Silver WInd

Wow this was rahter fascinating as well as quite impressive, I think this is the first time I have seen one of my surrieal oddities anylyzied before, and you did a good job with it.

The jester is something of a regular playeer for me, he has made several apperances in a lot of my older poems, I just have not written anything quite like this in a while, have to be in the right mood to do so.

And possibly back again. Silver and gold could be seen as something that obscures vision, something that distracts, something that keeps focus on something other than what's important. Possibly indicating that the jester can't reveal it's true nature. It's either not ready or society isn't ready. Perhaps both.

I really like that, becasue honestly I am not sure where that last image came from, it just embeded itself in my mind so I figured I would just right it down but I really could not think of anywhere else to take it, but to just leave it as is.

Questions pulled like

teeth grown infected

out of every presented

answer.

I had a sort of inqusition image in my mind with this one, and the fact that often times an answer can lead to even further questions.

Well I have been in a wierd place today, so this is one of my more surreal peices that I have not done in a while.

Mayhem

The jester laughed

over the cup that crashed

a splash

Watched from behind

the eyes of the mask

standing witness, judge

and jury.

There was a gasp

filled the room

right up through to the dome

where the sky was painted

a flesh and bone fresco

Questions pulled like

teeth grown infected

out of every presented

answer.

While the maiden wept

within the corner

a blood spotted handkerchief.

The child born unwanted

within the ally

cried for the forgotten

but they danced on the graves

of those who never came home.

So wove the tale

the jester did

for the profit of a pair

of watching eyes

decked all in silver

and gold

I fround that throughtly amusing.

Just one little thing I wanted to point out

Japanese-Americans we locked in prison camps,

While Germans walked free!

That is techniqually not true. There were in fact both Germans and Italians who were intured, it is not as well known and it was not in as great of numbers, but it still did happen.

"Right of course, I nearly forgot about that"

Taps her index finger against her chin for a moment in thought

"Well you know there is not much light up there in the snow, but every now and then you get lucky and the sky clears up and then the sun catches on the snow, just so. It makes for quite a lovely affect. I had to wait for just the right moment to take the picture to get everything just so. The light has caught her dress in just such a way to make it appear almost transparent. And her silver white hair has a shimmer to to it and is blown back slightly within the passing breeze. She is posed standing just upon the snow against the white winter backdrop surrounding her with her head turned up slightly toward the sky and her face nicely out lined showing the rather strong line of her jaw, and delicate curve of her neck. Her lips are pursed together in a look of wonder, and one of her hands rests down at her side and the other arm is borught up so her hand is placed just against her chest in a light finger touch.

Drink

Serenity found

at the bottom of a bottle

where troubles seem to drown

steadily

drip

drip

drip

drop by drop

like liquid in an IV

it is too late

by the time you see

your own life is being

drained away

slowly it begins to fade

as old images in a sun worn photograph

faces once were familiar

now gone

it is not lightness that is felt

of bad memories washed away

but a heaviness

like stone

in which you sink

even faster far below

find yourself standing alone

drop

by

drop

I have just started reading The Silver Wolf by Alice Borchardt and so far it is pretty intresting, right now I am only a little into the thrid chapter but it seems like a good story thus far.

I really like the way each stanza has its own rhyme

I cannot breathe inside this box...

You've got my heart in silver locks.

Why have you gone from me?

For some reason this one in particualr sticks out to me

Empty Space

The darkness falls

in a quiet space

fill the emptiness

in silence serenade

Memories tinged

around the edges

made bittersweet.

Blurred is the vision

of images once painted

in the sunshine

But there is a tenderness

here that seems to loose

itself among colors and noise.

Peacefulness inspired

by these melancholy days

to close our eyes and

drift away.

Thank you, re-reading, I think you are right, it would sound better without that "to" there

Thanks for catching that for me, I always seem to have a habbit of leaving them out.

I must be in a wierd state of mind these days. As my work has been taking an odd turn, but here is another of my more odd piscies.

Fright

I have heard it said before

to a frightened child in the corner

that if monsters come

close your eyes and count

to ten,

they say it does not exist

does not exist

I would like to think

that I could close my eyes

and make the world go away

I thought I would try on one

dark day,

yet it still remains

still remains

So I am the child living

among nightmares

and ghosts, I imagine

they all point and laugh

with grim faces,

and I closed my eyes

closed my eyes

But they did not go away

everything is just the way

I had tried to leave it far behind

within my sleep reality

chases me,

wish I could shut it out

shut it out

This is so vivid, it turly paints a picture and the end in particular was turly gripping, and so sad.

The only thing I would suggest, is giving "The girl" a name, as the use of the words "the girl" and "her" throughout the story did become a bit redundent after a while.

frozen swamp pond,

This seemed a bit awkard, as swamps and ponds tend to be too sperate things. It might have been better to just say

frozen swamp,

or

swampy pond

But those are just little things. Overall, a great story.

"Well I first I had to hike up into the mountains, and find a spot within the icy snowy barren land to dig out a little snow cave for myself to keep wore, well I sat and waited. She is very shy in most cases you know and does not come out very often. I had to sit out for days in the snow, and was just staring to drift off to sleep when I saw something. A movement out of the corner of my eye. I grabbed my camra and waited and there she appeared.

Her skin is quite pale, she does not really get much sun you know. She rather dislikes it really, sensitive and such to the sunshine, and she has long flowing white hair and the most pericing blue eyes. Though they are tinged with sorrow from being so lonely and all. She wears a very lovely white gown, quite flowy in the wind.

Oh yes I almost forgot "

Digs around for a moment before pulling out a peice of parchment and sets it on the table.

"Here is the profile you requested"

Hair: very long, hagning slightly past waist level, chest nut colored. Usually worn in a braid to keep it out of the way.

Eye: Hazel

Basic charactertis: Full figured, voluptious, somewhat light skinned, with a bit of a tan. About 5'6.

Wardrobe: Favoers long flowing skirts, and peseant blouses with bell sleaves. Likes to wear lots of silver jewlary, espcailly rings. Usually does not bother wearing shoes. Is most found of the colors, green, blue, and purple.

Franny and Zoey is cool. I like Franny's story better than Zoey's. Salinger needs to get off that mountain or where ever he's currently hiding now and finish the Glass Family Saga.

I just finnised reading it, and it was intresting. I would have liked a little more of Franny's story, but I did quite enjoy Zooey.

You're really developing a knack for controlling the flow of a poem using line breaks. Very interesting. If it weren't done quite as frequently as you do it and with as much care it would definitely seem awkward. You are definitely staying on the tight-rope.

Thank you very much for that, it is most apperciated, and as always glad you enjoy and it is good to hear from you

This was quite intresting and enjoyable to read. Perosnally I like the inconsistency of the repeated last line, and the way it changes slightly with every verse, it was a unique way of presenting it I thought. For some reaosn this kind of made me think of the Grapes of Wrath

Lost Childhood

Remember those careless days

in the sunshine with sun tanned

bare feet kicking up the waterhole

Now lost it seems, as if within

a winter's haze, the seasons pass

just as fast as innocence begins

to wither away

Dreams blown upon the wind

like daffodil wishes

will they ever been seen again?

No longer chasing dragonflies

for dragons, or dancing with

the fairies.

The world seems to shrink

and nothing is quite as remembered

a favored tree appears less noble

It is a bittersweet realization

summer days loose their sacred

meaning and something is lost

that can never be regained.

Thank you for sharing that poem.

While yours maintains the same cyclical nature—from the earth all things rise and to the earth all things return—you seem to make the statement with far less negativity. This was a very nice effort indeed.

Thank you, it is nice to see I accomplished my intent, as I was hoping it would end up sounding negative.

Thank you it is a pleasure to hear from you. I am glad you enjoyed it

Fragile Warrior

A rose among the snow

last fading rebel

still holding on

long has its comrades fallen

wilting begins to encroach

yet it has not withered and died

brown tinges eat away

within the chill

color begins to pale

but with valiance

it still stands

wavering in the winds

bit by bit life drained away

soon it will fall

scattered like drops

of blood.

Weep not for the

defined blossom

while it shudders upon the stem

bravely it had made its stand

but now as all things

a time has passed

back into the ground

it must return

at last.

hehe yes I know what you meant, that is what I was refering to, sorry if I did not word it very well and did not make myself clear.

I really loved the first stazana and the comparison of writer/poetry to architecture, and building the foundations of a building. Some unique imagery I thought

It powders the mortar that binds us

I loved this line.

I really like the way the secound stanze was structured. And the first line

Poetry is a supernova!

I think really grabs the attention.

And I loved this

Where before only zombies dared dwell.

It has a very, "ghost observing the world" kind of feel. I can read it as either the literal ghost interpretation or as a person who is seeing the world through a ghost-like haze. Not sure which I like better at the moment.

That is an intresting way to look at it, and yes I can see where you would get that feeling, and well I suppose there are times when I do feel ghost like in my observations of the world, or of myself.

The one point that is a bit confusing to me, and perhaps you could help me out here, is the transition from second person plural to first person singular near the end. "to release our fears/so we must give into tears" becomes "I am the lost one/I am the fallen one". Is this an intentional shift or an oops?

It is more or less intentional, when I frist wrote this I was not really thinking about it but then when I decdied to strcututure into more of a poem, there was something about the affect of it that I liked, so I decided to leave it as it is.

Stumbles in teeth chattering and mumbling to herself as she dusts off a few left over flakes of snow from her coat, feeling the warmth of the Banquet room start to spread over she makes her way over to the hearth and shrugs off the coat to hang it on a peg on the wall before taking a seat. Rubbing her hands together a moment to help get warmed up for a few moments, and begins to feel sensation come back into her fingers once more before she pulls out a carefully kept folder and sets it upon the top of the table and opens it up to remove the photograph from inside.

"Well it was not easy, you do have rather difficult tastes."

She says as she glacnes up to the scaely beast for a moment and just mutters to herself and shakes her head. Wondering how she keeps letting herself get talked into these little escapdes to start with.

Well this one is a bit different, and a bit strange, and sort of abstract in nature. It started out as a stream of concious of sorts, but overall I liked it. Just made a couple adaptations to it.

The Lost One

There is no one here

to release our fears

so we must give into tears

bitter where they fall

searching through the wall

we all just float by upon the air

but I was left hiding behind the stair.

The cold comes for me

and yet I have embraced her

icy fingers, trying to drag me

down.

Flailing limbs hit the backside

but those watching eyes take all

in stride.

I am the lost one

I am the fallen one

Wonder where that door leads

down another unnamed floor

all these flowers

stacking coffins into towers

and there it is, that smirk

that tells all

and I know I have lost.