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Pretending (Free verse) by temptalia
surrounded by reminders of the past, dancing and flowing feet swept away into the sweetest rapture effortlessly syncopated with catalepsy, timed movements against taut strings which play into a history of unwelcome symbolism the tenderness uninvited, but still embraced hands sliding into place, firmly planted, not yet demanding as orchestrated melodies submerge an empty hall, leaving us isolated as lovers long to be, to nurse their stimulation and indulge passion instead, faint signs of a displeasing aftertaste lingers in the air; kindly killing and blissfully beautiful bodies sway, contours matching and interlocking puzzle pieces fading and blurring into singularity eyes downcast, poignant avoidance tightening its hold causing distressing closeness--touching and caressing forcefully renewing buried, matchless agony separating, mingling and forgetting only to be drawn into the inevitability: the seducing pull of lust and love the mind subduing, as the heart constricts; succumbing to internal desires repulsed and entranced by knowing fingertips that promise the most delightful delivering of self-destruction continuing instinctively--mindlessly--living with well-thought words and well-placed phrases that give us hollow detachment slaves to visions of characters we detest playing never slipping on an ill-made facade, which becomes practiced and rehearsed fantasies that breed beads of hope, with reality waiting with sharpened talons, to shred attempted dreams conceding finally, a harsh forbiddance compels us to lay like the dead, flesh tingling by old shadows that fight against the jest we so avidly entrust our souls to maintaining sultry teasing and pleasant humor which keeps us moving--pretending and forgiving ourselves for the most unthinkable deceit: restricting and conforming to unspoken restraints that bind us with skillful manipulations festering beneath the lies we dutifully dust away as we resume our rightful spots as dancing fools directed by the righteousness of mind that has conquered heart and soul.

Up the ladder: Stop Staring
Down the ladder: Ghosts II

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Arithmetic Mean: 4.6
Weighted score: 4.9523187
Overall Rank: 8913
Posted: August 23, 2002 5:15 PM PDT; Last modified: August 23, 2002 5:15 PM PDT
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Comments:
[0] god'swife @ 24.126.113.154 | 23-Aug-02/6:02 PM | Reply
this poem is not only awful, but long and awful. Have any of your friends read this? Ask them their honest opinions because since you don't know me you'll assume I'm just being mean, when I'm nothing but sincere. There's so much gobblety-gook. Ideas are poetic not words. I get tired reading this because your choice of words not only adds nothing but detracts from the whole. You can't communicate using this formula ya'all seem to have confused for poetry. Go to the library and look up some of the best. Their work never ever sounds or looks like this. big fat 0.
[10] ==Doylum @ 213.122.147.251 | 23-Aug-02/6:10 PM | Reply
yeah big fat zero, ye big fat zero. you make me weep. mother bring a tissue. No not really 10/10
[n/a] temptalia @ | 23-Aug-02/7:52 PM | Reply
God's Wife - I'd like to say I appreciated your criticism, however, I felt that there was little constructive criticism within what you said. Poetry does not have a "formula", it is a way to express yourself however you choose to do so--whether it's long and wordy or concise. You'd do better to forget judging others' work using rules that dictate length as well as style.

On another note, I've had about 200-300 people read this work, and those who chose to comment enjoyed it.
[10] ==Doylum @ 213.122.42.179 | 23-Aug-02/7:58 PM | Reply
Yeah Gods ball and chain. Oh i'd appreciate it if you commented on my poem. You are a fucking hippy GB&C in the updated 60's meaning of the wor/l/d
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