Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,191
Happy Friday. I'm going to start with one of yesterday's new poem postings that I really liked in addition to darkmaas's ode to his cosmically odd beloved. (Can you imagine *her* trying to buy a bra --or 10--at the local mall?)
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Skin by Icingsugar
Neck
arched, strained,
kissed, licked, bitten
coated by rain, grass
and strands of hair
Some poems I think cannot be fully appreciated unless read aloud. Such was the case for me with Skin. Say this poem aloud and you'll see: it is a sensual tour de force, spare in its layering of brief descriptive words and phrases, but precise diction and attentive to the most minute detail. This is a beautifully subtle erotic poem.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok. On to the 19th.
Being on a Bike by OT
OT took a loooong bike trip and did an illustrated poem about it. I love the photo, which I think is very well integrated with the poem. You really get a sense of how landscape stretches out for the rider; the goal ever distant and the rider not whizzing by like someone driving a car, but more focused on detail (like the gravel at the shoulder). OT's carefully constructed words articulate both that and the transitory nature of passing by. These illustrated poems can be much harder to put together effectively than one might think (huh OT
), but it all works here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cure by tis_mina
Two broken halves of the same key
Made to unlock the beast in me
Abused or adored, I am not sure
For are the disease and both are the cure.
Cure could really benefit from editing, imho--there are a few lines where meaning gets pretty muddied, which unfortunately is that much more obvious in a short poem. But this sort of thing is cosmetic compared to the poem's strengths--voice and thoughtful insight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wraiths by RazzRajen
Speaking of insight--um, Razz has it. Again. And maybe I do, too, because this poem touched me with its odd mix of wonder and resignation. Razz writes this theme beautifully and this poem, as many of his do for me, paints a vivid image of someone who appears still and yet holds inside a universe of thought that moves as deliberately and delicately as ballet. Lovely.
The song of the thrush trills in My ears
Whispers of the late flower
fill My mind
Heady, intoxicating
sleep comes finally
filled with thoughts,
images
and the haze, clearing
walks through a wraith
smiles and Holds My hand
Takes Me away
finally
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok. I saved it for last because it has been noted already and because I needed time to absorb it, but Denis Hale's Viagra Sky is amazing. I've described his poetry as feeling like flying down a highway in a fast car, but this is a hallucinogenic of a write (not that *I* would know what that's like, having spent my youth in a nunnery). This poem is so textured, with so many layers that merge and separate and merge again--the sunset, the man who limps literally and figuratively, the high-paid whore and the desperate reading of poems to make it all happen. And underneath it all, human suffering at being, well, human.
Then he backs off
into the middle of the room
windmilling the funny-looking
funneled thing
in the manner
of a Tarmac Jumpsuit with glowstick
trying to stop the impossibly
horny red sky from getting off
without him
making jack-off gesticulations
in vain attempts to bring
the mother in
as it were
for a safe landing
Read this poem and see if you can figure out whether you want to hold the narrator and tell him there's still love out there somewhere or smack him and say snap out of it. I can't, but I tell you Denis, if you can't get a book contract with what you've been posting lately, some publisher needs his or her head examined.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peace. Have a great weekend everyone. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Skin by Icingsugar
Neck
arched, strained,
kissed, licked, bitten
coated by rain, grass
and strands of hair
Some poems I think cannot be fully appreciated unless read aloud. Such was the case for me with Skin. Say this poem aloud and you'll see: it is a sensual tour de force, spare in its layering of brief descriptive words and phrases, but precise diction and attentive to the most minute detail. This is a beautifully subtle erotic poem.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok. On to the 19th.
Being on a Bike by OT
OT took a loooong bike trip and did an illustrated poem about it. I love the photo, which I think is very well integrated with the poem. You really get a sense of how landscape stretches out for the rider; the goal ever distant and the rider not whizzing by like someone driving a car, but more focused on detail (like the gravel at the shoulder). OT's carefully constructed words articulate both that and the transitory nature of passing by. These illustrated poems can be much harder to put together effectively than one might think (huh OT
), but it all works here.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cure by tis_mina
Two broken halves of the same key
Made to unlock the beast in me
Abused or adored, I am not sure
For are the disease and both are the cure.
Cure could really benefit from editing, imho--there are a few lines where meaning gets pretty muddied, which unfortunately is that much more obvious in a short poem. But this sort of thing is cosmetic compared to the poem's strengths--voice and thoughtful insight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wraiths by RazzRajen
Speaking of insight--um, Razz has it. Again.
And maybe I do, too, because this poem touched me with its odd mix of wonder and resignation. Razz writes this theme beautifully and this poem, as many of his do for me, paints a vivid image of someone who appears still and yet holds inside a universe of thought that moves as deliberately and delicately as ballet. Lovely.The song of the thrush trills in My ears
Whispers of the late flower
fill My mind
Heady, intoxicating
sleep comes finally
filled with thoughts,
images
and the haze, clearing
walks through a wraith
smiles and Holds My hand
Takes Me away
finally
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok. I saved it for last because it has been noted already and because I needed time to absorb it, but Denis Hale's Viagra Sky is amazing. I've described his poetry as feeling like flying down a highway in a fast car, but this is a hallucinogenic of a write (not that *I* would know what that's like, having spent my youth in a nunnery). This poem is so textured, with so many layers that merge and separate and merge again--the sunset, the man who limps literally and figuratively, the high-paid whore and the desperate reading of poems to make it all happen. And underneath it all, human suffering at being, well, human.
Then he backs off
into the middle of the room
windmilling the funny-looking
funneled thing
in the manner
of a Tarmac Jumpsuit with glowstick
trying to stop the impossibly
horny red sky from getting off
without him
making jack-off gesticulations
in vain attempts to bring
the mother in
as it were
for a safe landing
Read this poem and see if you can figure out whether you want to hold the narrator and tell him there's still love out there somewhere or smack him and say snap out of it. I can't, but I tell you Denis, if you can't get a book contract with what you've been posting lately, some publisher needs his or her head examined.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peace. Have a great weekend everyone.
Last edited:
dh
Simply put, I saw a fox cross the road. He and I made eye contact, and I had the impression he was pissed off for some reason—lucky him, I could've ran him over intstead 
