In a distorted loophole in time
The knife that stabs gives me wings
A breath, bloated with
Nostalgia
Echoing the rabid psycho horror
Stills the desire to burst.
The downward spiral
Glued memories to the cavern
Which we refer to as
The mind
Bombarded with psychological stimuli
There is not room for
Thought
The chattering of teeth
Of inflamed evenings
Crawls beneath morning skin
A faint sigh painting a stroke of white
In the ephemeral nature
The tears of seasons
Overflowed without heartbreak severance
From the gently laughing sky
The memory of a transient dream
And the faint light calls me awake
We wither
As slowing as the flowers by the window
Our decay spreading
The cicadas that sing
With whispers encased behind sliding doors
Our summer is trapped in
The hands of yesterday.
Author notes
*sigh* I really wanted to write something better for this contest...but it's just not coming. I apologize that you have to settle for this crap.
Written April 10th, 2006
A contest entry
- dear. we must eat the liver. sweet as june. we must. dear. by jaunty pill.
300 points, ended June 20, 2006, 52 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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Hey there.
If this is crap than I must be the worst reader on the planet. Cause I found your hints of nostalgia in this particular piece mind-numbing. The 2nd stanza and the last stanza are the finest points of the poem. Your imagery throughout is quiet , Passive , Almost destroyed by time and think it is remarkable.
If I remember correctly the first poem I read by you made me gasp...It was a piece futher back in your collection and I wish to hell I could remember the name. When I come across it again I will IM you. Anyways , There were some of those same feelings I left with found right here. Especially when I read the " white " line at the beginning of the fourth stanza. What a powerful use of language.
I felt a lot of strange desolation also in this poem , I can't put my finger on why , Something about the format , The way in which you moved...Almost like you are blinking. The images , Like I stated above , Are so gentle , And yet , There is no point where the poem is warm. When you think about it there are words that should not sound so beautiful , But in the context you've chosen them , There is a tad bit of wonder. Take the word " decaying "...Not a soft or kind word. Of course , With your skill , You actually made darker imagery in this piece one of the focus points , Without making it cliche.
I am reminded of a time in my youth strangely after reading this. All I could think about was a large orchard that my great grandfather had when I was little...I went down there one summer and got lost in the woods. The only reason I found my way out is because I smelled the apples rotting in the sun.
Little things like that have always struck me as a true artist. You were able to take me somewhere and for that , I am forever grateful.
This is very good and you should not be so hard on yourself. I think your work is a bright light to my everyday reading experience , No matter how often the dark in your work prevails.
Really stunning entry.
Thanks for this and good luck in my contest ,
James
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Nice. I like it. It's not crap.
Good luck!! -
Wonderbread
Love this chief. Totemo tsuki desu nee! Hah. Well, it's has indeed been awhile since you have written anything, I'm glad you got over your block. Ending is my fave, it hella brought everything together. Great job overall ^ ^
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