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Open Poetry #25
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Martie
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0 posted 2003-03-04 09:20 PM


Questioning the Sunset


Can't see the place can you
where you buried the sun
between number one palm
and all the hues of red

that is why I wear purple for you
and these dragonflies of ear art  
dart if I turn my head to tra la la
into the pewter air of dull day the metal
is like a dream you're not sure you had
and they are all the same from your vantage
each like a shoe kicking sticks down the alley
who can tell the tree it lost precious limbs
now gone to under the rose bush
who can break this leaf then or tell me
why it is so important to cry
for tender lost things like you and I

It is so simple yet to explain
is oil on water with rainbows and the reflection
of something jaded and untrue but so beautiful
like an opal stirred magic on cement
trying hard to be heaven bent but falling
failing to light the sky and only opening one small
questioning of my wandering eye


© Copyright 2003 Martie Odell Ingebretsen - All Rights Reserved
Phantom Poet
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1 posted 2003-03-04 09:22 PM


nice write
>>phantom poet<<<

Ratleader
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2 posted 2003-03-04 09:31 PM


Uh-oh, Martie's been reading Ratleader's cubist deisiderata again.....and this time a little of it rubbed off........

Careful, it might become permanent, like crossing your eyes at the hyperbrat across the aisle during Social Studies......

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Ratleader
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3 posted 2003-03-04 09:43 PM


Ratleader wanders away stunned, then comes back and posts advice for other readers:

Don't read this like an ordinary poem. Martie is speaking in internal, personal symbols here -- the kind of dream material that may be universal but is hard to interpret even when it comes to your own dreams..... Best is to absorb it without attempting any interpretation -- just let it pour through you and watch what it evokes on the way.

That's the "meaning" here, and the symbolism. It's right down deep where it's hard to understand, but impossible not to feel.

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BluesSerenade
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By the Seaside
4 posted 2003-03-04 10:08 PM


Martie, I agree, it's right down deep
and plenty good to feel.

Your poetry surmounts the glorious word.

hugs for you~

garysgirl
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5 posted 2003-03-04 10:22 PM


Martie, I also read, didn't understand completely, but it felt wonderful way down deep while I was reading it. Does that make sense?

Heart Hugs,
Ethel

Martie
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6 posted 2003-03-04 10:26 PM


Thank you, my friend Ed, for seeing and Lorie and Ethel, I appreciate you trying to go where I was.  Just trying to write a feeling that I got after reading Ratleaders poem, Trilobite ..and some feelings are hard to write.   you all!!!!
Ratleader
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7 posted 2003-03-04 10:41 PM


Ah, I was afraid you might have gotten too close to "Fading" down there in the stacks of this forum.....you'll probably recover from a Trilo- bite.......

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Janet Marie
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8 posted 2003-03-04 11:07 PM


that is why I wear purple for you
and these dragonflies of ear art  
dart if I turn my head to tra la la
into the pewter air of dull day the metal
is like a dream you're not sure you had
and they are all the same from your vantage
===================================
who can break this leaf then or tell me
why it is so important to cry
for tender lost things like you and I

It is so simple yet to explain
is oil on water with rainbows and the reflection
of something jaded and untrue but so beautiful
like an opal stirred magic on cement
trying hard to be heaven bent but falling
failing to light the sky and only opening one small
questioning of my wandering eye

=========================================


whoa...I'll have some of what youre having
this is sooooooo coooool...so cryptic and surreal. what a heady mix of imagery, symbolism and personification...that last verse is like a tie die burst of color.
very very cool...one of those writes that we dont need to know what it means to enjoy its abstract grace.

How long have I been dreaming I could make it right ...
If I closed my eyes and tried with all my might
To be the one you need...

J. Browne

Greeneyes
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In Your Poetic Mind
9 posted 2003-03-05 12:19 PM


MArtie~

this is so very lovely and touching...


Lauren~

Take me where the tides start
So I can pull you into me

majnu
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10 posted 2003-03-05 12:32 PM


your maddening images are a jungian dreemworld. quite cool.

-majnu
--------------------------------------
Timid thoughts be not afraid. I am a Poet.

TaureauRouge
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A mass of land between two oceans
11 posted 2003-03-05 02:05 AM


"between number one palm
and all the hues of red"

What an incredible thought

"I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling over the floors of silent seas"-T.S. Eliot

passing shadows
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displaced
12 posted 2003-03-05 02:52 AM


mouth hanging open in poetic awe
Sunshine
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Listening to every heart
13 posted 2003-03-05 06:40 AM




Each line
pauses the heart
to listen,
to see...

this!  is your magic!

[This message has been edited by Sunshine (03-05-2003 06:45 AM).]

Marge Tindal
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14 posted 2003-03-05 11:36 AM


MartiSis~

'so simple yet to explain
is oil on water with rainbows and the reflection
of something jaded and untrue but so beautiful
like an opal stirred magic on cement'


You inspire on a moment of word-turning~
Awesome my lady .... awesome~
*Huglets*
~*Marge*~

~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~
noles1@totcon.com                        

Cpat Hair
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15 posted 2003-03-05 11:53 AM


and you know... the beauty of your words touches us all...

always a pleasure my friend.. always a treat

Mistletoe Angel
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16 posted 2003-03-06 12:23 PM




(smiles) Oh Martie, your words truly are opaline, sweet friend, they may not always be transparent but that is the true beauty of art, it is meant to be mysterious and there's so much to see in your words that make it so magical! (kiss on cheek) God Bless You, sweet friend, I love this, we all love you so much! You have such a beautiful heart, sweet Martie, thank you for sharing!



May love and light always shine upon you!

Love,
Noah Eaton

"Underneath your clothes there's an endless story..."

Shakira

Goodknight
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17 posted 2003-03-06 09:55 AM


Martie - when you write of what you feel we get to feel it and see it and wonder about it - more treasure you offer to us - thanks Paul
Dark Angel
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18 posted 2003-03-08 07:30 PM


This is a little different from you Martie or is it cause it felt dream-like to me? Whichever... I absolutely love it!

miss you

Maree

Mysteria
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19 posted 2003-03-08 08:03 PM


Loved the link I see Oh Martie, you capture the beauty of things so well, and I can only tell you in "plain English" it pleases me so to read your work.

           
R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
Aretha Franklin  

Wind
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20 posted 2003-03-08 08:48 PM


wow, I was captivated. It was so real, just like I was there.

the Wind is invisible.
        remeber me

Bill Charles
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21 posted 2003-03-08 09:18 PM


Martie - of you, by you, only as you can write...

BC

passing shadows
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22 posted 2003-03-09 02:59 AM



Ratleader
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23 posted 2004-10-08 05:48 PM


There are poems -- Roethke's Elegy For Jane is one -- to which it seems to be necessary for me to return from time to time, just to balance my soul.

This is another of them.

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Ratleader
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24 posted 2004-10-08 06:04 PM


I may as well make it easy.....

This is one of the poems that formed me.


Elegy for Jane
(My student, thrown by a horse)

I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;
And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;
And how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,
And she balanced in the delight of her thought,

A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.
The shade sang with her;
The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,
And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.

Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,
Even a father could not find her:
Scraping her cheek against straw,
Stirring the clearest water.

My sparrow, you are not here,
Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow.
The sides of wet stones cannot console me,
Nor the moss, wound with the last light.

If only I could nudge you from this sleep,
My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.
Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:
I, with no rights in this matter,
Neither father nor lover.



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