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Plagarized by the Sun
Plagiarized by the Sun
In the winter of my 26th year,
death crawled beyond my willing reach as
breathless collisions formed images of young girls tied to sand
as fresh air bled from their slightly open mouths;
as I crammed hate in cold lakes under thick mud
algae crusted ice and wet, wet fog
and plucked ignorance ripe and ready, and somewhat heady,
fresh from American orchards.
But that was before I knew all that.
Back when I was still impressed by boys
trying to plagiarize the sun to shine some light on me;
before I'd gone through enough men to leave me
staggering, leave me breathless, leave me cold.
Leave me lying: always trying
to fill the silence, to ward off the anger,
to put myself to good use.
Lest my inadequacies be used
against me.
Before I knew silence so heavy with hatred
it weighed me down, left me crouching
in corners: smell of charred flesh in my nose,
shielding my face from the blows.
Convinced nobody knows
and nobody wants to
know me: little old, dirty old me.
Shamefaced and surprised
at your continued attention.
Did I fail to mention
there's something wrong with me?
Did I fail to express my utter worthlessness:
fail to state that I don't
deserve this?
Don't deserve these moments of bliss.
Don't deserve your kiss: the feel of your lips
pressed to mine, your hands anchoring my spine,
grounding me in this time.
Yet, I want your mouth
wide with breath, your flesh warm with
blood, your hands harsh with aching.
I crave your reality, your softly scented skin;
just for a day, a minute, an hour.
And something hands itself to me
but I don't take it: fearing my future
holds only more of my past.
Nothing's built to last;
it all goes by so fast.
See, I can smell the world your in
but no matter how far I bend
I just can't
reach it.
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Comment by: Beck - 2006-08-02 15:42
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| I loved this poem... it feels to me more like a thought process than a piece of poetry. I think that is why it may appear to some to be disjointed. Although I found it flowed nicely and wasn't a struggle to read at all. I think you captured the feeling that inspired this poem extremely well. On the shelf. |
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Comment by: jkaber - 2006-07-27 10:11
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There's a lot packed into this poem. I have to agree with Ron in part. I think the first two stanzas are throwing this poem off (beautiful as they may be). I think they need reworking to make them clearer and to connect them better to the rest of the poem which flows quite well.
A few minor details:
But that was before I knew all that. = I would take off the "all that" - not clear & not needed
little old, dirty old me. = I would take out the repetition of "old", maybe put in something like "stupid" instead.
You have a really nice, free use of rhyme & near-rhyme in this poem that makes it flow quite easily.
And I can relate to the sentiment so well! |
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Comment by: Teri - 2006-07-26 13:44
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A few suggestions (I saw your bulletin):
You may wish to replace the word "as" in the latter two uses in the first two stanzas with something else. It gave it too much of a run-on read (this is something I do constantly and it's been brought to my attention).
Last stanza - your should be you're
A few of the line breaks were a little awkward, but nothing fatal.
I love the treasures you hide throughout this poem. The half rhymes and internal rhymes - they add so much. Your images are exquisite.
The title is nice as well, but as Euripides suggests, you may wish to make this a scent-based title. There are threads of aroma and odor throughout, and I think it would add so much - put an emphasis on this accent.
Wonderful work - raw and powerful, emotional yet vivid in imagery and sense-awakening phrasing. Thank you for this. :) |
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| Scents have been proven to be the stronget and fastest conjourer of our memories. So to be true to the poem I would be inclined to derive a title from either the sand or the algae, combined with the sense of smell. |
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| This poem seems to be really disjointed, starting out one way and ending on an entirely different note. Either that, or you left out some critical transition in the middle of it. |
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