Sometimes

[lallison]

What sound,
the sheetrock

[Hawkman]

Well I see the pictures but apart from that I'm totally lost! Great descriptive writing,
I particularly liked:

"A long clock, a dim shadow,
the gray murk of a concrete day
swinging close like the tilt of a pendulum
brings about each tremendous tock,"

But I confess to being bafflled. Am I in a grave, a mine, an air raid shelter, a tunnel or a volcano? Perhaps I await the last judgement, aching for the day when the dead will rise.

Powerful but bewildering!

Best, H

[PrinceMyshkin]

"Laying" in l 3 should be "Lying".


nothing more or perhaps less than soil beneath the smear of it.

is a devastating line, as are the final two.

[lallison]

Thanks, guys. I was trying to experiment with something a little more abstract with "Sometimes". i don't feel like this is complete or the way I want it, but I was hoping to get a little feedback. appreciated.

[Jerrybaldy]

works for me in a literal sense, the pain of waking from slumber to reality, that bastard clock, ending sweet fantasy, even sweet nightmare, returning to all you slept to escape.
Bw
JB

[lallison]

Thanks, Jerry. That's exactly what I was going for. Glad it worked for you.

[Bar22do]

What ticks and clicks alarm anymore?

I don’t want to get out from bed.
Lying in aching stench of self
beneath an earthen womb, the sooty roots
pierce the roof, preparing the journey,
close but empty.

That sound, that sound,
the hum of it, it’s $h!t,
compelling the body to be
nothing more or perhaps less than soil beneath the smear of it.

A long clock, a dim shadow,
the gray murk of a concrete day
swinging close like the tilt of a pendulum
brings about each tremendous tock,
resounding in an echo, tock,
vibrating through the sheetrock
through the falsetto voice
a chorus that shakes us to earth.

What's worked for me here is the disturbing mood one's in upon just-awakening, bound to attend earthly matters... there's something very strong about it, lall, though I agree it can benefit from a bit of revising. In a way, your poem "completes" the Ampoule's last, sharing with it the atmosphere of blurred boundaries of slumber and wake, dream reality, ordinary reality... all set in the summer heat...
I enjoyed reading it, and the last image is simply great. Thanks lall, Bar

[lallison]

Thanks, Bar. I've had this one sitting around for a while and every now and again I add a little something or change it up a bit. Finally, I've gotten to a point where I feel it's not going anywhere, so I posted it here in hopes I could get some good ideas.

Here is one of my favorite poems of all time:http://www.cs.berkeley.edu/~richie/poetry/html/aupoem98.html It has some similarities in action and, if you took the time to read mine, you should definitely read this work of art.