Poetic Haven |
VII. |
Allysa
since 1999-11-09
Posts 1952In an upside-down garden |
My senses deceived me- feet touching concrete, the city smelled familiar a mix, rainwater and garbage and plastic cups, beads if they have a smell nostalgia and hands touching walls of buildings far away watching streets never filled with water they glance as my eyes close he looks, concerned furrowed brow and takes me pulls me by the hand, drags me down the street they don't see the ghosts I see I'm not sure even I do anymore it's something just over my shoulder, out of reach, and far enough away to quiet the muttering, talking, mistaking city blocks for something else I saw once he watches my eyes search not knowing what I'm looking for every city is the same and it isn't, except when you close your eyes to see the jazz parade, the rain of days, it doesn't matter where you are it finds you. |
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© Copyright 2008 Allysa - All Rights Reserved | |||
Brian James Member
since 2005-06-26
Posts 147Winnipeg |
There was a time when I was highly skeptical of what I called "choppy line-breaky poetry," but my opinion of it is occasionally redeemed by examples of good poems written in that strain. Such as this one. The landscape of the poem is so thematically similar to the flow of ideas. I really admire that. Every stanza is like a turn on a street corner, to a new avenue, the same but completely different. The ultimate effect is a wandering, unanticipated and unanticipatable futurelessness and uncertainty. Your most isolated lines are also, appropriately, the most intimate and personal parts of the poem. It works out really, really well. Ahh, "Poetic Haven" is awesome. Come, and let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the deaths of kings. Nice to have seen you around, Allysa. "To me, the thing that art does for life is to clean it, to strip it to form." |
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Allysa
since 1999-11-09
Posts 1952In an upside-down garden |
Thanks. |
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