poetry critical

online poetry workshop

road of expectation

pale highway
bumps and poor repairs like little explosions in my frame-
my tired, old skeleton
who walks the overgrown ballfields and dead grass of my youth
but not this afternoon
with yellow dash marks in my eyes
let me wave to you
from this place between places
bopping my head up and down
I'll never move my hand this way again

19 Aug 11

Rated 10 (10) by 1 users.
Active (1):
Inactive (0): 10

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comments would be appreciated....thanks

high-level poetry critique is about asking the author how the author fucked-up the poem -- asking what got shoved in when nothing else would work. do you really want comments or just praise and spell-check...
 — trashpoodle

thanks to whoever gave this a 10....trashpoodle-I want whatever one feels like saying about the piece

it was my ten, because i always feel that what i have to say shouldn't prevent anyone else from saying whatever they want too. if i give it anything less, it'll disappear like snow on water.

this is a cinematic piece, with your consciousness controlling the words for us -- we follow your subjective way of thinking. some words get in the way -- 'skeleton' has too many resonances for anyone under 12 or over 60. i see your bones still articulating, bending at the elbow, through like 7 -- so, the 'wave to me' is to see this grisly hand mocking life.
 — trashpoodle

thanks trash.....appreciate the feedback