I guess I'll lay back
think about Katy for awhile,
and days past;
these dreams
that float up the valley
are just a mist to me.
Lisa says,
"I saw you on the Mississippi Queen.
The porter said
you gambled your heart away."
My slippers
are my dancing shoes,
and I'm dancing in the fire.
I don't know about you,
the mist is cold.
I'll think about Katy for awhile
and days past;
how the paddle struck the surface,
and the water churned.
Author notes
Written January 3rd, 2004
In a list
What did you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
-
hibiscus and bougainville wafts..despite the cold mist.
-
Cold mists, are subtle as butterfly kisses sometimes.
Perhaps the heart is all there is left to gamble with?
All you can do afterall is put it on red and hope! -
there is a grimy feel to this...like you're stuck in quicksand sinking, and all you can do is play reruns of shows that you probably really shouldn't be watching, or shouldn't care to watch.
dwelling isn't always fun
Nyx... -
Lisa says,
"I saw you on the Mississippi Queen.
The porter said
you gambled your heart away."
My slippers
are my dancing shoes,
and I'm dancing in the fire.~ this is my favorite part in your poem. This is a new exciting style. More fresh than your work when I first came here! Ilove it!LOL
~Daina 
-
very good
these dreams are just a mist to me
the mist is cold.
I had never considered dreams as warm or cold. Something new to think about.
I found this very well written. Besides it is a good song.
John -
Proud Mary burned you, did she? Ok, ok, BAD joke and I am sorry. Been a long time since I visited Lute and I am sorry for that, too.
You have written a poem that churned me like the Mississippi. It is really stunning in its brevity and subtle sadness and what I see as a bit of regret. Good un. Me likes. Yump. -
I've only ever REALLY seen the Mississippi River once... huh ... that's kind of sad. Anyway, why you gambling away love, seems kind of a silly thing to bet with. Didn't you have any socks you could have put up as collateral instead? Odd.
---- Cause I have them and I want to give them to you.
-
"My slippers
are my dancing shoes,
and I'm dancing in the fire"
The costumes you wear Lute.
The faces in the mist, the way they haunt you. I don't know how these characters relate to you, but they make waves in the surface of your calm waters, and this comes across so strongly in the piece...the paddles churning.
-
First time I read it, it kind of just passed over me. But I decided to give it one more chance.. and oh
I think have to agree with RollingStone.
Cold mist sometimes comforts.
~Scarlet -
can't tell you how much I like this poem. I'm flying to new orleans next friday, a city I have visited many many times, and there is an old riverboat there, the mississippi queen, which I have ridden on. don't know if its the same one you mention in this poem, but I've watched its paddles strike the water and churn and I've stood on its deck and thought of mark twain, even pretended to be him. now the queen is a stationary floating casino, goes no where. life changes and churns, dreams grow cold like mist. I've gambled my heart away too, perhaps one time too many.
can't tell you how much I like this poem, what it stirred in me. thank you, lute. thank you. -
hmmmmm, the worm is rather nasty to you as well - you know what that means
(get in there) 
i love it lots when there are girls names in poems
-
Mississippi Queen??? Why do I want to flutter my eyelashes? Never leave Lisa ... she is your anchor on this stream
And by the way: give that porter more to gossip about, Poet ... If his surname is Gates, you'll know what to do ...
Never trust any bill ... if you cannot pay ...
-
Look, enough's enough: give me some more Pound-esque pretentiousnesses to be snide about. This is very song-like, especially towards the end, thus, very much up the Worm's alley, and, therefore, will not do at all.
What sort of a Poet are you if you can't Alienate your critics?
Oh, and happy 2004, by the way ....
-
Sometimes only memory will do...
-
excellent
Tell Lisa to tell the porter to mind his own damned business.
I especially like the last stanza. Only a poet would notice how the paddle strikes the surface and the water churns. I'd be trying to win my heart back.
Desiree
Adding your comment:
1 - 15 of 15
