Poetic Horizons - Child of

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Dec 8, 2009, 5:17am

Poetic Horizons :: Poetry :: Poems in Progress/Thorough Critique Wanted & Poetry Discussion :: Child of

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Topic: Child of (Read 39 times)

jeannerené
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Winter's Rose
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Child of
« Thread Started on Oct 30, 2009, 10:26pm »

concrete ...

Click (work in progress-thoughts jotted tonight)
My heals
rush to the rhythm click, click
Sorry, closed. We're closed.
Going home, click
Come back, back
tomorrow
Going home
home very incomplete intro/just some initial thoughts

My shadow falls along side the jagged horizon.
My impressions remain under
window vignettes inescapable, unavoidable
pressing contact,
communication with the mortal condition,
intruding on obligatory daydreams.
The mortar secures
my visage cracked, something, something wrinkles of camaraderie,
cohesions of war and peace and dinner debates.

I am the warmth of streetlight,
its halo hovering above saint and demon.
(I have a thought here but not found the right wording yet to go with...)
and thin walls vibrating with multiply heartbeats.
I suffer … stoop under wags of something tongue,
to answer in lonely testimony liberated into the dark abyss.
Crying, crying at the poetic laughter of derelict lovers,
and the coo of babies drifting with the dust of ventilation, I settle, I recline.
I rise to the wink of flirtatious matriarchs leaning on sooty sills,
sashaying their hips in accompaniment to evening recitations
strummed upon the underbellies of something cicadas … and I move

by way of masses on summer trails of blistering boulevard
asphalt lakes, ribbons amalgamate mortality
putty and plaster
sand and solder
fused … I am fused and I move

… never on a whisper,
(I have a thought that follows here/my mind has not connected with the words yet)

in the presence of bobbing umbrellas
admiring the shine of petroleum prisms.
Puddle jumping to the rush of sunset,
to timepieces set on analogs of hours traversed in measures of highway,
calculations of conferences
and the shade of high rise … I move
Somewhat a jumble of thoughts - I'll get to it

parade through our humanity, inhumanities, the pulse, the pulse, the pulse
pounded on the pavement.
I am the child of byways, sown into the cement
flesh of the multitude
and the backward glance into the alley,
the augmented 5th suspended above the sidewalk,
the tail of the shooting star drawn behind the skyline

dissolving into the infinitesimal speck,
grain of sand, polished sediment pressed under my weight
into the generations

I am mettle of metropolis,
the sweet seduction of city stuck to the bottom of my shoes

.... far as I got ... unfinished and not to my liking yet

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thoth
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of Deserts and Mountains

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Re: Child of
« Reply #1 on Nov 9, 2009, 2:36pm »

I like the feel of this already Jean!

The ending has not yet evolved. Be sure to keep it on a short leash lest flowery verse steals the show.

Not sure what you are actually looking for in critique at such an early stage but I will give it some thought and come back later. Tomorrow has sneaked in, catching me sleepless yet again.

Hugs,

Wally

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Eve Palmer - The plains of Camdeboo.

jeannerené
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Re: Child of
« Reply #2 on Nov 13, 2009, 10:34pm »

Thank you Wally for reading. I just felt I should post and get some motivation. I'm glad you liked it at first reading.

I've so little time to write ....... I was hoping to get back to this piece sooner but time keeps escaping me as well.

So good to see you here!!!

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rocha
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Re: Child of
« Reply #3 on Nov 15, 2009, 6:55am »

I enjoyed reading this ....although it has not been pulled together yet the theme is very clear and there are some fine lines to read. If it's advice you seek then I would offer a suggestion ....give the reader a little bit more mundane structure to hold onto.
( btw...my poetical advice is not always sound) So good luck .:)

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