just a description...

[annaswirls]

you are right
maybe is too description, filled with action.

I love that you think I am a crazy poet! I am blushing with pride!!!!

or

"no"

now that's an inactive, nondescriptive poem. maybe.

actually, "maybe" has poetic possibilities, but "maybe" only a crazy poet like me would think that.

of course you're a crazy poet, too, so you probably understand.

 

[Angeline]

you are right
maybe is too description, filled with action.

I love that you think I am a crazy poet! I am blushing with pride!!!!

Well of course you are. Me too. Lauren is the only sane poet here as far as I can tell...and I'm not so sure about her.

 

[annaswirls]

Well of course you are. Me too. Lauren is the only sane poet here as far as I can tell...and I'm not so sure about her.

oh rats, I thought maybe it was some sort of exclusive circle of crazy poets.



what the devil is getting into me!

 

[Tathagata]

Like this one:

A world of dew,
and within every dewdrop
a world of struggle
Issa

you quoting Issa makes my special purpose tingle

 

[Angeline]

oh rats, I thought maybe it was some sort of exclusive circle of crazy poets.



what the devil is getting into me!

craziness is a pretty inclusive thing in my experience.

 

[annaswirls]

you quoting Issa makes my special purpose tingle

tingle? oh darling that is a good start.

..........
.......... Never forget:

.......... Never forget:
.......... we walk on hell,
.......... gazing at flowers.
..........
..........

 

[Tathagata]

tingle? oh darling that is a good start.

..........
.......... Never forget:

.......... Never forget:
.......... we walk on hell,
.......... gazing at flowers.
..........
..........

I used that once:

Messenger

"In the midst of this world
we stroll along the roof of hell
gawking at flowers " - Issa



a crow,
it's braying hoarse cry ,
a black tentacle
reaching
through early December fog.

A fog the color of loneliness.

ears confirm
what the eyes can't see,
like my heart confirms
a thought from you.

Most would think it odd
the leftover wishes
of a man who won't grow up
to have an " animal friend",
a messenger of dreams
and warnings
and love.

But I,
open to anything
that will color the two tone world they've created,
embrace the idea.

For what is heaven and hell
compared to a black bird,
who sing love sonnets
from across the country,
for you, and you alone?

 

[wildsweetone]

This probably one of my only <guess what I am > poems
after reading the cage by neo
I embarked on this
descriptive poem
not with a mystery poem intent

but... what is it describing?
I had no idea when I wrote it that there would be a lot of feedback that was incorrect as to what I described <grinin> also there were some very correct views as well. But this is my 'descriptive' poem offering

silver slut
by My Erotic Tail ©

silvery slut

wide open

cup
runneth over

waste laced
on the corner

newspaper flies
from
wind and aroma

metalica coma

trashy basket case

sunglasses bottle o booze

yesterday's meal ticket

waiting waiting waiting

to be picked up!

is it a rubbish bin?

i too like neonurotic's Cages poem.

it's a description, but it's so much more. i can follow the flow of raindrops as i read.

annaswirls said: Rules are meant to be broken, but someone once told me to not use more than one descriptive word/phrase for each object/action-- and to be sparse with those adjectives/adverbs.

noted and i will try this to see how it feels. thanks

Angeline said: description can't have voice, movement, action?

yes it can. i think i was momentarily thrown off balance, but from what i've read (and written) in the last few days, voice, movement and action makes description come alive. thank you for asking that question and making me think.

WickedEve said: I like it, too. Reminds me of a poem I wrote 2 or 3 years ago. It's about a house being torn down and the human-like pain it feels.

do you still have this poem handy? i'd love to read it if you do, thanks.

Maria said: hell yes, Anna, dont tell me its a tree, make me feel that tree. Make those roots reach through my soles and pull my heart and twist it around a branch of that tree. Make me tree angry, branches slapping rooftops and winds howling through bare limbed skeletons of majestic oaks stuck in the throes of a waxing winter.

i hope its about a tree....

holy far out. interesting imagery Maria, thanks for posting!