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Open Poetry #12
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NerudaStar
New Member
since 2001-02-09
Posts 5
California, USA

0 posted 2001-02-10 10:21 PM


My hands are always
cold
Icy digits
That feel no
warmth
No sun or fire
to generate
heat
in my palms
to thaw fingertips
the enigma
    remains the same
The question
    shivers
And is frozen
suspended in petrified blue
unsure if summer
will arive
with freedom
to ask
Who is my
furnace?

© Copyright 2001 Laura - All Rights Reserved
Poeminister
Senior Member
since 2000-02-26
Posts 1862
Regina SK; Canada
1 posted 2001-02-10 10:30 PM


I know that feeling.  Nicely expressed.

Poeminister

Sven
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Laureate
since 1999-11-23
Posts 14937
East Lansing, MI USA
2 posted 2001-02-10 11:08 PM


"Who is my furnace?"

I love this line. . . it's perfect. . .

excellent. . .  

----------------------------------------------------------

To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world.

NerudaStar
New Member
since 2001-02-09
Posts 5
California, USA
3 posted 2001-02-11 12:38 PM


Thank you for your replies. I'm glad that you can relate to my expressions.
Severn
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704

4 posted 2001-02-11 12:33 PM


I like this Neruda...

this part especially:

the enigma
    remains the same
The question
    shivers
And is frozen
suspended in petrified blue

However, I have a suggestion - the flow of the piece is such that the capitals at the beginning of the line make the piece a little awkward. Have you thought about trying it with no capitals at all? Except for on the first line?

Thanks for the read.

K


- it was not an
unmusical sound: long, falling, half a sigh,
like wind in the wires, or a train distancing.

From The Muse of Distance, A. William

Dark Angel
Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095

5 posted 2001-03-11 06:20 AM


Hey I love this, and these lines, wow! what imagery.....

The question
shivers
And is frozen
suspended in petrified blue.

I have to agree with Severn about the capitals.


Maree


I may know the word but not say it
I may know the truth but not face it
I may hear a sound a whisper sacred and profound
but turn my head indifferent.

Natalie Merchant


[This message has been edited by Dark Angel (edited 03-11-2001).]

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