Snapshots

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Marie: Part 2 ½

This morning,
while waiting for Marie,
I met Nancy.

Make a movie out of that, firefangled! We could call it "Planet of the Aches".

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It's too bad Fellini is dead.

And me, miss priss,
egomaniac
who cannot stand to look at herself in the mirror
steps out into the day with a swish and a flourish
lusting for a part in one of your poems
or at the very least,
to be that one you never noticed till now,
the one in the background,
looking off somewhere,
holding her hot cup with both hands,
and you go back
and set up your camera
and wait.

Keep snapping.
Plenty of pages left in this photo album. :D

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Originally Posted by ampoule

And me....
holding her hot cup with both hands,

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Please! This is a family oriented site!!!

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Marie Part 2

I sat at an outdoor table at the café
waiting for Marie to come.
If she came it would have to mean
she had felt about our encounter
as I did. And that we’d have begun
something that each of us
had been waiting to begin.
While I waited
the temperature of the earth
continued to rise,
another glacier slipped into the sea
but she did not come.

I raised my eyes every time
I heard footsteps approach
and for a split second imagined
that every one who came into view
was her: an Oriental young woman
with a pony-tail, shoulders hunched,
wearing a close fitting summer coat,
a scarf pulled tight around her neck;

an older man, probably toothless,
his upper lip in close proximity with his chin,
face the colour and texture
of a tired rubber eraser;

a casually sloppy Greek guy
with close-cropped hair and a laughing
female companion, but none of them
was her, not actually her.

An entire species went out of existence,
a future poet was born,
a murderer, a saint,
but still she did not come.

There could have been 110 reasons
why she didn’t come, or just one:
that she saw no reason to...

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I loved your intense poetic expressions here in your poem Jerry. It's such a lovely piece which I've perceived deeply. It's a vibrant poem! Wow!

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

While I waited
the temperature of the earth
continued to rise,
another glacier slipped into the sea
but she did not come.

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

An entire species went out of existence,
a future poet was born,
a murderer, a saint,
but still she did not come.

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The above lines are really great. I loved it!
I really appreciate your poems as they are so intriguing and vibrant. Keep up your great works.:thumbs_up

An accident
might be the product
of 2-3 seconds of inattention,
like falling in love.

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

An accident
might be the product
of 2-3 seconds of inattention,
like falling in love.

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But it can take
what seems a lifetime of carefully designed intentions,
guarding against every slip of the tongue,
never allowing one's guard down for a moment,
to make up for one inattentive lapse
that led to two or three seconds
of loving.

Number xxxi, Marie Part 2 is very good. It's much like Waiting for Godot, writ small. The section referring to global warming is great, and it reminded me about something the late film critic Gene Siskel once said about
using world events as a backdrop in a good movie script:
the world whirring round outside as it's interpreted by individual characters.
One nit-pick: in line five of the second stanza "was her" should be "was she." Linking verbs, in this case the past tense of the verb "to be," takes the nominative case.

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Originally Posted by AuntShecky

Number xxxi...
One nit-pick: in line five of the second stanza "was her" should be "was she." Linking verbs, in this case the past tense of the verb "to be," takes the nominative case.

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You're absolutely right of course, grammatically, but not I think aesthetically inasmuch as this is someone thinking out loud and colloquially, I believe, most of us would use the accusative here.

Shaped like the shepherd’s crook
in his hand,
a bent old man
shambles across the street.

A street familiar
returns my nod
but saves his smile
for when he might actually need it.

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.

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This is GRAND. "Hugs the asphalt", this is grand.

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.

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A picture could not paint this scene any better. Awesome work. :thumbs_up

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.

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It's great Jerry! :thumbs_up

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal: 2

Two crows
stand beak to beak
over a split bag
of blood and guts
on the shoulder of the road.