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Hey Dear Doc, it's been ages...
Love your latest poem very much, its almost kabbalistic way of you being revealed by words (as if) independent of you, though coming from within you, as if an intuitive (female) voice whispering to you about you, sharing with you your life's unfolding (?), as words come, as the night progresses... So subtle.
For me, "darkened" has its place in the line, as it enables the transformation and later provides an address to your call for "dear darkness" to tary...
I'd too lose the final "on schedule", for it'd strengthen even more the ending which, for me at least, is not without reminding Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises," whether consciously or not...
The poem is restrained (in description), but so generous through its freedom away from schedules and phonecalls!
Thank you, I'll return to this one again.
Bar
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At parts, this poetry is unbearably beautiful, to where your eyes have to peel from the lines as not to take too much in too quickly.
Put the women down, Doc, and put new poems up.
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To my mother
Do I cry for you,
Or for the Years?
You know the Years I'm talking about.
They danced past us,
Barefoot on the beach
And left us scorching in the sun
Freezing in the snow.
They were funny Years,
Fast like escaping rabbits,
Full of unspoken love
And postponed embraces.
They killed you
And made me
An attention whore
On the Literature Network.
Mother, I promise you,
I weep not for the Years,
But for me.
I'm being selfish again,
Just as I was when pestering you
For another coin
For the Space Invaders machine.
Stay, wait for me.
I've booked the first flight home.
You've left now. Goodbye.
We're smithereens in an explosion,
And you went out before me,
As one might have expected.
When my sparkle too is extinguished
I'll look for you in the ash.
Should I find you, be ready:
I'll beg you for your blessing once again.
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You are here, Doc! And with this sublime poem... I dare not ask if it is a recent beverement. Your poetry defies Years, and this poem is a blessing you beg for...
"When my sparkle too is extinguished
I'll look for you in the ash"
Thank you,
Bar
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"When my sparkle too is extinguished
I'll look for you in the ash."
Beautiful. Sorry for your loss, Christos.
J
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Beautiful poem, DocHeart.
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Hello,
would it be possible for me to post one of my poems here again at a
different corner of this forum ? My poem is at least dystopian by it's language
of mind concept from the final days of WW2 out of the perspective nihilistic
fatalists had sometimes in their bunkers. It is definitly not my propose to idealize their
politics, or ideology. I am german, but I am not a racist or something else like that. I only
intend to make their kind of symbolism visible by the thoughts and feeling that kind of war is
able to produce in form of metaphores and allegories created with their own inhuman language
hidden behind their form of paganism and rituals. So it evokes a dark, nearly apocalyptic atmosphere of
fear, madness and their concept of valid sacrefice til death is no longer far away. These words here, can be perhabs
something like an idea, what my sense is, in terms of a psychological meaning. I think that should be enough for a preface.
I really hope that nobody will blame me for my form of art. It is not political in any way.
Kind regards
August Guelfen
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I would be interested in reading your poems. You might want to start a new thread where you can post your poetry.
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'Years/ Fast like escaping rabbits'
Wonderful! :)
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