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Poetic Ramblings of a Foxgirl (multi-lit)
Deja Vu Small voices from the dark, a littered mind. The children of passing thought, plucked from the whirlwind between. Memories half-remembered, songs whose tunes we cannot place. A single vision sends a tremor of recognition through everything but the tongue. Such is life, brimming with déjà vu. |
Unexpected Endings
Unexpected endings
Time, the wily rogue, appears behind a blade to your throat. All that planning blotted by rain, soaking into your quivering husk of stress. The steel edge frees grains of red sand. Your hourglass bursts with it. There is no place to hide from Time. He loves the “ready.” Crouching in shadow, he baits for that pause: between breaths of relief and the smile that slides from Man’s lips to eyes. You watched and he waits. Time ensnared you still. |
Please note that you only need one thread for your poetry. Be sure to read the forum's rules before posting.
I've merged your two poetry threads into one. |
I like it. Your first is a bit vauge and has a lot of fragments. I'd like to see it drawn out more, really. The imagry is a wonderful start, too.
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Isn't that how deja vu is though? Vague fragments of ghost memories?
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Yes, but you're writing should still have correct grammer. You're sentences shouldn't be fragments. You have good imagry, but it doesn't really give anything to the poem.
Like you're poetry should show me a story. Like for instance I should be asking questions like... 1) What voices? Why are they there? What is their involvement with this deja vu? 2) What child are you talking about? What does it have to do with Deja vu? Why is being plucked from a whirlwind? What do you mean by 'whirlwind inbetween'? Why is there a wirlwind even mentioned? 3) What is 'such is life' suppose to mean? What that life is deja vu? Is full of it? It's also very cliche to use that... now that I think of it. A poem is suppose to paint a picture or what's ever happening with words. It's... like write thinking you're describing a color to someone blind. Someone that doesn't know what you mean. Answer all the obvious quetions that come with it, but don't make it obvious that you're actully answering them. Does that make more sense? |
By the way... You should totally go check out my Challenge. I think it would help you with your writing along with the form poetry thread I put up.
I had to ask permission for the Challenge... This is definitly not Gaia. I can't even set up a Critique Thread like I'd like to. They're not allowed. |
secret keeper
Secret Keeper
Shh! Don’t tell. Secrets dwell here. In the darkness these grey tomes gather dust, bound with writhing shadows of the heart’s dark parts. I keep the book of secrets, charged with this task: hands cut from holding black shards from other souls. I’m not among the noticed, still invisible once found. They cast their thorns before me. Their footsteps make no sound. Haunted, empty eyes won’t see me where I stand but their mumbled words of “Thank you” are for me. When they leave, I am alone collecting broken glass, with red fingers trained with time, to sort and store the secrets they cannot stand to keep. |
Between the acts
Fall, the dying beauty, full of slender brown skins shedding colored robes of orange, red, and yellow. Cider and earth tempt the nose and mouth full with longing. Flighty chilling breeze, playful and subtle, carries every scrap of that colored cloth, tugs at hair and beckons with belonging. The slowness of the world so pronounced, it whispers of the fading winds: Bring the blankets of snow. |
My drug
Raise cracked lips to Lady Nut! Droplets sizzle down your throat, quenching parchment skin. Sweet, vanquished thirst. Your reedy limbs grow plump with greedy sucking, wet grass slides between bare toes. This gift is yours. Clothes grown heavy with need, the threads of denim shiver with their gross appeal. Too soon to fade. Catch your ecstasy and wonder at the soothe it brings your mind. The skies fulfill your crave in summer rain. |
Keep It Secret
Sat Humpty Dumpty on his wall. He toppled then, historic fall. Now Humpty Dumpty quakes in fear whenever he finds out I’m near. I came across him on that day and crouched by where he, broken, lay. Saw cupped in shell the chocolate cream, I rubbed my eyes. Was this a dream? Took out a spoon, with which to feast, approaching him as hungry beast. I ate until the cream was gone. I hadn’t been there very long before I heard the trod of feet. Act quick, I must, or face defeat. I cleaned out all the chocolate dregs, began to fill his shell with eggs. As I filled, a startled cry from lips escaped as men walked by. They gathered all to come around and view the oddity they found. Lips ringed with chocolate froth sat I, forming in my head a lie to cover up my heinous deed with which my innocence to plead. The king’s men charged in standing tall, asking all about his fall. When most shrank back, they looked at me. I had the sudden urge to flee. Frozen, rooted to the spot, my mind grasped but a single thought. “T’was not I,” I, stuttering, say, “I simply found him here this way!” Had Humpty eyes to roll, he would. He would object, if he but could. I prayed in pieces he would stay lest he should give my lie away… The soldier frowned, displeased, of course. He got an answer without force. He crouched close, surveying the scene. Now searching for some things to glean. He climbed up on the warm brick wall announcing there in drunken drawl, “Aw, he fell off ag’in, the twit! C’mon you guys, get on with it.” Try as they might, the king’s “great” men failed putting Humpty right again. He’s patched up, same as like before, but his mind’s gone, he’s sane no more. |
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Thank you Amulet.
E.E. Cummings poems are full of fragments and punctuation and his stuff is amazing. Poetry is highly experimental and I personally think my poem works the way it is. |
Gorgon's Lullaby
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