Speaking of shit suckers... I'm amazed at how you get the corn up the straw, and the peanuts out of your teeth prior to visiting the family golden hen for another hand out. that's skill. Others may doubt it, but me, I'm impressed.
maybe you could say something like, "across the whole of ontario" to clue in the reader? because i'd venture to say that 90% of the people reading this are going to think you mean the london in UK, and go ,"huh?" like i did, unless you drop a clue to alert them otherwise.
... and as for the last line... it's true, "perfect" is one of those words I tend to use when I can't quite find the right one. It always seems to fit.
Gah! The truth revealed? Ignore that last sentence! Pay no attention to the man behind the computer! It's all a dream! Wooooo!
well then, how about sublime? which means perfect--as she was in your desore for her, but also because to sublimate is both to go from a state of matter directly to gas, without becoming liquid first (misc. soul/heaven interps) and also to express a socially unacceptable desire, usually sexual, in a way generally considered healthy--e.g.--you want to hit someone--you become a boxer. holy ontario, batman--look at that sublime word!
I have a cunning plan. Boycott him. Simply don't reply to any comment he makes. In fact, delete his comments on your poems. Then he can spout off in his own poems. But since I never click on his "poetry", I'll never have to deal with the punk again.
BOYCOTT!
maybe i'll boycott him, but i won't censor him. it would just make him feel like what he was writing was affecting me. so i'll let him rant all he wants. either his meds will level him off, or they won't.
DAMMIT BILL! PEOPLE ARE DYING IN IRAQ SO HE CAN HAVE THE FREEDOM TO CALL ME AN INCESTUOUS CUNT! ISN'T THAT WHAT FREEDOM IS ABOUT????
I'd hardly call it censorship. If he went to your house to visit, and scribbled obsenities on the wall, would it be censorship to paint over them? Nope.
He can spout off all he wants in his "poems" or in his own commentary. But if we want to delete a comment he makes on our poem, we have every right.
It's not censorship. It's good housekeeping. That's a good thing ( <---said in best Martha Stewart impression)
I actually agree with you here. I'm a real twat, but I do it in my own time on my own poems. If people don't find me funny, they can not view my stuff. And if you don't like my comments you can delete them.
It sounds as if you are plunking both the money and the mug the way it is written. Needs a comma to separate into two thoughts or a rewrite. You lifted a casket? Or just opened the door to the booth. Again, sentence structure is confusing. I really like the final stanza. Some of the lines are quite fine, but the build up leaves me wanting a bit more and I think it is tied up somewhere in the grammar at the beginning and just a bit of wandering in the middle. But I like what is being said and the idea behind it (London is fine the way it is. If people do not know London Ontario then screw them - not you though, Z), but I think the entire poem needs to read with the strength of the last stanza.
okay, the reason i think it has to be clarified is because it isthe first town you mention. but it does not work so well the way you have it now. i prefer the orginal stanza, as the comma'd one doesn't flow. maybe try:
Close your eyes
in London--Ontario's a blurred dream--
and awaken in Toronto
with your cold hands on my belly.
Mellifluently told ! Remember when taking on board the sound advice and suggestions given be careful not to disrupt the poignanancy you have masterfully created in here. perfection is a bridge too far, but by golly its in sight. Well done my boy on a bloody fine poem 10
(bowing low) Please, I am most unworthy, you embarass me! What hey? Don't stop! (puts hat back on head, as should an Gentleman)
Thankyou oh panegyrical one!
I thank you. Thank you.
You are a warm bath
on a cold winter night.
The way she parts the sea
with sculpted knee,
and rolls back
and runs fingers along
rivulets of wax
that speak of memorable nights
It's automatic.
Can't stop placing
simple words, each after another,
and sigh sadness...
There is such an immense sadness.
Can't you see it? Are you the one?
Here, let me guide your hand
to my brow,
cool against this broken field.
Sometimes I use it as a shield,
to hide from the acidic sun.
---------------
44 comments
Also,
... IIIIIIIIIII'm BACK!
not perfect, if wasting.
otherwise, damn this is good.
here i'll vote. and i'll do it again, once you assuage me.
Not the most famous city, but it's where I hang my head.
Gah! The truth revealed? Ignore that last sentence! Pay no attention to the man behind the computer! It's all a dream! Wooooo!
Thank you thankyou!
(!)
yer welcome.
BOYCOTT!
DAMMIT BILL! PEOPLE ARE DYING IN IRAQ SO HE CAN HAVE THE FREEDOM TO CALL ME AN INCESTUOUS CUNT! ISN'T THAT WHAT FREEDOM IS ABOUT????
He can spout off all he wants in his "poems" or in his own commentary. But if we want to delete a comment he makes on our poem, we have every right.
It's not censorship. It's good housekeeping. That's a good thing ( <---said in best Martha Stewart impression)
(Argh...I'm sober)
.vidi vici.
It's not a bad poem either. Keep it up.
Close your eyes
in London--Ontario's a blurred dream--
and awaken in Toronto
with your cold hands on my belly.
Thankyou oh panegyrical one!
Great use of the sound in words.
black & white
stripped, and pinned.
eerie upright...
close, hide, awaken.
the way her eyes darkened.
your words are beautiful. They ring, like a peal bells, or laughter.
You are a warm bath
on a cold winter night.
The way she parts the sea
with sculpted knee,
and rolls back
and runs fingers along
rivulets of wax
that speak of memorable nights
It's automatic.
Can't stop placing
simple words, each after another,
and sigh sadness...
There is such an immense sadness.
Can't you see it? Are you the one?
Here, let me guide your hand
to my brow,
cool against this broken field.
Sometimes I use it as a shield,
to hide from the acidic sun.
---------------
I don't know what that was
(yeah!!!)
NFG BOUGHT IT!
SNAP!
(hm, slathered names...)
I lave the world
in slathered leather feathers.
lathers and laves and lathes you, alustre!
xo,
z
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