Help | About | Suggestions | Alms | Chat [0] | Users [0] | Log In | Join
 Search:
Poem: Submit | Random | Best | Worst | Recent | Comments   

Fiery Hands (Free verse) by Sunny
The woman does not move; and her clock is dosed with amnesia. Something scarred these hands into coma. The peeping bird shuts-off its’ back-‘forth routine, and the mother, in her complacent gown under the arch of the bathroom door, is helpless while she becomes consumed by a force greater than herself. It makes her baby’s mouths oval lips silenced, before it’s attempted cry. The toddler’s pruned fingers twisted the cold water off, allowed hot water to spill; and now the boiling water tightens on the skin that lies prey-pink rawness enveloping. He is a statue that burns, he is feeling, he sees out of blue eyes, while she is embraced with a tortured stare. Frozen fingers are in limbo inside rescue and this eternal pause, cementing her feet to the stance they were left in. Baby’s mouth is opened without the screech; time quit in the seconds that lived before a wail and attempt.

Up the ladder: Chthonic Steppenwolf
Down the ladder: The Picture

You must be logged in to leave comments. Vote:

Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
 GraphVotes
10  .. 00
.. 00
.. 00
.. 20
.. 00
.. 00
.. 00
.. 00
.. 00
.. 00
.. 10

Arithmetic Mean: 4.6666665
Weighted score: 4.9602656
Overall Rank: 8606
Posted: April 1, 2006 2:18 PM PST; Last modified: April 1, 2006 2:18 PM PST
View voting details
Comments:
[7] Dovina @ 68.164.65.122 | 1-Apr-06/3:55 PM | Reply
I see you trying to incorporate the comments on the former version, but to ill effect. I hate when people do to me whast I wioll do to you:

The woman does not move;
her clock has amnesia,
and her hands are scarred.

The peeping bird has ceased its
back-‘forth routine, and the mother,
in her complacent gown

under the arch of the bathroom door,
is consumed by a force
greater than herself.

It makes her baby’s
oval lips silent, before it’s attempted cry.
The toddler’s pruned fingers
twisted the cold water off, allowed hot water

to spill; and now the boiling water
tightens on the skin
that lies prey-pink raw.

He is a statue that burns,
he sees out of blue eyes.
tortured stare nembraces her.

Frozen fingers
are in limbo in this eternal pause,
cementing her feet.

Baby’s mouth
is opened without the screech; time quit in the seconds
that lived before a wail and attempt.



Not perfect. Play with it.
[7] Ranger @ 86.131.60.114 | 3-Apr-06/2:08 AM | Reply
There are some top lines here (you seem to be pretty consistent at coming up with good stuff!) but some bits don't keep up the standard. And I really don't like the disjointed stanza endings - personally I'd turn them into properly punctuated stanzas (as Dovina suggested). Excellent imagery though. It's great to see poetry like yours here.
138 view(s)




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001