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Passions in Poetry

Memo # 1511-12b

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Effigy
Member
since 04-11-2000
Posts 490
Just sitting at the computer


0 posted 11-26-2003 06:00 PM       View Profile for Effigy   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for Effigy

It's been months since we spoke.
          life has it's inconviences
               traffic gets in the way.

If I may be honest with you...
              
               kind of thought you were dead
               - at least lost.

You haven't sang
            haven't written.

Where have you been?

      (Bathing in the preformed history of current maturity?)

Well it wasn't here.
       -not in this cubicle.
       -not looking into this screen.
             No you have definatly been gone.

I would not have recognized,
       were it not for my eyes staring back at me
      (a mirror is incapable of deception or lies.)
       your weak, frale and malnourished appearance.
                    
Perhaps...yes I think so,
          you are dead.

You see a memory fades, changes
and is inevidably stored in a box
          at the back of a warehouse.

Just a discarded toy
       glaced over in an adult mind
       forgotten in play.

M.I.A.

Sincerly,

me

[This message has been edited by Effigy (11-26-2003 06:35 PM).]

© Copyright 2003 Effigy - All Rights Reserved
Midnitesun
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Empyrean
since 05-18-2001
Posts 29020
Gaia


1 posted 11-26-2003 11:57 PM       View Profile for Midnitesun   Email Midnitesun   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Midnitesun

Poignant and sad, but a heartwarming, gentle emotional write. Hope the intended MIA reads this, and acknowledges that you care.
It's good to see you in here again.
Hope you enjoy a Happy Thanksgiving.
passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 08-26-99
Posts 46297
displaced


2 posted 11-27-2003 05:37 AM       View Profile for passing shadows   Email passing shadows   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for passing shadows

I know how this feels...I'm going through this now, like I was yesterday...

good to see you back around
Effigy
Member
since 04-11-2000
Posts 490
Just sitting at the computer


3 posted 11-27-2003 11:27 AM       View Profile for Effigy   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Effigy

I enjoyed the kind remarks, however I believe that you two may have misunderstood the concept of the poem.  MIA was not a person, it was the man's imagination (youth).
He had gotten so busy in his new role as an adult he had left childhood toys behind.
passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 08-26-99
Posts 46297
displaced


4 posted 11-29-2003 02:02 PM       View Profile for passing shadows   Email passing shadows   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for passing shadows

Wes, I guess when I read poetry, I look for deeper meanings than what is written...

it's a good write that makes people search for and find deeper meaning
forne_marin
Member
since 04-13-2004
Posts 140
Spartanburg, South Carolina


5 posted 05-14-2004 10:14 AM       View Profile for forne_marin   Email forne_marin   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit forne_marin's Home Page   View IP for forne_marin

Well, it's good to know that I can follow your line of thought. I figured it was someone talking to themselves on some level. What I didn't get was "youth". If you want to stick with that, then you need to work on this piece, because even knowing what you intended, I've reread it several times and it still doesn't come across.

That and one other thing: "(Bathing in the preformed history of current maturity?)" What the hell kind of psychobabble is that? That didn't make a bit of sense.

Technically, it's a good piece. Heck, I even liked it. My take on it was someone caught in a corporate hell who one day finally looked himself in the mirror (instead of his reflection in a computer screen) and realized he didn't recognize himself anymore.

So don't get me wrong, I liked the piece, but it needs to be overhauled.

I believe the most important component of a poem is rhythm. Rhythm is the heartbeat of a poem. It is what makes poetry poetry.

 
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