*
i was
your small room,
keeper of
sacred things
never spoken
until sleep evoked
burnt offerings
and i fell into
the ashes of your mouth
awakened,
i am
hollow,
bleached dry as
the lost rib
of adam
*
Author notes
edited
37 words
A contest entry
- white by Cat.
2200 points, ended December 9, 2008, 23 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
critical comments welcomed
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Boffo!
Damn, but there was some good stuff written hereabouts while I was away.
Absolutely arresting opening line.
Love the way you hang the ideas on the central metaphor.
Now I need to check the big winners of that contest.
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Incredible.
No critiques.
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Such a pale picture this provokes... congratulations on HM.
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love is a small room that can be the whole world -- until the world outside intrudes. if only we could all remain content with a small room. the bigger our world becomes the smaller our heart seems.
by the ashes in their mouth you will know them -- words burned down to meaninglessness.
this poem really got under my skin, i must admit.
as usual, i project so much of myself into these things -- which is the goal of the good poet.
Excellent.
Garrison
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this is very beautiful..
i fell into the ashes of your mouth
that image is wonderful, almost like a memory fading away or dream dissolving into day
great take on the contest theme
al
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i was
your small room,
keeper of
sacred things
never spoken
love that line... and the idea of emptiness in relationship to the very essence of our tie with man... the lost rib of adam- wonderful poetry
the only thing i would change is "of tongue"... i think it doesn't quite set right.. and the next line evokes the mouth anyhow- and with that i wouldn't parenthesis it.. but that is maybe just me?
i love this piece.. stunning really
m
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I edited this a bit, and I agree with you--the "of tongue" just didn't flow very well, and your suggestion made it much better. It really did read a little off before, I think.
Thank you for your gracious comment, and thank you for hosting this contest--I just loved the contest prompt, and I was afraid I might miss being a part of the community of the contest.
Saffron
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i was
your small room,
keeper of
sacred things
never spoken
(((i think we are this for someone- always... i wonder why we do this to ourselves- extension of selflessness that never gets reversed... the mention of sacred here leads me to a higher self, yet regretably so...almost like being too polite and knowing not to go there... if that makes any sense?)))
until sleep evoked
burnt offerings
of tongue
(and i fell into
the ashes of your mouth)
(((I couldnt help but feel almost like a sacrificial ritualistic burning at the stake, burnt offerings of tongue... words suck sometimes and sometimes it is just too late to bother but we still do--- and we fry for it sometimes....)))
awakened,
the room is
hollow,
bleached dry as
the lost rib
of adam
(((the thing i was hung up on was the mention of room again here at the end.. there is no need for it.
the ending packed its punch to me... almost like a final cleanse
there is a subtle under tone of anger to me in this - but maybe that is just me...
I am probably way off and well I usually go into someplace in myself when ever i read and you took me to a very interesting place that is for sure..
I loved your take on the prompt.
Thank you for this fantastic entry into our contest.)))
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Thank you very much for your very thoughtful critique and comment--I took your suggestion, and removed the second mention of room in the last stanza. I put it there originally as a reference to the first person speaking in the opening stanza, and I don't know if I really corrected anything or not, because in a way, it's still referencing it (the room)...
You really give the most wonderful and helpful comments--thank you again for that, and thank you for co-hosting this wonderful contest.
Saffron
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Very lovely. wonderful stark language. I have missed seeing new poems from you. You haven't lost your touch. BRAVO!
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i love this, i have been /working on/writing vignettes lately with small rooms connecting each one...so i love what you've done here. beautiful poetry...i love stanza 2, the word bleached leaves such a white picture in my mind.
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thank you, Tara
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