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lost receipts

she believes in sleepless nights on city streets
blue lights, blood, the sound of moving cars;
oxygen gulps, lipstick, lost receipts-
a chemical link between reasoning and bars.

she believes the world is thriving on addiction
not weed, nor need of knowing what you weigh.
she holds that no one thinks with a conviction
but the atomic bonds of mirrors that lead astray.

she believes in cosmic kissing far from love,
the chaos of kaleidoscopes and moon-
a scientifical theory de-void of
a code of dna that's not immune.

she believes graffiti builds its own biology-
a colorful mess of all describing life.
'no doctor truly understands psychology'
her brain's a complex dopamine and knife

questioning beyond scientific measures,
no experiment determines sex from, 'why,
everyone's obsessed' she says, 'with pleasures.
tell me that it’s false, my favourite lie.'

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?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Editing stage: 

Comments

like the girl you describe. "Lost Receipts" is a good title for this poem, I thought it fit because she seems to have lost the ability to make reasonable connections. Your pattern and rhythm are very good. Nice! Welcome to Neopoet ~ Geezer.
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I pondered some time on the title, so I'm delighted you too think it apt.

author comment

never had the mothers who sat quiet in their posts
more like guards and way scale inspectors
the bright surrogates i drove for
opera and cbc,,,travel madcap
with thermos of black coffee
and a cooler of the best deli meats
and bread

they say girls pick their fathers
and sons pick their mothers
and I admit I picked my madcap
mother with all my women
still trying to fathom them
sea sirens...fiery tempest
alluring mermaids
warrior women

love hate....but they could
love...all leaving their mark

this is the most explicit explanation
poem in ages that I have read
from my male perspective on
how I view them..

they like me cause im tall
being broke with a mad mind
rebel hair beard..masculine
dressware...dont give a fuck
attitude but with the charm
and articulation
what im missing is that whole
out run at life
which they solve

rebel rousers...nothing else
like it....

thank U for this wonderfuly scribed
poem

Mr Wolf!

And pleased to meet you.

author comment

12 lines
four paras
and
last two lines in tow
14 in all
well done though
maiden neopoet thou

Thank you for reading Lovedly.

author comment

Good imagery, nice rhythm, until the last verse, which I find a little stuttery an choppy, out of place with the rest of the poem in terms of flow and cadence, although the meaning's there.
Welcome to Neopoet.

Oh, its the first line of the last verse - it lacks emotion, and doesn't flow with the rest.

Respectfully, Jim

"Laws and Rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" - Race-9togo

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Race_9togo

Thank you so much for your comment.

author comment

does your opinion differ, and why?

Respectfully, Jim

"Laws and Rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" - Race-9togo

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Race_9togo

It reads perfectly to me. Maybe you didn't realise the last two stanzas run on. I have no idea, but it is no problem. Thank you.

author comment

If it helps, here is one way the last part could be read (pause at the line breaks):
 
'no doctor truly understands psychology'
her brain's a complex dopamine and knife questioning
beyond scientific measures,
no experiment determines sex from,
 'why, everyone's obsessed' she says, 'with pleasures. 
tell me that it’s false, my favourite lie.'
 
With that reading, the words "and knife questioning" seems like it is supposed to be describing her brain the same way "complex dopamine" is. Is her brain a complex dopamine knife of questioning? Maybe. Maybe not. With these imagined pauses, "determines sex from" also seems choppy, Determine sex from what? Hugging? Kissing? Sleeping? That is the impression that is made, especially with the comma after "from" and this could have been something like how Jim read it. 
 
On the other hand, if we view the last stanza as being on it's own, then we might read it like this (again, pause at the line breaks):
 
questioning beyond scientific measures, no experiment determines sex from,
'why, everyone's obsessed' she says, 'with pleasures. tell me that
 it’s false, my favourite lie.'
 
Still, I feel like something is missing after "from." Is the stanza saying that no experiment can differentiate between the act of sex itself and why we are obsessed with the idea it? If that's the case, then Jim may be stumbling over that the fact that it's dialog and there is no parallel structure. Instead of writing "determines sex from why everyone's obsessed with the idea of it", which would be parallel because we have the noun "sex" and the noun string "why everyone's obsessed...", separated by a conjunction (and), there is a noun and then a piece of dialog (not parallel). Parallelism really helps a lot when you've got complex ideas like in this poem or if you are listing a lot of items in prose. Learn more here: http://www.grammar.net/parallel-structure
 
Hope this helps. I don't want this to become a quabble. Everyone reads differently and interprets pauses in poetry differently, so I think it is a matter of uniqueness in every reader and writer; it's something to collaborate on and explore, not argue over, because the English language is vast and there isn't one right or wrong answer.
 
Take care,
Kelsey

Advocates Coordinator

Critique, don't comment.

To see our learning resources, click the "Curated Resources" link under the Resources tab in the top menu bar.

www.kelsey-burroughs.weebly.com

it is most welcomed, and helpful.

author comment

too much attention at an individual level is one of the early signs of burn out. You just can't do it, you are merely human.
Everything you say is nigh on perfect, but do you have some sort of megalomanic idea you can do it for every worthy poet?
With few exceptions everyone on Neopoet is a worthy poet. There are only 24 hours in a day as much as you would love to be Santa Claus to everyone, every day.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

I hope that making fewer comments but comments of more substance will be manageable. Everyone else gives plenty of brief comments to everyone else, in my experience. So I like to try to give longer comments when I can, especially when I feel like it may be appreciated by the writer and the other commenters. I comment on less than one poem a day, on average, so I think I am okay for now.

Thank you for looking out for me. I will definitely dial back the level of feedback if I get overwhelmed.

Kelsey

Advocates Coordinator

Critique, don't comment.

To see our learning resources, click the "Curated Resources" link under the Resources tab in the top menu bar.

www.kelsey-burroughs.weebly.com

I love meeting people smarter and more articulate than me. Really I do, partly because it is not that frequent, and I need the humility, but mostly because it is elegant eloquence in itself.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

read the last two stanzas again, I think it works.

Welcome to Neopoet, Gunnar, an impressive first write.

I'm not going to give you my interpretation of it because I suspect it might be very different from yours, which makes neither wrong. I just love the language and the way people mix science with reflexive interpretations.

Got to laugh at Love's comment about the sonnet and yours on a haiku. How about a limerick?

A young lady sleepless on streets
performs cosmetical chemical feats
to thrive on addiction
requires conviction
and quite clever dopamine treats

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

And have taken time to consider with your commentary. And your Limerick is a bonus! Thank you Jess.

author comment

Welcome to the site, what a great
first submission. The read aloud was
delicious to me and the added science
references made me wiggle ... thanks!

looking forward to more,

Richard

and for the delicious comment. I am much pleased.

author comment

Like Richard take pleasure in reading poems out loud. It helps me to get a better take on how the words flow together as well as aiding me in forming my thoughts on what i've read. While hearing the words I began to form images in my mind of this woman.
She's a woman with her own take on life
Possibly influenced by what she endured in her past
Her reality has created a world filled with doubts towards others and scientific explanations hold no meaning
just a few thoughts i decide to share
The lines, 'she believes in cosmic kissing far from love, the chaos of kaleidoscopes and moon.....' and 'she believes graffiti builds it's own biology, a colorful mess of all describing life....' definitely caught my attention. If you ask why, I'm guessing with the way things are right now for me, I found them easy to relate to and well said.
Long story short, I very much enjoyed the read!

val

ps my curiosity led me to read Jess' limerick...i'd say he did good....LOL!

i am much obliged for you in-depth review. thank you again.

author comment

I suspect the pronunciation is a British thing, as a Scot I read it as you do.
Anyway, your mention of scientific measures reminded me of this old thing:

At The Tartan Bonnet

At the Tartan Bonnet
next to the Smithy’s stall,
a picture labelled monster
is hanging on the wall.

The photograph is fuzzy,
looks like a bunch of tyres,
held to a piece of deadwood
by nails and string, or wires.

The locals say that tourists
are gullible, rich fools,
that no sign has been noted
by scientific tools.

The view over the water
is really rather good;
another compensation
is finest ale and food.

But of a Friday evening,
a face at the back door;
she sups her twenty gallons
and swims away once more.

Keith Logan
the happy chappy
https://www.neopoet.com/community-guidelines

Thank you,

g

author comment

of a famous Scottish poet, Hamish McSquib,
and his most notable piece, Snake:

ya canna hiss nae more wee snake
nae wiggle ya fork-ed tongue
cos i ripped awa’ ya innards
inclu’in ya wheezy lung.

nae more will ya be a-slitherin’
nae bitin’ me agin,
an’ i’m awa’ to git some whisky
ba tradin’ in ya skin.’

thank you.

author comment

uisge beatha "whisky," literally "water of life,"
A pure malt is my favourite tipple.

Keith Logan
the happy chappy
https://www.neopoet.com/community-guidelines

Deft, practised, eager,
your fingers twist the metal cap.
Late into the moth-infested night
we listen to soft scrapings
of bottle-top on ridged glass.

The plash and glug of amber liquid
streaming into tumblers, inches deep.
Life-water. Fire-tanged
hard stuff. Gallons of it,
sipped and swigged and swallowed.

Whiskey: its terse vowels belie
the slow fuddling and mellowing,
our guttural speech slurring
into warm, thick blather,
the pie-eyed, slug-witted slump

into soused oblivion -
and the awakening. I long
for pure, cold water as the pump
creaks in the yard. A bucket
clatters to the ground. Is agony.

By Wendy Cope

g

author comment
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