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STAMP ME STARES AND HATEFUL LOVERS

I was thirsty and this ice was thick
forgive me
Ive not the strength to kick

and a wind combs my hair
for at the blue to blue my eyes
shall stare

For it was you whom in all
days strode in and tore
away the worry

mended me with a dare

Limestone quarries in milk lane
heat
the dance of cicada
the dirt on your feet

Belvederes over slim
cigars

behind the wheel
of the motorcar

The rain days sighed
and we smiled
all the while

in the shadows cats
fought and cried

and in the snows
between the burning
coal in a furnace heart
our love turned
bitter
and like the cinders
drew cold
and died
like the last cats litter

bowed heads of
flowers browned
with winters summer
bed turned down

I hear my voice in
hissing winds
the crystal moans
on sculpted barren
thrones
shone through
with light come
painful morn

and your love
burns like a sty
and your hate
chills me
nigh

Editing stage: 

Comments

As always your work and imagery are masterful I miss your work I miss the feelings that are envoked
from your words ... I have nothing but admiration

love n hugs Jayne-Chloe x

("Always and Forever") - (Never lose a holy curiosity.-Albert Einstein)

was reminded of summer
the light on a cold morning
a thought

the dew on the windsheilds on
nights and then the hot barrage
of a day unfolding

Im trying to wend stories with rhyme
something very difficult for me
and add detail too

Im getting there

Thanks Jayne!

author comment

as always this contains some fine imagery and expression but you need to write verse in a format the reader can follow, this is jagged, the line ending don't reflect the meter, short lines and abruptness is ok in free verse but in verse the rhyme scheme dictates the metre and vice versa and you have to stick to it.
EG
bowed heads of
flowers browned
with winters summer
bed turned down the metre and rhyme work well here

I hear my voice
in hissing winds
the crystal moans
on sculpted( barren) thrones but this leaves the reader without a rhyme scheme or a consistent metre

I like your work, especially the poems you post as comments, which often seem to me more spontaneous and successful than some of the poems you post.
A lot of my poet friends from f'book and myspace never write verse, I think that's a mistake, even if you concentrate on free verse, understanding how verse works and doing some yourself really helps one's ear.
Also it opens up the possibility of songwriting which always relies on metre and usually rhyme.
all the best
ross

I understand balance in it
and still I just throw it out there
caught between verse

as if there was something left
out or not added

like a sink running unattended
a cooking pot boiling all alone

I understand that it must follow
the dictated rules
accordingly set out

the greats I read as a child and young
man were easy looking but of course
were not
..
subject matter and dramatic invvention
subtle nuance etc all contribute

thank You for the help on this subject matter

I write verse on facebook and used to on myspace
a lot and other sites too for years

I get more critique here on this site though
then the others

author comment

just to make sure i didn't rush to judgement, I still think the metre is inconsistent, TSEliot in the Love song of Alfred j Prufrock interpersed metres but he did it in a consistent way that the reader could accept I think if you recitated this poem you would stumble. Still i take your point that you are well 'versed' I did get confused by litter, has 3 meanings to me, as 'Kitty Litter' is a brand name in Australia.
best wishes
ross

"cats last litter"..even as Kitty Litter tray..the last of is ominous
an ending denoted either way...Litter of kittens...pan of kitty crunchies
in plastic pooper scooper tray..etc

all of it is meant to be vague
like half heard
or half seen

we pilot through life some
people in arrogance or
fear like this

just fragments

I just use fragments
as I find it hard to understand
some things in life

told Im always overthinking things

No Im just an ordinary untrained poet
who read fairy tales after my parents
and sisters taught us to read

mostly in winter when it drew dark fast
rather then play till bedtime outside
in the light of the dying day

beneath the table lamp while the
snow winds howled

I just refuse to capitulate for the most
in our spoon fed world
the mystery of thought discovery gets
lost
imagination is sold off for capitalistic slavery

give me a flip book and a 6B pencil anyday

thank You!

author comment

Inspired!

The constant imposing of structure & consistent order over the freeform astounds me. I reject the imposition....listen to our words...let thoughts, words flow and flourish.

If you like solving mathematical puzzles...parse away...measure and quantify the meter. If it irritates that it doesn't 'flow' perfectly...stop critiquing freeform, concentrate on the classical western.

Personally, I feel my creativity is being attacked when a critique goes on & on about metre in the freeform format.

Freeform is ALLOWED to be inconsistent!

(Getting off the soap box now, waiting for the backlash....same old Neopoet)

'Betty'

better yet..the wenchs with their smiles

so typical male
oh sexist yes
I get slapped often and many a pearl
grows around my words
How I love the nascent anger
they grow
The Love and Hate sublime
and powerful

like pearl handled power

Sad to say Math is a blur in my mind
and yet it rings with its resonance
I want it to be an old friend but sadly
never shall the two shall meet...

Form and meter is like climbing stairs
in the dark..there must be a tempo
and flow or it will miss step and all shall
come down again
stumbling is quite apparent in works
without being honed
even I see that and read it

I am just lazy tis all
tis all

Mr Ekser

author comment
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