Ozymandias

This one feels like lakeside, or cloudwatching reflections. You're a very thoughtful type, aren't you?

I like this. The direct message, and steady repetition make it feel like a march, or a chant being taken up by folk as they band together to help a neighbor... Sometimes unvarnished words can stir the strongest feelings. :>)

It's a bit cold, and very brown (except for the evergreen in the front yard that I now notice is dead center with my window). The wind is blowing gently, bringing that refreshing cold shock of ice water after a hot bath. There's almost no noise, which used to be typical, but now it's rare not to hear painfully poppy (yet catchy) R&B playing from the house facing us as he works on his engine, or washes his car, a car goign by every hour, random kids either laughing or talking loudly as they walk down the street, the regular speedfreaks taking advantage of our straightaway street that has no stop signs or lights... I keep half hoping those guys hit a car going 75 miles an hour- especially when they're racing their ATVs in a SUBURB. I haven't heard the other neighbor across the street's outdoor phone in awhile, come to think of it. It's one of those wring setups from years and years ago, before we had portables and cells that allowed you to work in the yard, or on the car, and still hear the phone ring. It's even a rotary phone, so it even has that half nostalgic reassurance of childhood noise that is slowly being swallowed by Keanu Reeves in The Matrix. The leaves move in waves beyond the other side of the street, then I hear their dry rustle Fall Kung Fu cinema. Heh. There's car guy! He's taking out his trash. His wife's name is Brenda, but I still only know him as "car guy". The sky's that cozy gray that makes me think of the end of the world approaching, a la The Neverending Story when I'm depressed, and of of down quilts, hot choclate with half-melted tiny marshmallows, and old movies when I'm happy. Mostly, though, it's very brown out there. Hey- three cars now! Rush hour...

Pickle, or no pickle, Tabasco, or no Tabasco, jelly, or no jelly, it's still bread, butter, and cheese, and all good. :>)

Men, always run after her. Always accept a free drink, unless the provider is trying not to laugh at the same time. Leave. Your. House. Never put "it" off until tomorrow unless you have to. Never punish yourself for putting "it" off when you have to. Mime.

a marionette pulls his own strings under the instruction of a famed director made from life of the earth he is a bit player and a star in this contradictory play with the director's guidance the strings never snarl the paint never chips the marionette likes it fine that way

To clarify: the dreaminess vs. solidity works very well for the poem, and you set it up in such a way that the two halves flow togther smoothly- don't change it!!! ...and you're very welcome. :>)

I don't know what you mean by "if the visual images are coming across by the way it is written", BUT... It reads like the stream of consciousness of someone thinking about times spent with their lover that all of the objects make them think about, with a strong feeling that the speasker is holding or looking at theese objects, and reminiscing, as their love is away, but not too far away; the mmemories come across as too fond and content for that (with no trace of unhappiness)- it seems like their significant other is away at work, maybe at some kind of family time, and will be back soon...perhaps they'll return in a long time, but the speaker stays happy, because he knows they still have their love, and they *will* be together again. It suggests all of that. Realistic? Well, love does funny things...that's hard to judge. Especially because I'm know to be just a leeeetle sappy when I shift into "I want to hug the WORLD!" mode,, so I know full well I'm not impartial, BUT... I can definitely say that the first four lines read as dreamy, and perhaps "teen movie", but the second four read as more concrete (that's what suggests the most that there's some tangible aspect, probably the items the speaker [thinker?] listed...since there was a list of tangible things and all. )

I think that I can tell what happened in this moment; not the perceptions, not fully- but I think I can tell what ity was you were doing, at least. The way you narrated all of these simple things any number of us might do every month, or every week, makes me want to just listen to your narration of life for hours, whether I understand your attitudes and definitions or not. Beautiful!

This looks terrific as it is- what more would you want in it?

Well, You've been with us sincs January, but had never applied...I'd thought you had decided you were comfortable with *not* being a member, thus, it was a pleasne surprise to see your application all of a sudden. As for time, well, it's been seven months, you're good people, you're a good writer, thus your application is only logical (to *me*, anyway. ), so that being the case, it's taken FAR too long to get you through the door! Don't think for a moment that that means that means having you as an Initiate is any less awesome. ^^ (YO! WYVERN!!! Where dat acceptance, yo???)

Kikuyu's eyes were not the only ones to catch Ozymandias' seemingly jovial twirling of his fingers as he continued conversations (and eating), but only her training translated that movement as being very, very precise. Before she had time to wonder what purpose the Loremaster had in mind, however, a shadow sat up ramrod straight next to her, peeling away from the ground. It made no sudden movements, so she did not respond with violence, and was soon glad she did not, as, after turning its featureless head to face her, it began folding its two-dimensional fingers at her in strange, but fluid sign language. The Ozymandias commands that I stay with you, and do as you command, was all it said, before laying its arms back down to its sides, and lying back across the grass.

Arriving on foot, robes swirling dramatically as is his custom, Ozymandias cordially greeted his hosts, introducing himself, as well as any denizens of the keep who had forgotten themsleves in the face of the magnificent spread (or who simply could not be understood by those best versed in human spech), and thankrf the brothers warmly for so grand a feast before proceeding to help himself to kielbasa and sauerkraut in open astonishment and pleasure. "How, my good men, is it that you got your hands on hot dogs and sausages? Let alone so many! The last I saw any such thing was in twenty-first century Earth, when I visited briefly a year ago, and I've never seen hot dogs here at all! If it's not prying, how did you manage it??" He finally paused his inquiries long enough to take a hearty bite of the sausage on a potato bun, and closed his eyes and smiled in culinary bliss.

Why, Sora! What a pleasant surprise!! (and about friggin' time, too. ) Excelsior!

Yay! Um, thank you!!

My great pleasure. ^____________________________________________________________________^

...forgotten how to kill someone? ...remembered how to put someone to sleep instead? ...found strength in being leaned on?

Ha! I like that. Because the first one chronologically sounds like the response to the questioning in the second chronological one.

Trying not to miss any of a TV show playing on a television one floor away from the spaghetti you are trying to prepare properly is great exercise. If you are not a trained cook, chances are your guesses at cooking times will be wrong. Keeping lists is a terrific memory aid- yes, even if it's just of things you want to write down.

I cannot write poems of love to save my life; you seem to have no such problem. If I may, though- why a pair of poems? The time lapsed between the two, and the continuous theme?

is it metaphor? A fairy tale? Both? I admit I'm not sure, but I like it very much either way. It reads like a passage from an epic; sad, and full of many stories.

I too, am on MySpace these days. if anyone wants to find me, just PM me, and I'll toss ya the info. :>)

Very clear, yet so evocative, it almost demands illustration.

Amazing. One of the most articulate descriptions of inarticulate feeling I've ever read.

Honesty will be met with hate and fear. If you want to make your eyes water, an easy way to do that is pull out your nose hairs by the clump. Remember well the wisdom of Rod Serling.