I spoke with the wind.

[holograph]

thank you for your kind words. the poem has left the building.

[thevintagepiper]

That is beautiful. I love how at first glance it is nonsense, but in reality it isn't. It sounds like lyrics from Eisley or The Shins. I love it! Well done.

[holograph]

thank you bunches for your kind words. usually when i read my poetry to someone, they walk away scratching their heads. im glad at least one person understood.

p.s. i love the shins.

[jon1jt]

Overall, I like the poem, holo. I was able to follow it on one read. It's clear, you paint some really nice imagery and I see talent in your writing. Once you delve into the condition of the child, the mood becomes somber and the dreary clouds cast their shadow and play their role effectively. I also like how you juxtapose the child against the world/sky and the final two lines put the brake on the adult's concern. The spacing and separation between "Now." and the last line is human all too human in that the adult acknowledges the despairing time of the child and yet strives to move on, as is life. I've highlighted those lines that grabbed me.

Ahem...I noticed in the piece you submitted for the poetry contest last week and this poem have some things in common worth mentioning. First, you really like to bracket words, phrases, and whole stanzas, presumably to punctuate the poem's alternating voices? The brackets have the tendency to crowd space and suffocate the work over time, especially that you seem to like to keep your lines to only three/four words. Second, the same can be said about the number of questions you pose, which has the god-awful tendency to alienate or disconnect the reader, or me. To be honest, they're annoying as hell. I understand why you feel you need to use them, but you can create the same feeling without the top heavy questioning. Interesting is that the poem poses questions for which it has no answers and yet it seems to be an expert on band-aids not mending a bleeding soul. And lollipops. The questions themselves are arbitrary, don't you think? Is it the scary sky, child? Is it that you have no ice cream, child? Is it the birds? the lime infinity?...huh? Is the child just a damn cry baby? Lastly, the hypenated "s" in the first stanza throws the rhythm from the get go. What's the point? This must be your own creation because I've never seen anything like it. Perhaps you developed a new poetic device?

Most important of all, holo: Take what you can from me and discard the rest! Or, simply discard it all! Just keep, keep writing.

Only the spiky green from
the tree leaves contrast
-s the heavy white sky.

[impenetrable. wistful.]

And the sharp corners of
the brick apartments prick
into the bitter mess
[that are the clouds].

Why do you cry, child?

[did the birds fly
north and leave you
here alone?]

Why do you sob?

[did the sky open up its
meaty black jaws and
encumber you with its
sharp toothed grief?]
I REALLY LIKE THE SECOND PART OF THE STANZA ABOVE. WELL DONE, HOLO.

Is it ice-cream you want?

[or the lime infinity to eat
until the carton’s empty?]

You know, a band-aid
won’t help to cover those
lonely twin gashes
where your salty
soul trickles down
[and meets its cold demise].

Then.

Evaporates.

And the world is too cold
for that thin jacket of
yours.

I regret, child.
I regret.

And you know, lollipops will
only stick to your insides
[and make you a flytrap].

Turn around, child.
Face the sky.
Do you see the end?

Only the spiky green from
the tree leaves contrast
-s the heavy white sky.

Now.

Put on your scarf.

-alina

[holograph]

jon, you are amazing. thank you.

now to answer some of your questions:

when i write, i write according to an internal rhythm i have. i must follow those subjective invisible guidelines that exist within me or else my poems are worthless to me. i also believe that a poem is an art form within itself. once the poet has written it, it no longer becomes his own. it becomes a vessel with infinite interpretations, all equally valid. therefore, all your critiques are perfectly valid.

to address the comments,

brackets: yes, i love them. i feel the need to use them. it is something i decided to use only lately. i have many poems without them and many with them. it is like a box i use to entrap ideas. treat brackets as very important punctuation points.


questions-yes, hehe, they are annoying. that is the feeling you get from reading so many at once? perhaps there is a point to it all: i use the questions to vex the reader. to create a tone with a bit of harshness and cynicism. that is a slight hint, you can say.


the poem is one big symbol. one big box. one big, no rhyme intended, paradox.

i will submit another. perhaps you will enjoy it. once again, thank you dearly jon.

[jon1jt]

I agree entirely with what you said. Right on, never violate what you feel works because ultimately it's your creative center painting with words. The brackets and questions are a trademark of your poetry, some of it, and that too is wonderful. I tend to be a prose-y poet using quotes, character development, and not all readers are going to like that either. So, just to let you know, I'm with you on all counts. And by the way, I do sense the tone of cynicism in your questioning style. Well done, captain my captain.