|
Post by Aish on Sept 22, 2016 20:15:11 GMT -5
The golden form rises, dips, settling to hover just above memory:
words are meaningless. Heartbeats thunder like doves veins reach out as they did in the first womb
when all was tethered by anointed crochet.
In your constructed cave of drums and dancing flames bass lines are codices for the next level - flowing, undulating, pushing us into and out of the ether. Wholly engulfed, we become a reversal of our original forms. Re-born by your design, harmonic flood radiating from my jaws.
You intimated, but I didn't want to understand.
My bones no longer walk in front of me and kiss me goodnight, drinking forever but needing fire for release. So breathe with me here. Back in the moment, back to perfection.
Into the center. Into the dark spaces. Before you found me and forced yourself free.
Open your flaming eyes; I trust you to be my guide into the unknown. ***very raw work in progress. Honest critique appreciated.***
|
|
|
Post by twistedangel on Sept 23, 2016 1:18:32 GMT -5
OK well unfortunately for you as we a bit quiet here again you got me to crit it first...an is totally gonna be bad as I had to Google "vicarious"...not a good start lol
TBH the titles meaning surprised me a bit after me first read, I had mixed images of the womb, but also a neolithic cave...both dark yet comforting..safe.
The golden form...at first read I thought wos bad cos it seemed to describe somthing specific...now I think it's a good description...gold is precious, form still as yet to be created.
Are words unnecessary or are they meaningless as yet? I think there's a hint of rebirth in this...but am as spiritual as a brick most times, maybe you could argue as a child changes a woman to a mother...there is a rebirth going on? an mother is also shaman?
You once told me poetry should not only be a story, but somtimes to purley evoke images an emotions, this is how I've tried to read this peice...not try to get every single line, but how it makes me feel as a whole
I like it a lot ☺
I suppose the reader is left with the big question...how the f*ck did you manage to post it on the wrong side of the page !!! 😆
|
|
|
Post by Aish on Sept 23, 2016 12:02:30 GMT -5
Angel, I am non-plussed you arrived first. I never like to see this place barren, but you are a worthy adversary (er, poet) >.< (My attempts at humor may fail miserably. My funny bone was recently cremated). I changed unnecessary to meaningless. I think it is a much better fit. I like your musings and where they began, where they wound up. Thank you for embracing any evocation the piece elicited. Rebirth is a central theme, in multiple ways. Your thoughts on the golden form are beautiful and perfect. As for how I dropped this to the wrong side - I clicked on right align when I created the thread.
|
|
|
Post by LonelyForsaken on Sept 24, 2016 3:31:17 GMT -5
It’s good to see you writing again. It’s always a pleasure to experience the depths of you paint with words, despite the heartbreak shared. There is so much reference to soul, self, and the ties we invest so much of ourselves in. Vicarious is an interesting title. I tend to think of it as removed from the action but this really points out how much we live through those we love so closely. You may have just permanently altered the meaning of that word for me.
[“My bones no longer walk in front of me and kiss me goodnight” – That feeling, as if our bones where ripped out, leaving the body and soul sapped of all strength. I wish I could find words of balance, some comfort, but all I can think of is this virtual hug and these real tears that are blurring my vision. <Hhhhhuuuuuugggggggssssssssssssss>
S1 – I don’t think you need “hover” in this strophe. Rises and dips get us there and I love the last line as ; “…settling just above memory.” It strengthens the feel of a comfortable memory settling in.
The last two strophes feel kind of out of place to me. ]“Into the center. Into the dark spaces. Before you found me and forced yourself free.” This strophe has the feeling of endings but this; “So breathe with me here. Back in the moment, back to perfection.” is the final culminating plea. I don’t think you mean to imply this as the summation desired to be expressed but it fits so well. We miss them so damn much.
|
|
|
Post by Aish on Oct 7, 2016 14:30:37 GMT -5
My bones no longer walk in front of me and kiss me goodnight, - This refers to Braden being made from my flesh and bones, but I understand where and why you went the way you did. It isn't wrong.
The core of this piece is a memory, one of my fondest from our shared adulthood. As a poem, it is difficult to wade through, and honestly the point in time that sparked it would not mean the same to onlookers as it did to us.
Every point from you readers is kind of like a salve for me. I thank you.
I will spend some time refining the work. I'm happy to.
|
|
|
Vicarious
Oct 16, 2016 19:16:47 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by sevenseven on Oct 16, 2016 19:16:47 GMT -5
The rhythm of this is fine on its own, and while I am the most kind of wild about bizarre formatting, I guess I think some of the punctuation is kinda distracting.
|
|