galindo1 Posted December 20, 2009 Report Posted December 20, 2009 (edited) Your body grows inside me, swift as a forest empty of sound, Like a lemon tree sprouting up from the ground Of my heart, self-contained and ready For the harvest, when with steady Hands they'll peel you open from root to tip. With gentle compliance you let those hands slip Over you: quilted blessings mesh against ear. The tree-leaves, belle feuille, work patterns on iron-black bristling hair, break shadows here And there; I'm tired and the workings of my heart Prove futile through the warm wash blending between us, my heart stunted from the start, In the swarthy caress of heat wave we slept together on the hillside Of my bed, lightning bugs on the windowsill And back again, but the floorboards were icy dead on my bare toes As I crept over the knolls and stains of yesteryear With your steady breathing rushing in my ear. Edited December 23, 2009 by Bouts_of_coughing
galindo1 Posted December 20, 2009 Author Report Posted December 20, 2009 You chair, there behind the table, You bide your time. At the start of the year You were a new friend, A weird but sturdy support For my ass. By end of first semester I hated you and your damn resistance. Why didn't you let me fall Every once in a while? You chair, you bastard, Blue plastic and unnatural like the taste of rubber. A red tongue and the tired sag Of an armchair, I miss that. Why can't you be that chair? Why can't you be my grandpa Or my brother? You stupid, goddamn chair. By second semester I wanted you. I wanted you in the trash heap. You're not a treacherous grapple Or a vicious hit Or a sexual friend. You're just a chair.
galindo1 Posted December 20, 2009 Author Report Posted December 20, 2009 (edited) Soup Brown, balmy Soothing, rolling, warming Bowl, potatoes – blade, wheel Shaving, melting, fattening Solid, yellow Cheese Edited December 20, 2009 by Bouts_of_coughing
galindo1 Posted December 20, 2009 Author Report Posted December 20, 2009 Have you ever kissed a chocolate kiss? The dark flood runs in your lips And forces open your mouth. Kiss a chocolate kiss; You’ll not regret it. Maybe in the future you’ll grow to hate, But never to lament, The night when you first Kissed.
Loki Wyrd Posted December 20, 2009 Report Posted December 20, 2009 (edited) You make me laugh. =) I particularly liked your first poem--though I didn't get any laughs from it. To show you how much I like it, I will make some recommendations... To begin with, the first line strikes me as out of place, or maybe incomplete. What is it that's swift as a forest empty of sound? I think that's what's confusing to me. Overall I feel you could use some work on your transitions, making sure there is a connection that can quickly be made so the mind can jump effortlessly as it reads. Let these hands slip Over you and quilted blessings mesh against your ear. ----- consider "Over you: quilted blessings mesh against ear." The tree is over my head, breaking shadows here ----- The tree is over my head--can you think of another way of phrasing this? And there; I'm tired and the workings of my heart Prove futile, stunted from the start. My only suggestion on the 3rd stanza is that I would like "hill" to be hillside, even though it makes the rhyme a bit more complex. Some of what I really like about this poem include your "quilted blessings," "stunted from the start," and your last two lines. You seem to have a knack for grabbing ahold of unique ways of phrase, continue to cultivate this and you'll do well. Edited December 20, 2009 by Loki Wyrd
galindo1 Posted December 20, 2009 Author Report Posted December 20, 2009 thank you, lord wyrd. i'm glad for you help in the poem and your acknowledgement of the brand of humour . . . ? thank you for the recommendations and i hope the revisions are to your liking. thanks again, and i'll see you around.
galindo1 Posted December 20, 2009 Author Report Posted December 20, 2009 In death mode Lights panic. Your heart speeds up a bit faster, Hairline filaments run out and down, Reinforcing failure. In recovery mode The itty bites run down the convex screen. The image jitters up and down As out of a memory of dancing. Out of a simple machine erupt Millions of bugs, jumpy legs All spidery against the thick darkness. In response mode Fingers touch with little jolts of energy. The keys spell names and words, Pouring out images and Crazy line breaks All shuddery against your face Like a cool wind.
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