Poem #18

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Joe Way
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Location: Wisconsin, USA

Poem #18

Post by Joe Way »

Life fades

She hides
beneath desperation
incapable

Sees fractured
brutal dismantling?
Yes
the crushing, crackling insight
as thorn outlasts rose.

Then, tattooed upon her heart
duty, love, pain
now fading
fading

Sidelined
sighing
sightless
too damaged to grasp
the promised palm of spring

Harken,
peals outstripping flower bells
as snow
silently removes her tread
from a road that outruns her pace

Naught, but wait
wait
wait

Aloneness, lost, losing
shivering seasoned flesh
A scraggy gourd past using
for winter is nature’s scourge
clearing the path.
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Joe Way
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Location: Wisconsin, USA

Post by Joe Way »

While there are other phrases to admire in this poem, "a scraggy gourd past" has wonderful sonics. I'm not of the specific meaning that this phrase has in the final stanza. Is it a description of the "voices" past? Or is it an object that is being used to clear the path?

The language and atmosphere is rich, but the clarity needs a bit of refocusing.

Joe
"Say a prayer for the cowboy..."
Critic2
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Post by Critic2 »

Life fades

She hides
beneath desperation
incapable

Sees fractured
brutal dismantling?
Yes
the crushing, crackling insight
as thorn outlasts rose.

the rhythm is fractured to match your imagery




Then, tattooed upon her heart
duty, love, pain
now fading
fading

I wouldn't have gone for the repeat fading

Sidelined
sighing
sightless
too damaged to grasp
the promised palm of spring

I don't offer a hand to your "promised palm", sorry

Harken,
peals outstripping flower bells
as snow
silently removes her tread
from a road that outruns her pace

"naughty boys' corner" for "harken". come out when you are ready to say sorry! (btw I am ready already to say sorry, sorry, if you are a "girl", check it and let me know. if still in doubt then Joe has a gender agenda on his judging cv)

Naught, but wait
wait
wait

to the "naught boys' corner" for...."naught"

Aloneness, lost, losing
shivering seasoned flesh
A scraggy gourd past using
for winter is nature’s scourge
clearing the path.

way better!

this has promise, spend some time with it but cut out the poetic talk!
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Byron
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Location: Mad House, Eating Tablets, Cereals, Jam, Marmalade and HONEY, with Albert

Post by Byron »

Joe Way wrote:While there are other phrases to admire in this poem, "a scraggy gourd past" has wonderful sonics. I'm not of the specific meaning that this phrase has in the final stanza. Is it a description of the "voices" past? Or is it an object that is being used to clear the path?

The language and atmosphere is rich, but the clarity needs a bit of refocusing.

Joe
C'est moi.
The gourd is an old hollow fruit that is now past its uses. It is also past any possible use for the coming winter. The winter gales will blow anything away that is not tethered down and this old gourd will not survive the winter.
"Bipolar is a roller-coaster ride without a seat belt. One day you're flying with the fireworks; for the next month you're being scraped off the trolley" I said that.
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Byron
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Post by Byron »

Critic2 wrote:Life fades

She hides
beneath desperation
incapable

Sees fractured
brutal dismantling?
Yes
the crushing, crackling insight
as thorn outlasts rose.

the rhythm is fractured to match your imagery




Then, tattooed upon her heart
duty, love, pain
now fading
fading

I wouldn't have gone for the repeat fading


Sidelined
sighing
sightless
too damaged to grasp
the promised palm of spring

I don't offer a hand to your "promised palm", sorry. I agree!!

Harken,
peals outstripping flower bells
as snow
silently removes her tread
from a road that outruns her pace

"naughty boys' corner" for "harken". come out when you are ready to say sorry! I agree here as well !!

Naught, but wait
wait
wait

to the "naught boys' corner" for...."naught" Likewise, I agree!

Aloneness, lost, losing
shivering seasoned flesh
A scraggy gourd past using
for winter is nature’s scourge
clearing the path.

way better! I thought so too.

this has promise, spend some time with it but cut out the poetic talk!
"Bipolar is a roller-coaster ride without a seat belt. One day you're flying with the fireworks; for the next month you're being scraped off the trolley" I said that.
Critic2
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Location: DON'T FEED THE TROLLS

Post by Critic2 »

ok, so it's you Byron. then why are you in the naughty *girls'* corner? come out immediately and revise this promising poem!!
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tom.d.stiller
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Post by tom.d.stiller »

Oh Michael, John's never in the girls' corner :!:

I hope I didn't betray any secrets..
Last edited by tom.d.stiller on Mon Feb 07, 2005 4:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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witty_owl
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Post by witty_owl »

This poem appears as the personification of death as winter/winter as death. Many of the poems on this topic have used the simile of winter as death and winter as lonliness. This poem alludes to both and suggests further that death is a release from life's traumas. Also the morals and emotions that may shape one's life such as "duty, love, pain" become meaning less at the threshold of death. And when all seems as if life comes to nothing the writer reminds us that death/winter must perform its task to make way for new life.

Cheers, Witty.
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Byron
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Post by Byron »

Thanks witty. I wanted to get inside the skin and fear of one old person.
The bones are brittle and broken. The skin is shrivelled and of no use to anyone. The heart failing to remember the burdens that life put on its owner. The fact that she is going on an inevitable journey, on her own. She has to make this journey without human companions or even the memory of what companionship meant. Totally alone.
At the end of her life she is no more than the dead flesh, dead memories, dead life, that will be swept aside by Winter.
We could say that Winter is cruel. However, we cannot fight the inevitable and we must not forget that we arrived thanks to Winter's offspring, (Pun intended)
"Bipolar is a roller-coaster ride without a seat belt. One day you're flying with the fireworks; for the next month you're being scraped off the trolley" I said that.
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