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December Moths

I dipped my hand
in a cold stream of lamplight
my hand came out
dripping with tiny wings

I held a flock of new friends
spotted brown and gray

Style / type: 
Free verse
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?
Editing stage: 

Comments

" i dipped my hand in a cold lamplights stream"

i like your word use.....right away i flip words about
language is so cool...like a search engine
picking enough code from its shape its feel
to fathom much....

moths are random around the light
i grew up in a thick boreal forest on a lake
in hills...each cottage the same each
bank of windows with a lamp at the peak
under the eaves

ghost moths
that light
when winters darkness superceeds
but that dance of thought
random eccentric
activity
that flutter
silent for the most part

snowflakes like wings
like petals of blossoms
soft delicate
a burial of purity
tossing light in the sun
a mute softness

i like the use of dipped
to describe reaching out
touching that ghost
that moment

of a duality of seasons

thank you

I really appreciate you reading and commenting. I enjoyed your interpretation.

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author comment

and welcome to the Neo.
A bit dark first post.It went over my head. Perhaps it's only me. Could it be due to different cultural backgrounds?
Anyway looking forward to reading more from your pen.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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If it helps, I was inspired by the phrase "stream of light". I wanted to play with that phrase and use imagery that went along with a stream of water. When you dip your hand in water, it comes out dripping wet. If you put your hand in a stream of light, though, it might only come out with moths on it, so I compared their fluttering wings with drops of water.

The poem is purposefully a little obscure, but I hope I can make it more clear when I make an addition or revision.

Thank you so much for reading and commenting.

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author comment

You take us on a flight of sensitivity but leave us in a space. It was good to read this one, however, I wish you would add more content to take the readers on the descent to alight on the essence of your write. Just sharing my thoughts. I liked the imagery you created...raj

raj (sublime_ocean)

Thank you for reading and your suggestions. I will definitely use them when I revise.

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author comment

I like Eskers word change, i think it helps your poem a little. I also like your thought process when constructing this poem. A heartfelt welcome to Neopoet, i look forward to reading more of your work. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

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

Thank you and I like Esker's idea too. I appreciate everyone's help with this!

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author comment

Welcome to Neopoet I hope that you enjoy your stay with us.
Your hand dipping into a cold stream of lamplight,
capturing the essence held there.
Reflections of life where you seek out friends,
and they gather around you,
dripping from your hands,
they have always been there,
all one has to do is reach out.
Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Thank you so much. You words mean a lot to me!

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author comment

Quite an evocative image captured here - it's power would increase many fold if you could lose the last two lines though and strengthen the first part - tiny for instance could go

I dipped my hand
in a stream of light
It came out dripping
with wings.

As an example.

Jimm

an even more array of interest...

like a character in life or book or movie
placed for impact

new friends
its like random in a world
that has its ends tidy
expected closure
in stead of the mystic impacts
of a turn a twist
that last line
before the heroinne boards
the train

before the hero
introduces the twin

so much

we are at a point of our history
where we look for more
we are hurting
the wars the aches
we always want more

prayer of suppositions
our music rising in octave
and speed these days
our epic movies

but there are the small
theatres for the people
still
raw and wonderful
including all that last
reveal

run the poem in reverse
and its

i have friends
brown and grey
i found them this
way
dipped from a
lightstream

etc

thank you..

until the last line.
spotted brown and gray
hmmm... it's so ordinary! Maybe that's the point, but brown and gray, like the colours an old man would wear.

Despite the title it evokes fairy folk to me
silvered, sussurating, slipping and eloping

No, that's just me and my fey ways. What I suspect you are attempting here is something more along the lines of ostranenie. Yes, ordinary brown and gray moths made into a poetic moment.

Here's a thought, and it's weird, but might just work, making up a word
spottling brown and gray

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

I definitely wanted the last line to be something like ostranenie. But at the same time I wanted to show the magic in the ordinary so that ordinary doesn't seem like such a bad thing. Does that make sense?

Thank you for the suggestion; I really love your word spottling, but I'll have to weigh my options. I'm not certain how important it is for me that that line remain simple/plain.

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author comment
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