on museheart is internationally published by scitz
9 Sep 2003, 9:42 AM
It is called "the dozens".
on some deleted poem
9 Sep 2003, 9:27 AM
I enjoyed it. These two lines:
"it becomes the uninvited
unwieldy hands bring winterâs chill"
seem to need a "who" or "that" to be clear.
"it becomes the uninvited
unwieldy hands bring winterâs chill"
seem to need a "who" or "that" to be clear.
on canto di desiderio by Bill Z Bub
8 Sep 2003, 8:06 PM
La parte che ha tradotto correttamente era bella. L'ultima linea avete detto, "Sapete that urlano for you". Elaborereste su questa linea?
on (limits of ambition) by richa
9 Sep 2003, 9:34 AM
Is this a rewrite, seems like I've seen part of it before. Nice job.
on A Lovely Surprise by ?-Dave_Mysterious-?
7 Sep 2003, 4:56 PM
I love the "crisply laid stool" part. They don't make toys like they used to!
on some deleted poem
9 Sep 2003, 9:32 AM
Nice.
on I Usually Wear Pants by razorgrin
9 Sep 2003, 9:39 AM
And why would they?
on some deleted poem
10 Oct 2003, 11:17 AM
Beautiful. It feels like it needs a comma in the last line after "will". Nice, dense, allusions.
on some deleted poem
10 Oct 2003, 11:29 AM
I think you should move the sign on the outside of the church to the beginning of the poem, before you reveal what the priest is doing because everything is already revealed at the end, and makes the last line feel unnecessary.
I like a little social commentary poetry. I loved that the insecticide was included in the list of church "needs".
You know, a lot of people overlook sexually abusive nuns. I have a friend who grew up on a reservation and he said if you got in trouble the nuns would make you sit under their desk, facing the chair (their crotch), while they scooted up and sat at their desk. He said he could still smell them. These Catholic schools they put on the reservations were funded by the state to civilize the Native people (so much for separation of church and state), yet they would solicit for contributions on Sundays "for the poor people" and my friend, a rebel and a thinker, wondered why the church wasn't putting any money into the reservation, because people there were destitute. Not that you asked, but I think it is a disgusting bit of history(?) and would work in confrontational poems like this.
I like a little social commentary poetry. I loved that the insecticide was included in the list of church "needs".
You know, a lot of people overlook sexually abusive nuns. I have a friend who grew up on a reservation and he said if you got in trouble the nuns would make you sit under their desk, facing the chair (their crotch), while they scooted up and sat at their desk. He said he could still smell them. These Catholic schools they put on the reservations were funded by the state to civilize the Native people (so much for separation of church and state), yet they would solicit for contributions on Sundays "for the poor people" and my friend, a rebel and a thinker, wondered why the church wasn't putting any money into the reservation, because people there were destitute. Not that you asked, but I think it is a disgusting bit of history(?) and would work in confrontational poems like this.
on Winter Lands: I by http://bandgeek
7 Dec 2003, 6:59 PM
Winter Lands: II
This winter,
a new land to explore,
suburban chickens
peck over frozen ground.
Salt water freezes on bluegreen estuary banksâ
sloping glaze, as inviting as a waterslide
in spite of eternal, internal struggle of salty ice.
Clots of snow form on stilled river
like frothing yeast in lukewarm water.
Gentle spray over the dam freezes
into frosty stalagmites:
upside-down icicles reaching toward clouds.
The traffic on Main Street
comprises of privately owned
pick up trucks with yellow plows attached
on their way to rescue those who can pay.
Shovelers relocate dense snow,
one 12 x 16 x 8 inch rectangle at a time
the satisfying fulfillment of
metal scraping gravel struggles to be heard
over obliviously aimed snowblower motors
who fan their plumes of snow onto
shovelersâ now diminutive accomplishments.
In this land,
it is so easy.
Let the car hide under that mass,
safety is not the certainty
of an accessible city bus every fifteen minutes.
Safety is hibernation behind storm windows
among flannel and housecats,
feeling assured,
there is nothing to do out there anyway.
This winter,
a new land to explore,
suburban chickens
peck over frozen ground.
Salt water freezes on bluegreen estuary banksâ
sloping glaze, as inviting as a waterslide
in spite of eternal, internal struggle of salty ice.
Clots of snow form on stilled river
like frothing yeast in lukewarm water.
Gentle spray over the dam freezes
into frosty stalagmites:
upside-down icicles reaching toward clouds.
The traffic on Main Street
comprises of privately owned
pick up trucks with yellow plows attached
on their way to rescue those who can pay.
Shovelers relocate dense snow,
one 12 x 16 x 8 inch rectangle at a time
the satisfying fulfillment of
metal scraping gravel struggles to be heard
over obliviously aimed snowblower motors
who fan their plumes of snow onto
shovelersâ now diminutive accomplishments.
In this land,
it is so easy.
Let the car hide under that mass,
safety is not the certainty
of an accessible city bus every fifteen minutes.
Safety is hibernation behind storm windows
among flannel and housecats,
feeling assured,
there is nothing to do out there anyway.
on some deleted poem
15 Jul 2005, 8:07 PM
I feel like I walked in on something I wasn't supposed to see.
on Why I Bother by empire942
15 Jul 2005, 8:11 PM
I stay awake at night thinking about whey too, when I am not thinking of bulgar or tempeh or grape tomatoes or heartbreak.
on Only I wish I could say.. by PunkyPanda
15 Jul 2005, 8:14 PM
I didn't see the happy ending coming.
on When the World Forgets by TLRufener
15 Jul 2005, 8:17 PM
I agree with jessicazee, you talked about a kind of pain, but I couldn't really empathize- even though I imagine it is real, in some respect, for you/your narrator.
on Birth, school, work and death. by darby pyn
15 Jul 2005, 8:22 PM
The ending lines were like rapid fire- but climatically worthy. Were you disregarding where the line breaks fell? It seems like this would be more poignant if one didn't have to scroll around to read the lines, and if the line breaks were placed strategically.
on some deleted poem
15 Jul 2005, 8:32 PM
I have totally been there! You really captured the way that images refuse to allow us to lapse into forgetfulness, forgiveness, and healing. Ruthless is misspelled (unless that is some alternant spelling), and you might want an apostrophe for "truths".
on some deleted poem
15 Jul 2005, 8:35 PM
I am sorry to say but "soft flowing hair" is about as cliche as a shampoo commercial. How about some substance here, why else would your narrator care to mention her hair?
on Inoculation by bamf909
15 Jul 2005, 7:58 PM
funny, you should do public health commercials
on Moving Up by jessicazee
15 Jul 2005, 8:01 PM
nice collage of details
on some deleted poem
15 Jul 2005, 8:03 PM
all right!