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Open Poetry #15
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A Shovel Full of Nineteen
| Open Poetry #15 |
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A Shovel Full of Nineteen |
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SpitFire Member Elite
since 2000-04-19
Posts 2396
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She was a shovel full of nineteen, in a designer dress that tore. A painted sin across a table that held the hands of ancestors and fed hungry men for years. She was incredible in situations where light could pose a problem, where exposure could maim a face, under a street lamp, in a neighborhood well adjusted to the scent of yesterday’s promises. Her nails were wet, and she glittered against the fate of a terrified man. He was still searching for the certainty of actions, and she was just wishing he’d notice. She was a beauty queen and glowing. She’d forgotten how to refuse the sips offered and he questioned the presence of past. He talked to himself while she patted pink onto her fleshy cheeks and lifted her chest through the neck of her shirt. They shared cheap wine and cigarettes - and looks, while opinions lingered somewhere by the doorway in the back. And the smoke that crept, worked it’s way through her hair while she smiled, while he thought, there where they sat, in a house,...half empty on a hill. |
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| © Copyright 2001 SpitFire - All Rights Reserved | |||
catalinamoon
since 2000-06-03
Posts 9543The Shores of Alone |
Wow, awesome images, S. This is wonderful Sandra |
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Constance Member
since 2001-07-28
Posts 393Ohio |
Wow Spitfire, this is great! I love everything from the title to the last word--I can't say enough------------ |
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howpeculiar Member
since 2000-12-12
Posts 56 |
You know, sometimes poets are judged against their own work to a damaging degree. If I were to read this and think it was a verse by someone else? Probably jump out of my skin and still be clinging to the ceiling right now. Because it is written by you, I sit still, awed (as always), revisiting beloved lines and feeling them spread through me … but in the marveling hear the rumbles in the back of my head that say, "This is good, this is SO good, My god. … But she can write circles around this piece." … ~shaking head~ The poem: ~ She was incredible in situations where light could pose a problem, where exposure could maim a face, under a street lamp, in a neighborhood well adjusted to the scent of yesterday’s promises. She’d forgotten how to refuse the sips offered and lifted her chest through the neck of her shirt. ~ See most people find a way to write that takes one voice and puts it into new terms, or gives the reader a different perspective to the idea. With you, it seems you create entirely new ideas, and then cut the words up and paste them back on in forms that I barely recognize as the language I speak. DO you know that sensation? Reading and coming across a metaphor or conception that surprises you, that makes you stop and peer closer, letting the whole sink in until it covers you and you have to sit back, smile on your face, feeling the stirrings of savored delight and envy? Happens with you every time… as though your eyes are somehow separate from the rest of us, not seeing more, perhaps, but a leaking through of another dimension (if emotion were a physical thing, if vision were a whereness) covering what the rest of us perceive. Happens with Severn quite often as well (although hers are softer and hide themselves in-between craftings of language I know is mine), as though she shares our capacity for observation, but sees something else as well, something BEHIND. Anyway, whenever I finish ANYthing you write I feel as if I have witnessed, understood more … have felt a sensitivity to another plane…one which I recognize as my own, though I cannot reach it (as though I am shielding, submerged, and blinded by the very thing I wish to see). Sort of like time; it is my dimension, it encompasses all I know of life, but it is perfectly elusive… to continue this analogy because I lack any other way to describe: when you write, you allow me to touch time. Peace you, and hugs. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Seems that I keep posting replies today after either you or howpeculiar...and either way my mouth opens but nothing comes out because I feel like it's already been said. I mean that I really like the way you write...and this paint you put on this life was amazingly real. |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
She was a shovel full of nineteen, in a designer dress that tore. A painted sin across a table that held the hands of ancestors and fed hungry men for years. She was incredible in situations where light could pose a problem, where exposure could maim a face, under a street lamp, in a neighborhood well adjusted to the scent of yesterday’s promises. =================================== She was a beauty queen and glowing. She’d forgotten how to refuse the sips offered and he questioned the presence of past. ============================ They shared cheap wine and cigarettes - and looks, while opinions lingered somewhere by the doorway in the back. And the smoke that crept, worked it’s way through her hair ================================ You never cease to kick my poetic butt and blow me away with your imagery... just the first verse alone had more imagery in it than most 10 poems.... I felt like I was watching these two, you just picked up the reader and put them there, could smell the smoke... and the phrases you use...the way your poetic mind works "She was incredible in situations where light could pose a problem, sheesh.......how friggen cool is that?? WAY COOL!! SO are YOU... AWESOME write me girlie-girl  mewont you sing me your poetry |
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redheart angrybraids Member
since 2000-04-16
Posts 410honolulu, hawaii |
i loved this it was like a newspaper, for me, one who could never read the newspaper, black and white, and worn so quickly, Kindly, |
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Ethan Halo Senior Member
since 2000-04-28
Posts 793on the roof again |
this was so mighty.... i was hooked at the first line. what a description. this is one of those poems that make you say, no matter who you are, "i wish i could write like that." Everyone's got their demons. |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Enjoyed...James |
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Lone Wolf Member Ascendant
since 2000-03-16
Posts 5842Lansing, MI USA |
Nice to see you here, my friend. Wonderful descriptive write in this one. I enjoyed it much. You seem to write on a higher level then some, so much deeper and full of rich meaning. Great job! Take care, you.  All writing comes |
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RSWells Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533 |
19 held an addiction for me till 29. Newfound maturity rimmed by the vestiges of innocence fringed by lust, it caters to the libido of any man who's breathing its air and has memories I can almost smell even now. Enjoyed. "Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to decieve" |
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Dark Angel Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095 |
So profound your writing m'dear, I just want to jump in and swim and drink and drink and swim. You're amazing! Loved every single line and imagery. Maree |
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EagleOne Member Elite
since 2000-03-07
Posts 2829Between a laugh and a tear... |
Awesome! There you go, have me lost for words again. Take care!"Let me pierce the realm of glamour |
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Jeffrey Carter
since 2000-04-08
Posts 2367State of constant confusion! |
What can I say that hasn't already been said? I have grown accustomed to being "wowed" by your words. Although I don't always reply I am always reading. Never stop writing and wowing us with your unique gift. |
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Decaflame Senior Member
since 2001-05-11
Posts 1635 |
So much has been said of this remarkable piece that I will sound redundant if I even attempt to make a reply, but read it and understand it I did... what's more, what you have brought forth seems to have given every one else that has read this a new sense on what they, too, could find if they were but to turn over a rock in their own mind... well done, Poetess... |
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citizenx Member
since 2001-07-31
Posts 189motorcade |
HOLY SH…. Crackers this is amazing, F..crackering amazing. Spitfire, the way you paint the scene, language, everything, taking a n over told story twisting in around breathing volumes of new life in to it. Well all I can say is CRACKERS. Did I tell you I really like this one. shadows flicker sweet end tame |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
She was a shovel full of nineteen, in a designer dress that tore. A painted sin across a table that held the hands of ancestors and fed hungry men for years. She was incredible in situations where light could pose a problem, ============================ so many times I would read you and say I wish I had wrote this...but so few write like this.  |
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