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BESIDE YOUR LIMBS

As the moments rustle on
a leaf to one's footsteps marking time
the crumpled brown and red - how beautiful dead things are!

As conversations become breaths in between sentences
pauses developping into rightful silences
where one can close their eyes
letting birdsongs and windscapes
chatter for us.

You whisper silk words that my hands weave into a scarf
and slowly
I wrap it around my head...

Then it falls over my eyes!
I am a stumbling, drunken fool around you.

I fall down on the grass beside your limbs...

I fall down on the grass in the shade of an indesicive sun
the shade of your eyes that do not judge
that do not look to answer questions
others would ask of me.

No.

So I am an undisturbed pond,

and You are a swan, a monochrome swan
your neck folding down into my ripples
slowly fishing for something.

I hold you there
trying not to cuccoon you in waves or tides
trying not to trample you with the rains that fill me
until I leak and sometimes I'm so muddy.

You keep fishing.

I try not to guess whether your feathers are black or white -
for I am just a pond!
Feeling the weight of your beak
stroking the murky depths,

So I am here with you
you are here with me.

The time passes and neither of us look for a clock.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
A love poem I wrote for a friend a few months back.
Editing stage: 

Comments

This is good, but i think if you gave it some work, it could be great. Regards Roscoe...

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

I'd say I'm just beginning to edit this poem, so I agree it needs more work. You wouldn't be able to specify exactly what you think needs work, would you?

Thanks,
Liam

author comment

These are some suggestions for you to look at, please let me know what you think. Regards Roscoe..

As the moments rustle on
a leaf to one’s footsteps marking time
(crumpled brown and read, how beautiful dead things are. )

(Conversation becomes breaths in between sentences
pauses developing into rightful silence)
where one can close their eyes
(letting birdsong and windshake chatter for us.)

(You whisper silken words that my hands weave into a scarf,
slowly)
I wrap it around my head.

(As it falls over my eyes!)
I am a stumbling, drunken fool around you.

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

Yes! What pleasure I get when someone can tell me the little corrections I need to make my words glimmer. All my appreciation, and thankyou indeed.

author comment

The metaphors throughout are a bit bewitching. It is a dark ride.
Now, because I do this... you might want to check the spelling on these three words.
developping (developing)
indesicive (indecisive)
cuccoon (cocoon)

I always make it a point to stress proofreading. A poet needs to present only that which is exactly what he/she intended.
My particular favorite is the imagery created with the silk scarf.
Unabashed commercial interruption: Stan (Scribbler) is getting ready to start a workshop on imagery. I think you might enjoy it and I know everyone would benefit from your "knack" with it.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

I hope that is in some way comical though. I'll edit in those when I get a second.

I'll keep an eye out for the imagery workshop too - there isn't a link you could give me to it or something alike?

Liam

author comment

Go to "tools" on the action bar at the top, then select "track all site activity". You'll find his blog listed a little way down. It's not the actual syllabus, but he's getting ready. Let him know you are interested. I'll be joining the shop also. I don't have trouble with mechanics, but imagery... well.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

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