Dovina
on Death's Invitation by eliastemplar
6 Oct 2004, 10:04 AM
I have a letter that might as well be around my neck reminding of a narrow escape, and in a bargain with the grim reaper, there's the stones of a crumbled foundation accross a wooded path. Thanks for the reminder.
a great thing about confusion.
I never would have thought to write a poem about taking a leak, but you've started my gears turning. I found this poem very amusing.
A great thing about poetry is that what I think when writing is not necessarily the thought arising in a reader. Thank you.
A very emotional piece. I enjoyed the imagery. I didn't feel any pressure to "get the point". It seemed more despair than rage. Thankyou.
Pure and well written. It seems like it should be negetive, yet it pleasantly reminds me of the mystery and facination between lovers. It made me homesick. Intimacy is very elusive when you are deployed overseas. Excellent, Thankyou.
You use a lot of repetition in this poem, but I think the repetition is apropriate. War is suffering and corruption ad nauseum ad nauseum. I speak from experience. I think the world today is severely lacking in feminine influence, and we will all suffer until this imbalance is righted. So much is being wasted. It is not even clearly understood why we are fighting. I wish I were not here. I am probably losing my marbles. Thankyou.
I enjoyed this. We all struggle with faith. Faith is a self imposed struggle by design. Often our final refuge is faith in ourselves, creating a conscience to trust. Sometimes we are teased by spots and smears that appear on the blank page. Spots that our minds create from staring too hard. Faith comes at discount prices in a combat zone. You strain harder for answers when you realize your life could easily be cut short. Somehow it cheapens the discoveries you make, but you can ill afford to ignore them here. As though I were treating an ill patient I do whatever is necessary to comfort myself. In the end I find myself retaining more and more objects of faith close to my heart. Your poem reminds me of the fear and the struggle that always remain no matter how much faith you retain. Thanks.
At least you're off the marriage binge.
This is what poetry should be.
As far as the "one" thing goes, it strikes me that the best (if not the only) reason to use "one" in a sentence as you have is to give it some kind of polite, educated, abstract quality. Since you'd already said "As we were questioning etc etc", that was already gone all to shit. Using "one" in some sentence here is fine, if that's your thing. But using "we" and "one" in the same sentence (to mean approximately the same thing, at that) just sounds gay.
Re: "I suggest if you believe the use of 'one' and other pomposities on this site is to make the writer appear scholarly then it is you who are the dim." That's not at all what I said. I said you were using them to appear scholarly, and by incorrectly using them you were making yourself sound dim instead.
With that middle bit, I'm going to suppose you're not trying to quote me, since if you are, you're the world's most floundering turd.
Re: "a more chilling reposte to your boast would be that we have a doctor on this site. And his name is doug."
Chilling indeed. Here's a bit selected more-or-less at random from dougsoderstrom's oeuvre: "I agree with you as you do have a very good point. However, as you can see, I did make provision for your well-made point in that man, having been "melded into society/socialized/brain-washed" is, I feel, moved, by the evolutionary force, to cooperate with those within "his own family" (his national group) in order to defend himself/his group of fellows by killing the enemy.......... in order to survive."
And I don't know what boast you're talking about. I don't remember claiming to be anything on this site except a recent Grad Student in an Accredited Poetry School, Heir to a Milwaukee Jerky Czarship, and a current teacher of Retard Islams in Karak, Islamland - all but one of which is true.
I like this!
"The love you need is already there......"
you idiot
I fell in love with this poem.
It pains me to relate the tale
Of how my loins became so frail.
'twas long ago, when just like you,
I was young, and foolish too.
My misspent youth was Poulaine-free:
I'm not the man I used to be!
How spritely I did pounce in shame!
Unburden'd by the great poulaine!
Leaping gaily through the town,
O'er pointed rail and skulking browne*,
'till one morn my footing failed
And 'pon an fence I was impaled!
Ne'er again the brogueish sheath
To cling upon my underneath:
A pointed shoe now does protrude
From my mangled, dangled lewd.
*browne n. An ethnic hobo or street urchin; a stain.
Was surfing through your poems....and this one i really liked...
this could be a really intense poem if you did expand on it...( gosh I hate giving advice)....lots of emotions left unsaid here I think....