poetry critical

online poetry workshop

"Porty Crystal", the Mistress from "Kampuchea"

Khmer – witness of
her first (in)articulation.
Cardamom and Elephant(s) – crib
of the descendant…Porty Crystal.
Beauty’s here, finally…
A fragile creation.
But at nine, she’s only seven.
At eighteen, she’s still sixteen.
Her senses, seven - though never exact  
were perfectly sculpted
by fifty hands and others unknown
to be away from Hue…yes, from You.
Her domain’s one
of those offering gold
for less than a penny (royal tea?)  : )
but greater than any.  
A veil of no form nor color
She wove for years without rest
her be(a)st - the only piece she had
but had never used.
A runaway (was) “made-then”
hungry for words -
words buried with a million and a half (at least)
with “jean(s)-no-side”
Hue…yes, You
used to hurdle horizons
both vertical and  (what’s the other one?)
Only to have the lady I call myself.
But soon their tips became loud
spoken English and French
even Chinese (to some extent)…
were noise to me, but a hymn to Hue.
And failure was too cowardly
pushing its rival upfront.
With quite a few attempts
Hue is out to find her – his mistress.
While Hue calls it a struggle (not with, but for her)
A continuous one
His “axe-scent” lost its charm
Finding her on a greener utopia.
Enjoying no USe of language not native
Paul – or “Pol” to many – offered her a Pot of gold
On Rouge carpet welcoming
The two-time mistress with “them (-who-cry-see)”.
A mistress to Hue once
a mistress to Paul in ’75.
But twenty-four hours was enough for the latter
To create a two-Ton(le) flood(ed) for Thom and Sap.
As movements slowed down
from 4:00am until 10:00pm
Porty desires no more of any organ
that composes infamous literatures.
When all else was exhausted,
again, a runaway (was) “made-then”.
As she ignores the “Marx(ism)” of his fists
His "poet-rate" splits her thoughts to hundreds.
On her prolix journey, halfway through
every 10th hour was an hour for rest.
Her feet were dragged towards the north and west
to find refuge on the soils she calls “Thy-land”.
With time passing unnoticed
natural“Vietnam-ins” nourished her again
Wiped the dirt off, then-unused veil
now used in Paris in ’89.
Porty Crystal…a mistress no more
her strength is “Ankored” yet not
on her own (A)oral finesse
but still on tongues of languages not hers.
Her voice, ushered by Southwest monsoon,
made Hue vanish leaving scribbled cries
and caught Paul unarmed for  (heart) attack,.
Now she can entice more…13,995,904 is her target.

* metaphor overload as inspired by fractalcore

some pronunciation clues:

Porty Crystal -- Poetry Critical
Kampuchea -- Computer
poet-rate -- portrait

15 Apr 08

Rated 10 (10) by 1 users.
Active (1):
Inactive (1): 10, 10

(define the words in this poem)
(15 more poems by this author)

(1 user considers this poem a favorite)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha


ooh, this is very complex, happymole.

one can get lost in it if he doesn't know his way around.
i notice you use 7 senses in |10 instead of 5. you must
be referring to the chakras instead of the ordinary senses.

some human sentiment masked in a colorful historical account
and your very own creativity with words, hitting different bird
species with a solitary meteorite -- a feat that i never could have
done myself. you're very much speaking in your own voice here
and that's amazing.

this is your best work so far and i must say a good number of
my pieces pales in comparison.

thank you so much and please keep on writing more of this kind.
: )
 — fractalcore

nice reference to Nirvana's "Pennyroyal Tea" in |16.
: )
 — fractalcore

Yup...seven senses...that's the least that I am familiar with...who knows if there could be more, right?

I dunno what went into my mind why I came up with this...I've been feeling so low through the years, even lower/lonelier today.  And my only way to show the emptiness in me is by coming up with some lines either for poetry or music.

I've given so much of myself to this man but I know he needs to have his freedom so he can further evolve and be what/who he wanted to be.  And the sad thing is, my rival here is indispensable.  Guilt is one of the reasons why I am unhappy...guilt for causing the delay in the complete growth of my man.  Ouch...heartaches really suck!  

Thanks anyway for liking this poem fract.  And in case you haven't noticed, L38-39 are lines from some of your responses to the previous comments I gave on one of your poems.  :)
 — happymole

And by the way, your nirvanic fever is contagious.  
 — happymole

i love l1-17.. Hue vs. Pol, Thy-land, Porty Crystal, Kampuchea, Ankored, 13995904 :) nice, a population of poets producing poems for the land of poetry, awesome.
 — nisetru

Well, thanks for liking those lines, nisetru.  :)

Who could ever resist/refuse Porty Crystal?  I myself couldn't, definitely!  :)
 — happymole

i have seen nothing like this here, happymole.

you should be proud.
: )
 — fractalcore

Hi fract!  

Be proud?  That's weird.  How can someone be proud of his/her poem when all he/she did was to speak out her heart and mind?  

Still, for you to like my poem is more than just an honor...it's more of a life regained.  :)
 — happymole

you deserve it, happymole.
: )
 — fractalcore

and other people should read this.
: )
 — fractalcore

Thanks fract.  :)
 — happymole

well, they seem to be too lazy to read it,
happy mole.

i wonder what joey would think of this piece.
: )
 — fractalcore

It's alright fract.  :)  Oftentimes, I get lazy too and prefer to drench into my own saliva.  Yucky!  :)
 — happymole

ok, so when are you gonna write your next piece?
it's been a while, happymole, but you'd better wait
till our cacti-fixated friends get stuporic.
: )
 — fractalcore

isn't this what people call "an epic"?
: )
 — fractalcore