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p a l l i s a d e . . . . d a r c e . . . .

haunted rotations
the nail hum

a moon lifeless and pale
floats in the frozen field
of stars

like icebergs
and orphaned


a dorm room phone rings
a handset lifting
and your voice
sweet and full of sleep
says Hello

Editing stage: 


the nail hum, this is obscure, especially as nail has 2 meanings, although I think a bit of mystery in a poem is ok

don't think you need 'alone'
liked the rest,

all the best

Obscure yes... a partial imprint blurry of memory
The fingernail for dialing the old rotary handset
I didnt just rely on my fingertip but like the feel
of my thin nail on the plastic surface beneath
to draw the clear wheel about for the numerical
sequence...Often with operator assistance
The comforting Hum of the phone like Pavlovs
anticipation response

And the Nail as a device for securing
"hanging on the telephone"
the coathook crude for the coats and hats
one wears in life..and in relationships
near and far


is the linke
the bridge mid span
that transference of thought

I like that its both and ending
and a beginning

"Orphaned alone"

and "Alone, a dorm phone rings"
giving way to the fact that it is night
and rarer then the day to be ringing
with all the others in the busy business
of life weekday or weekend as this
is although its not really suggested

It was winter
I watched the night beyond the kitchen
window..the cold river below the sloped
lawn of my mother and step fathers house
I sat..the dark trees and then the
distant feild and large glacial rounded
hills two miles away..and the stars
No great city nearby or town in the view

my old
flame I would call up
or she to I

the phone was pink
the tiles white and baby blue
in our kitchen
The house was built in the fifties
and the girl was in residence at
Glendon an old mansion in Toronto
Ontario Canada on a donated estate
to Sheridan College on the ravine
A place called the Bridal path nearby
for mansions built during the turn of
the century....The grounds were beautiful

We are still in touch
and it was this time of year that we met
for a week and less

Thank You for your observant comments
and critiques and suggestions

author comment

your return comments are often like a second poem that segues into the official version, I just got castigated on the Alsop Review for being too obscure, they're a lot more critical there but seem to me obtuse and always wanting more explanation, not prepared to let the poem work on them, I guess that's as much the medium's fault, we expect Wikipedia or some such to instantly answer our question and this expectation is translated to poetry forums, I also think longer poems work less well on the net because it harder to see the whole poem in front of you as you would in a book. I also think, despite the fact that forum's are 'workshops' that its a danger to too quickly adjust one's work to the forums crits, as with my crit of this poem, my response is what, after 2 minutes reading your poem, its not a considered response really, and none of us has the time to do that, nature of the beast, but still its wonderful that we can share our work instantly, I remember the days when you'd wait weeks to hear about a poetry submission and to get anywhere you had to go to gatherings and readings and network with magazine editors to ever have a hope of getting published. I gave up on it after getting a few things published in the early 70's . Much better now even if there's new problems.

I purposefully write obtuse poetry
In ORGAMI back on archives on old Neopoet
I did have more flavour to my works
and perhaps more popular then...

I just write...I know there is going to be a flow
come from this one day that will skip like a stone
instead of tumbling and then sinking
a wavelength.. for now its what is

The old ones had to re write their works many times
and then got critical backlash severe
But the moved words in their poems for months
and months sometimes before it was accepted
in then the mainstream magazines post war
America Fifties...highway sixty six bright lights

constellations soaring overhead

They gathered then for poetry readings
a more raw movement
technology has lessened the haste to
gather in situ for performance sometimes
its all esoteric and far away

This does not lessen creativity
and allows multitudes of people that
would otherwise Hit the big times
and move to the bright lights to write

Now one just has to scrounge up
some internet and an old computer
and cable or wireless and away
one goes

If I tuck that loose end away
the "Alone" part it may make it
more acceptable and streamlined
The old poets did to get published
because they wanted the money
They had families to provide for
uprgrading was still an art that
was devoid of the instantaneous
of Ballmart etc

People gathered more to communicate
which lead to spontaneous talks music
and poems....Now we slip all this in between
laundry and floor mopping and dog walking
working and going to the mall for Comet
and Milk like I did already....

They would die for this in the fifties
but every time has its hurdles
its quips and quarks

I shall never publish...I am more then content
to be raw and oozing here
I do have a competitive spirit
and can clean these works up
etc....I rather like this
all of it

Thank You Ross!

(and again...Thank You Neopoet!)

author comment

I've read this piece a few times now, liked it the first time
but didn't understand it until you explained. The only thing
I could suggest is to make it understood it is a look back,
love the "nail hum" .... strangely I miss the dial phones too.

those things were around since the thirties or earlier
Solid state is faster
like In 911 emergencies
and quieter..
Cant use cell phones with rotary
and in todays world silence is stealth
which is a good thing at times

I put Nail....It meant much
In my family my mum had nails
strong ones and a bit of an edge
on them and painted them red
She worked as a nurse assistant
and was a good one too.. She
would take us on walks to talk to
some patients to cheer them up
And she would tap her nails on
things to make a point

We knew they were claws that
she was the dragon to be wary of
and to love of course

and My dad would sit at the table
to music in the morning listening
to his radio in the kitchen
and he would be able to flip a
nail on his wedding band and make
a noise with it...His hands were
calloused and his fingers strong
He was just a little five foot fellow
but quite capable

I still like the Hum of the telephone
and the static on the television
for me these are voices of the electronic
life...the pre cursor to connection
and the old rotaries gave us time to
think of what to say to Bosses
to ask a date.. to say goodbye
call up a friend... Or take time to read
the graffitti or look out a window
light a smoke (the old days)

if you missed a number one had to
start all over again
or a wrong number and there goes
the change...

I like the new phones and devices
today...They helped to show how
the world is without the news media
constructing a viewpoint
such as Syria etc

Texting is just another form of words
like cuniform once was
it is neither bad for language
or good
it just is

I know many smart people who cannot
read still in this day of age
but can communicate well with language
knowing words without the spelling issue

texting is speed code only

It would be like saying shorthand would
be bringing down the human language
and that form of expression is going too
like Latin

Must get going to work now
Enjoy hearing from you Richard

Mr Esker~!

author comment
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