Loki Wyrd

Happy birthday, crystal_marie411! I just wanted to say that I've enjoyed all our long discussions and strolls around the vernal pond. You shall always live on in my dreams. Please have my children, I beg of you! If not, can we at least adopt? Actually, let's wait until 18. Until then...

Thank you for the elucidation, I somehow overlooked that...must be I did not really look. Normally I would suggest italicizing 'look,' so that the emphasis on it helps clarify what you're trying to get across, but you already italicize the whole poem. Now I'm even more interested to see you posting again. I'll have to keep an eye out for you. Beware!

I also missed it on the first go around, but better late than never. Thanks Reverie, for bringing it back (and Lone Shadow, for writing it). To begin with, I think your first 2 couplets show some real merit, especially the 4th line. I was, however, unsure about the 5th line. It seems to me that you're just stating the obvious with the imperceptible bit. I think I see what you're going for, but perhaps you could find an alternative way of saying it? Finally, I very much like how you spring that last line on us, and the 4th couplet works well as a thruway to it. In short, I like it. Post more often. Oh, one more comment, after having looked over it again: I think the 3rd couplet needs to specifically mention something about the feather, as otherwise it seems like you bring it out in the open, and then you forget about it for a while until you're ready for it to serve your purpose. Are the ripples attributable to the feather or the wind? It's a strong piece, I just think that one couplet could use some work. Sorry about being so long-winded (bad pun).

I like these, they're clever.

Eyes are watering the depths of thick carpet kicked at by feet-- white-orbed dandelions burst in whirlwinds left to wake as clouds of agitation, rendering one's beliefs to fruit of invention there to partake.

Sorry, I can't help but~~>

when a fluke brushes against a lightbulb powdery wings ignite with a gradient of thought emanating in a plangent hum

Cheers!

I liked the last one the best. I particularly liked the how you used "some force pulls you" and "breathing life into each other."

turtle soup

Hoary bird, staring out at me from the eyes of the burlap sack you're perched upon: nevermind the shrug of your companion, for your solidarity he is thankful. Because we know I am passing.

Gryphon: Just be what you are, if people don't want to accept that, then it's their loss. What you don't want to do is start comparing yourself to others. You know better than anyone what you have to work with, and it will be different than the next person. Consider what's important to you, and walk with that as your foundation. P.S. I practically don't know anyone here. What better reason not to like them?

Discarded words, fallen from grace atop a flat surface, riddled with scars of moments of anger constricted in a downward thrust. Splintered syllables ending in a cold thud.

Happy bday to 3.

not me Gryphon, of course, is right. How could he be wrong?

Executions in washable marker Proscribing our attributes with unsteady scrawl Abstract smudge upon these hands Emollient supplication to discordant fear

"Why don't you come into my office real quick," his boss said, walking all over his perfectly good dreams. How was it that he was always being bothered in his life? The dilemma, as he saw it, was that he didn't have any mustard for his sandwhich. There was seemingly a plethora of condiments, but nothing that he could actually remember having used before. Of course they were all open. Catching the tail-end of a conversation he was quite sure he'd forgotten already, he smiles agreeably. Not another word need be spoken, he concludes--the day nowhere near over. His shoes were off, even though it was 50 degrees out. The snow had melted and the road had turned into a thick, squishy mud. He thinks of frogs as he buries his feet.

While there was a man talking up front, somewhere in the back lurking was our character. Softly gliding down corridors, and extracting the sublime into harsh ultraviolet. Diffused into the atmosphere.

Happy 27day.

Revision: Capacity of 1 He swims with wide, swift strokes Forcing the water to follow His face laps against its friction Malcontent rapping against his lungs The pungent taste of chlorine bites at his nose The fetid miasma lingers in his mouth Invariably Trying to stay abreast of the slough's ebb And swimming with wide, swift strokes against its flow

I don't believe in autoformat, nor will I stand for it. Capitalizing the initial letters was really but an arbitrary decision, no hidden meaning--this time. I tend to agree with you about lines 4 and 6. I probably could just drop fetid and viscous and say just as much; it's just some words hold a certain glammer for me. If I changed 'fetid smell' to 'scent', do you think that would be an improvement?

An Amorphous Pause Sacramental stumps of ashen cigarette butts Deposited on the toilet seat. Lilliputians embark in consuming themselves As penance for their sins, while scrutinized Continuously by their chosen immortal things.

He swims with wide, swift strokes Forcing the water to follow His face laps against its friction Viscous malcontent rapping against his lungs The pungent taste of chlorine bites at his nose The fetid smell of decomposition gnaws at his mouth Invariably Trying to stay abreast of the slough's ebb And swimming with wide, swift strokes against its flow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Furrowed in a bed of hair, lachrymose thing of wan appeal, saturated by glabrous stares lunging for their dollar's worth. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~