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Thread: (PENANCE)....Prose? Poetry? Prose poetry? Neither?! You decide!

  1. #1
    Sweet farewell, Good Nite
    Join Date
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    2,336

    (PENANCE)....Prose? Poetry? Prose poetry? Neither?! You decide!

    Life moves like a circle
    The circle hangs patiently above
    A mother's womb
    High above a pale blue ocean
    Where seagulls cry like a newborn baby's open
    Mouth, thrown from the illumined water
    The fragrance of blue baby eyes
    and the baby smile
    Don't cry now child,
    Mom must rest, rest
    Mother's weary, dark, and cold
    hear the pain flow
    While father prays for forgiveness
    "Draw the curtain, she needs rest."
    'Rest,' so oft-invoked,
    and 'school, school baby child
    Turn left, then right, go round back
    To the red brick building with the
    Gold Cross on the door
    Bold, like Martin Luther
    The world waits
    You're a special child
    Special, gregarious, and smart
    Pretty and sweet
    Just like mother
    Waiting tables for a dime

    Smell the aroma loom 'cross street
    Little Italy in the house where Grandma
    Holds a lit cigarette
    that pillows between wrinkles and
    a pale yellow curtain draped back
    peering eyes through the porthole of
    a frosty, living room window, fading
    The child wild and alone
    Delicious moment on the eyes
    Moving along, one human motif
    in space and time
    Grandma will teach you death someday baby child
    O' smile baby, smile to make me laugh
    to make this all better
    Around and round the circle baby goes!
    When grown, across

    Marred earth tattered black and whites
    Football cheers in flight
    Blonde, porcelain-faced gal wearing dad in locket
    Gazes on a stadium electric
    #44 with white helmet
    A father, yet
    Fatigued in room with buzzing
    Machines, mint green gowns, gurgling TVs
    A sea of blank faces
    In the waiting room a boy sighs,
    But hes a man
    She was nearby
    Both enraptured in a midnight reflection
    The shape of a halo
    Or was it the song of the circle
    All the while

    Wherever you are
    It conspires to conceal itself
    The secret of the circle...a sole, pale arc
    Burns with grace and hope,
    Grief and magic stars high above
    To which we open ourselves
    Naked, willing, swaying
    Over the abyss
    One roaring, eternal flame
    Last edited by jon1jt; 03-05-2006 at 01:55 AM.
    "He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
    ---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll

  2. #2
    dreamer genoveva's Avatar
    Join Date
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    Quote Originally Posted by jon1jt
    You're a special child
    Special, gregarious child, and smart
    Pretty and sweet
    Just like mother
    Waiting tables for a dime
    This is a really nice prose poem. I especially like the above lines. Consider omitting the second "child" after the word "gregarious. And maybe that second "Special" too.

    All the wonderful details really make your poem work. Consider playing around with the format.
    "I have so often dreamed of you that you become unreal." ~ Robert Desnos

  3. #3
    Oh Jon
    your words swept me away. I loved each part for its own magic
    but what gave me butterflies and memories of my childhood-
    walking all the way from the British school as a tiny girl to the Italian section of town to wait patiently and shyly in a little red fake leather booth for my auntie to finish working in the kitchen of Gino's as chef.
    I always ordered the same-hamburger, fries and a coke(my grown up treat once a week)
    And all the Italian families busy, laughing and talking at once as they ate and drank.
    The grandma and grandpa the revered heads of each little party, circles of white smoke above their heads as they smoked and talked and laughed.
    oh the beautiful memories. I like the rythmn and the way every now and then a word jerks you to another thought and well. thank you Jon

  4. #4
    Sweet farewell, Good Nite
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Posts
    2,336
    You both are too kind and I owe you for your time. I promise that if I have my way and publish anything that yields a substantial return in the next two years, I'll send you a nice percentage or will donate a portion to a charity of your choice and take you on a trip around the world. Deal?
    Last edited by jon1jt; 03-05-2006 at 02:20 AM.
    "He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
    ---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll

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