in a dark pocket
buried beneath
what accumulates over time
we rot slowly
unforgiven, forgotten
next to a dime that years ago
could call home
on a stormy night
and someone would answer
-i can still remember the number
but time changes, over-arranges
the furniture
and the key doesn't fit the lock
and we're not
what we used to be
we linger around
like lint that's collected
the particles of us
into balls of mistrust
and anger
and we can't see beyond
the fuzz and the dust
the madness
that has rusted us
like bitter lovers
the silence of
the unheard of
we empty our pockets
only to find
a dime that years go-
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
-
Oh. This is quite some poem that you have going on here.
It is very tight and concise and I could see you spent a lot of time on it to make sure that it flowed really well. And I think that even your readers don't remember when a call cost a dime they can understand the unverisal feelings of lonileness and nostagia. Lestways, that's what feelings I was picking up from this. I thought you did a good job of expressing yourself here.
-
I like this - very evocative. Some great lines but I have trouble with the last line. Should it be "ago" to mirror line 7? Or is there something I am not seeing here? If the intent is to mirror the earlier line, you might want to end with elipses instead of the short dash. Very well done. Buff
-
"but time changes, over-arranges", the stressing on the rhyming here feels like the line is being pulled to a halt, instead of flowing into "the furniture". Design or not, it sounds awkward in my opinion.
The running comparison and constant use of the royal "we" make the poem seem a little too narrow and generalised.
But what is one opinion amongst this sea of words?
: -
Love IT
the assonic rythmns create a harmonic with the heart.
Well played.
-
ah, the ruts
in which we do fall
the circling mongrels we,
what to do is fickle
if indeed the elusive tail
caught in mid-stride, finally
perhaps its the chase
and not the end
that makes us what we are
-
Very sad and archaic...I would say this piece made me feel hopelessness. But I feel that all of the time. Nobody likes to discuss infinity except when they're high..sometimes on only natural endorphins. Seeing actuality is very difficult. I see that here you dug into the concepts of what is you and what is beyond you. It's a hard concept which we have very little hope of swallowing. I'm glad you put something forward on the subject with your usual creative articulation.
-
Oh, this poem has such a sad ring to it! My eyes got all misty reading it and I wonder what you think as you pen these heartstring-plucking masterpieces. I truly admire your skill in your craft, you could make a living off inspiring people you know.
Adding your comment:
1 - 7 of 7
