepia memories = photographs. Leaves pressed moist = paper (papyrus). I still can't make the link with the primal sounds.

Wait a this whole poem about photographs? We needn't speak of it, write epics, or invent gods. Photography is an art form. Most people don't understand what the photographer is trying to say. I figured it out! Please tell me I'm right! (Am I?)
| Posted on 2006-04-07 00:00:00 | by manwithnoname | [ Reply to This ]
Thank you, thank you, thank you...

This is incredible (as is all your writing) and with all that I have been doing lately spiritually this was just so - wow - I'm doing some serious relating here and you have made my soul soar even higher sweet lady
Very nicely done...
Your last true.
Welcome back dear-sweet lady,

| Posted on 2006-04-02 00:00:00 | by ravenwolf68 | [ Reply to This ] the point.
and of a personal, let-me-tell-you-how-it-is tone, which i like in small doses because it can become stultifying if overdone.
this was just so.
so this hits the spot in that respect and probably moreover because i know what you're saying.
and you say it well, with a mixture of the dreamscape and the sheltered bit behind the darkened fire escape...
you write in an accessible way whilst leaving enough hidden for later consumption, enough to make unspoken promises with.
so there you are R, that is what i think.
good to see you back mate.
| Posted on 2006-04-02 00:00:00 | by Awkward | [ Reply to This ]
  The language of the soul is indeed simple and if we can find the vague and gorgeous terms to say it..
it comes through like this piece Rene. I am scanning the others comments, but you know I've formed mine as I go. No one seems to tell me how to think here, and I am glad for that.

I have to fave it, that's all.

love to you my Rene,

| Posted on 2006-04-01 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
  Lol, I agree with the comment that said that sepia is an awesome word. Most definitely.

My favorite parts were the flow and the imagery. Not only did the poem just flow down to the bottom, but the words you used to describe whatever you were trying to get across were wonderful.
| Posted on 2006-04-01 00:00:00 | by Vintage Emotion | [ Reply to This ]
  Hmm... clearly I should have commented earlier instead of waiting and coming back. So I'm sorry if this is repetitive...

Sepia is an awesome word.

I really like this poem and I wouldn't change a thing riiiiight up until the line not for the collective body That line just doesn't make sense to me.

Well, first, what I think you're trying to say:
Our memories and our emotions and our subconscious are actually more "important"/make us more real than ... anything else. I don't want to say religion, because even though you use that word, I don't think this is a poem about religion at all. Of course, one of the entire points of poetry is to make things like this that can't be put into words make sense...

Anyhow, if that's not what you were trying to say, then uhm, this poem didn't work But if it is what you're trying to say, to some degree, then the last two lines fall really flat. I think it's the anyway. that does it. Maybe the ellipsis. Perhaps you can try moving the ellipsis to the main body of the poem? Eliminating the anyway? Getting rid of the space? (I think the empty space is nice, but it might actually be dampening the poem.)

Oh---and I appreciate that you tackle this sort of idea, with these images, in a short piece, rather than in a long drawn out thing.

| Posted on 2006-04-01 00:00:00 | by bitterlily | [ Reply to This ]
  very beautiful work. Everyone has said most of what I think about this piece so I wont bore you with repetion. I'll just say a few things.

Please get rid of "it" in the second line. There must be some better word to use there, "it" is so weak especially when compared to the rest of your poem.

"leaves pressed moist" is very strange. Not only does the syntax of the line seem strange to me, but the image is add bacause I usually think of pressed leaves as dry. do you mean "moist leaves pressed?"

Finally, that giant space at the end is just unecessary. I wondered briefly if those last lines were even part of the poem and I shouldn't have to.
| Posted on 2006-03-31 00:00:00 | by RodeoClown | [ Reply to This ]
  This was really nice... For some odd reason, one I've never been able to explain, I've always loved sepia photographs. The way it makes the image... instant vintage, I guess you could say. The whole thing was really beautiful, very sweet. Love is, in essence, its own religion. Not everyone regards the same way. This was an amazing piece, great job and welcome back.

| Posted on 2006-03-31 00:00:00 | by Phoenix2004 | [ Reply to This ]
  it's so nice to read you again, Rene'.. i've missed you and your words of wisdom.

i like the feel of this, it reads like a sepia-toned photograph. it is bare and from the soul. i love
the image of our memories being our religion, not
for the masses (is that a pun?!).. and each one's
language is individual and precious and often not understood by others.

this is so simple and poignant. you've come back with a bang!!

| Posted on 2006-03-31 00:00:00 | by magnicat | [ Reply to This ]
  I'm trying to think of how to say just how well assembled this poem is. It's vivid imagery is simply stunning. It's late and I've been out all night so I'm not overly coherrent right now. I'll just say that I'm adding this to my favourite list as I love it. It's simple, yet beautifully effective and I can honestly say that I wouldn't change a single thing about it.
Sepia memories..
I love that, two words which conjure a whole plethora of emotions and warm fuzzy memories that make you sigh and feel so blissful, if just for a moment. All that from two words conjoined through a moment of genius on your behalf.
I'm listening to "Halcyon + on + on" by "Orbital" as I read this so this would help enhance the emotions this poem stirs up within me as it's a very ambient and relaxing track.
Excuse the language but I have to say...
This poem is f**king awesome!

Please, please keep up the excellent work and I will be reading all your other posts.
| Posted on 2006-03-31 00:00:00 | by IrateNate | [ Reply to This ]
  In many cases, experience and memory are the 'soul' of religion; the eternal and personal aspects of our lineage we pass on to unknown/unborn generations. This is a stark, stripped down, eloquent write that deals with issues of understanding most of the world couldn't begin to form questions to address. This was fine and lean and deep. Take care of yourself. Bill.
| Posted on 2006-03-31 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]
  Our minds are sepia scrapbooks... which is what is real and godlike to you... that's really deep sh*t. Jeez. And written so stark and effectively.

I'm kinda at a loss for words. I've been feeling like I need to break out recently... to taste the oyster at my feet... ok, that had nothing to do with this poem... I just woke up and I'm still feeling a bit loopy lol.

One slight nitpick (but this is just personal preference): I don't think you need 'the' before 'scrapbook' - the line looks overlong and sounds just one syllable overlong... but that's just me as I said. Either way, it doesn't really matter... but I thought I'd give you my rusty two cents lol.

A beautiful piece Aunty Nae Nae. You sure were missed.


P.S I just thought this over again... and maybe you just need to break up that line into two... 'Our minds' on the first line, then 'are the scrapbooks' on a line below it. Meh. I dunno. Your call lol.

And you never write crappy. I just wanted to see you post again you freakin' slacker.
| Posted on 2006-03-31 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
  sepia... a fine color. hmm, i wonder sometimes about color. can we really define color in our minds? can you really think of the actual hue of brown? maybe things associated with it, but thats only half of what a color is with our eyes shut. color, one of the true visual abstractions i think. in our own heads, we only think we see black, but thats just the absence of light. and what is color except a shade with light cast upon it and darkness the absence.

hmmm, individuality and our own personal dieties come into play here. whatever it is that makes us who we are, one of the sure things are our memories. personally, i kind of see replayed scenes from days long gone as a bit of a mix between violet and gray.. much like the font color you see when you type up a comment (may be debatable, im on an LCD screen). the fresher ones have a sort of reddish haze... or maybe im just sleepy right now.

but anyways, i like the simplicity of this piece. it speaks volumes and goes back farther for a reader than it normally should. i have a bit of a problem with the last lines though, but its all good. it comes off a bit egotistic... sometimes, its a good idea to bask in that. a fine write.


| Posted on 2006-03-31 00:00:00 | by Pietro | [ Reply to This ]

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