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Thread: Losing My Place (Encore)

  1. #1
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    Losing My Place (Encore)

    This piece o verse dates back to circa January 2008. I thought ‘d repost since one of our fellow NitLetters informed me that he was experiencing the real estate siege described here. Apart from a couple of trochees and the occasional anapest imbedded in prepositional phrases, the meter more-or-less attempts to follow a 4-stress, iambic pattern. The rhyme scheme may appear bizarre, but the irregular appearance of end rhymes were intentionally designed to depict a sense of dislocation.




    Losing My Place

    Mere rent receipts belonged to me,
    in my own home a refugee,
    though no force occupied our town.

    The agent stated real command;
    she clicked her heels on hardwood floors
    while rifling closets, slamming doors.

    A warm salute, an offered hand
    for live ones, not the tenant --
    not trespassing, but still present --

    so very inconveniently,
    as that front elm’s effrontery
    defies its peeling bark to stand.

    I loved the thickness of its trunk
    and how its leaves held back the wind
    that felt the touch of hope in its crown.

    Oh, how I wish I still lived there,
    back in that old and scruffy chair,
    its angle bent like no man’s land.

    (Evicting rage, despair would flee.)
    With books, I used to mark the page
    with flowers that I pressed and saved

    from gardens I recall and crave --
    no doubt by now they’re plowed and paved,
    or like an unkempt lawn, mowed down.

  2. #2
    Maybe YesNo's Avatar
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    An interesting idea to mark a page with dried flowers.

    I liked the last stanza the best with the gardens "plowed or paved" or simply "mowed down". Of course, it is possible that a gardener moved in and planted more flowers, but gardeners are hard to come by.

  3. #3
    ..overall, I enjoyed..but,myself, I found the last 2 stanzas kinda weak..best of luck should you rewrite..sp

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    Brilliant as always, Auntie.

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    Thank you very much, YesNo, Spiros Zafiris, and Pompey Bum for your comments. Almost makes me what to start composing some new verses (instead of "composting" them.)

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    riding a cosmic vortex MystyrMystyry's Avatar
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    Absolutely Excellent!

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    Registered User Delta40's Avatar
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    I liked it very much aunty
    Before sunlight can shine through a window, the blinds must be raised - American Proverb

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    Yes, that's magnificent, Auntie. You have captured the mood and experience perfectly. I love the way the metre trips along and then clunks, shutting down like a tripped breaker, stalling the flow and leaving one with a sense of insecurity. And the imagery of conjured memory and loss—they don't come much better than this.

    Live long and prosper - H

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    Registered User tailor STATELY's Avatar
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    I still yearn for my boyhood home in NW Seattle; my parents uprooting the family so often after, my head still spins. I have only been evicted once due to the arrival of my daughter into the family (no children allowed) - a cold sterile place in Fremont, California during a contentious and trial driven time; with a memory of baby hamsters getting loose, a force majore, upon the premises (maybe that was the tipping point?).

    Your detail to poetics is amazing. Yes, please, more poetry.

    Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
    tailor STATELY
    tailor

    who am I but a stitch in time
    what if I were to bare my soul
    would you see me origami

    7-8-2015

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    Thank you MystyrMystyry, Delta, Hawkman, and tailor STATELY for your comments.

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