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Open Poetry #34
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babygirlwlove
Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180
New York City

0 posted 2004-11-02 07:04 AM


Nothing
can bring back the hour,
swallowed by the fluent
chatter of glass hammers
whose sorrow is a shattering
symphony of psalms
sung over the din of oblivion,
where all my dreams thirst,
prodigal, but to burst
into a great rain of fireflies
frostbit in the threadbare
melancholy of wings that bring
over these thresholds,
the slow elegy of every hope
that is stillborn, the worn
erosions of my grammar stir
from stutter to cadence,
in the lavish radiance of love
streamlined to the instantaneous,oh,
emblems of silence
x-ray our souls
with the illusion of lost innocence,
drowned in a nova of color
over a resin sequence of bones,
crucified and cast
into the vast pools
of night, the slight tingle
inside the skin,
a sterling sound
bound in the knotted musculature
of its very mirrors,
to drown
and drench
and quench,
the hieroglyphs
that were burned from the flesh
to clear the slab for some Christ
to resurrect,except,
nothing can bring back
the fledging hour that swallows
worn down words, drown,
and darkness
becomes a privilege.

2004 copyright babygirLPress

[This message has been edited by babygirlwlove (11-02-2004 12:32 PM).]

© Copyright 2004 babygirLPress - All Rights Reserved
Cpat Hair
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793

1 posted 2004-11-02 08:03 AM


as always it seems.. your words are layered well with illusion, imagery, and emotions...

I will ponder this a while...

but know it indeed is well done... and moving

babygirlwlove
Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180
New York City
2 posted 2004-11-02 08:12 AM


thanks, Chief....

this is again, one of my heavier pieces...lol..I appreciate the tolerance..lol

much love,
**babyblu**

**Intoxicant to the SouL**

Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554

3 posted 2004-11-02 08:27 AM


Nothing
can bring back the hour,
swallowed by the fluent
chatter of glass hammers
whose sorrow is a shattering
symphony of psalms
sung over the din of oblivion,
where all my dreams thirst,
prodigal, but to burst
into a great rain of fireflies
frostbit in the threadbare
melancholy of wings that bring
over these thresholds,
the slow elegy of every hope
that is stillborn, the worn
erosions in my grammar stir
from stutter to cadence,

~~~~
with the illusion of lost innocence,
drowned in a nova of color
over a resin sequence of bones,
crucified and cast
into the vast pools
of night, the slight tingle
inside the skin,

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


and what an impressive "stir of grammar" this is....

swallowed by the fluent
chatter of glass hammers
whose sorrow is a shattering
symphony of psalms
sung over the din of oblivion,

~~~~
the slow elegy of every hope
that is stillborn, the worn
erosions in my grammar stir
from stutter to cadence,



I love the assonance and word play of those lines. Its always a treat to read someone with such a unique style.

glass hammers

now how cool is that!!
  

Poetry is emotion put into measure.
The emotion comes by nature ...
but the measure is acquired by art.

Thomas Hardy


babygirlwlove
Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180
New York City
4 posted 2004-11-02 08:33 AM


JM~

thank you ...

**babygirL**

**Intoxicant to the SouL**

Mysteria
Deputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Laureate
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328
British Columbia, Canada
5 posted 2004-11-02 01:24 PM


Sadly such a welcome priveldge and a release at that.

Example is not the main thing in influencing others, it is the only thing.
~ Albert Schweitzer

babygirlwlove
Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180
New York City
6 posted 2004-11-02 01:56 PM


Mysteria~

thanks love...

**babygirL**

**Intoxicant to the SouL**

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

7 posted 2004-11-02 03:27 PM


Nothing
can bring back the hour,
swallowed by the fluent
chatter of glass hammers
whose sorrow is a shattering
symphony of psalms
sung over the din of oblivion,
where all my dreams thirst,
prodigal, but to burst
into a great rain of fireflies
frostbit in the threadbare
melancholy of wings that bring
over these thresholds,
the slow elegy of every hope
that is stillborn,


Outstanding!
I love what you do with imagery.

M.

Oh, you speak to me in riddles
and you speak to me in rhymes
My body aches to breathe your breath
Your words keep me alive
~Sarah McLachlan~

Aenimal
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-18
Posts 7350
the ass-end of space
8 posted 2004-11-02 04:38 PM


You have a way with images, do you paint/draw as well?
babygirlwlove
Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180
New York City
9 posted 2004-11-03 06:43 AM


M~

thanks love, for stopping in on this...
******************************************
A~

glad you like...and unfortunately, while I have been told I do have a propensity for it....lol...the only thing I can manage with any skill at all are caricatures...lol

much love,
**babygirL**

**Intoxicant to the SouL**

Kevo
Member
since 2004-06-02
Posts 466
Navarro County, Texas, USA
10 posted 2004-11-16 01:53 AM


You have another fan.  I am in awe.  You are a refined and passionate poet with incomparable depth.  Your writes speak volumes to me.  

Warm regards,

Kevin

Cathie Arnold
Junior Member
since 2002-12-03
Posts 18
SC
11 posted 2004-11-16 01:56 AM


Wow! Very descriptive and deep. I really liked this one. Good work!!!
passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577
displaced
12 posted 2004-11-16 05:20 AM


girl, those last lines are incredible
babygirlwlove
Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180
New York City
13 posted 2004-11-16 06:32 AM


Kevo, Cathie & passing shadows....

thank you all for the kind replies!

love&light,
**babygirL**

**Intoxicant to the SouL**

wranx
Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689
Moved from a shack to a barn
14 posted 2004-11-16 07:54 AM


I've just got beneath the imagery reflected on the surface...I'll be back to brush away patterns in the silt, to find, no doubt, a mosaic at the heart of it.

Thick, this is

LeeJ
Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296

15 posted 2004-11-16 08:08 AM


bound in the knotted musculature
of its very mirrors,
to drown
and drench
and quench,
the hieroglyphs
that were burned from the flesh
to clear the slab for some Christ
to resurrect,except,
nothing can bring back
the fledging hour that swallows
worn down words, drown,
and darkness
becomes a privilege.


wheww, some very heavy metal here
Intense and deliberate writing, your a master with words...creating and capturing such deep down honest feelings.  

Tremendous

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