There's a playfulness behind the sinister wit of this one, Doc. Really hope you're not experiencing this first hand at the moment. They will get you, eventually. Maybe not a hospital, itself, but the thing living behind the hospital anyways.
J
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There's a playfulness behind the sinister wit of this one, Doc. Really hope you're not experiencing this first hand at the moment. They will get you, eventually. Maybe not a hospital, itself, but the thing living behind the hospital anyways.
J
Other than for a lay which should be a lie, and a query over how an unaccustomed state of dicklessness might be considered "normalilty", I rather enjoyed this Doc.
Live long and prosper - H
Something about the piecing together of this horrible, horrible concept in such a melodical word has ascended you to the next level, you god among men.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hawkman
J
Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
Thank you, Jack. I've escaped its jaws so far. But I was the smiling relative driving the car quite recently.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Hawkman
Lay - lie. I keep getting these wrong. Oh well - editing has now been applied.
Re: dicklessness -- I guess I was using it as a metaphor, and explained my idea of "normality" in the following couple of lines. But, really, when you come out with such an OUTRAGEOUS noun, who cares about the poem anymore! :)
Many thanks for reading, both.
Regards,
DH
Where on earth have you gone? Hopefully not to the hospital.
J
I've "discovered" your last thanks to Jack's note - excellent!!! and of much actuality to me for it almost "got me " a few days ago; though, wounded as I was I ran away, rather to die in the streets than to be part of the emergency ward's quirks...
Best to you two!
Bar
Poor Bar. Hang in there.Quote:
Originally Posted by Bar22do
J
What a beautiful series of poems. Some of them gritty and so real, yet still managing to be eloquent, with words placed with such care.
An oversexed Greek guy writes in english better than most Americans. Go figure. Read this one (first an original posting and then in the Favorite poems thread):
Quote:
'Beyond the falling comets and persistent stars' by DocHeart
Beyond the falling comets and persistent stars
Lies loneliness. A city sky's seen
Differently from there; stupidly courageous,
Mocking black nights with neon falsehoods.
A blueness, on the other hand, emerges
When one observes such skylines from the ground:
It is the very heaviness with which
Unskilled saxophonists sit on a gentle
Pianist's mouth.
From thirty thousand feet I watch you dance,
Smashing the fragile porcelain of our small romance.
Descending and observing from a shorter distance
Does nothing to alleviate your non-existence.
J
I'm not surprised.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
Knowing many from another mother tongue, the words chosen are often given more thought, even with pronunciation. :D
It also usually means much more work is put into it.
In a poem such as this, there is also a unique perspective and a play on words that is decadent.
Of these, "Hospitals" (#30) is my favorite. I also admire the diction and rhythm (as well as the imagery) in the your earlier verse about the comet which Jack copied and posted a couple of replies above.
In all of your poems, however, I absolutely love the blend of the lofty with the profane, especially your facility with colloquial venacular. All of your speakers (narrators) sound "real," like regular down-to-earth guys. You've got a well-tuned "ear."
I'm flattered to see folk still reading and commenting on these, especially since I haven't contributed anything new for a while. I guess I'm going through a slightly dry period, but there's no doubt I'll be back with more.
Thank you all for your input, and good health.
DH
I don't altogether agree with the above: I think we all measure "the distance" of any poem or poet by our inner, idiosyncratic notion of how distant any distance is, BUTQuote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
I commend JofH & envy DH for the impassioned reading of these poems that JofH undertook. Clearly he cares and cares very deeply for poetry in general and DH's poetry in particular.
That seems exactly right, Prince.
Maybe that's feedback that this poster wouldn't have given DocHeart or anybody today. At the time it was honest but maybe a little ignorant. All the feedback, all of his own poems and stories is really just this poster trying to come to grips with something. Theorizing or saying what there 'should be' in others' work is probably just that struggle manifested.
This poster is an imperfect writer, poet and giver of critique- and the more ge practices these things, the more he becomes aware of the imperfection. Or maybe it's just understanding better what perfection is and realizing how far you are away from it.
J
Raping Athena
These streets we walked,
Winding and falling
Into the ashes of the lives
Of skinny immigrants
And the whirlwinds
Of unemployed youths -
Their shattered neon lights
Are less and less a memory
Of time wasted over pool tables
And beer stains on school uniforms
And more and more
Of an uncertain monologue
Spoken by a senile Ulysses
Who somehow strayed
Into a cinema
Engulfed in dirty flames
Delivered with voicelessness.
The city says farewell, little by little;
Fewer and fewer familiar facades
To hang your once-upon-a-times on.
Perhaps you could make do
With that freshly amputated statue
Or that burned bus.
That corpse.