Home› Poetry, Prose, Music & Art

hurried blurb before i descend to work.

of_the_girlof_the_girl Posts: 745
edited July 2005 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
she's making the grand canyon in the sand with a chunk of tinted glass
it's pink like her tongue is after
she tastes a drink of water and the edges are rough like
the hands of a hunter...
grace in the form of an object...
song in the form of silence.
she twists her legs to let the sun in
to let the warmth through.
turning her head, tilting,
the clock strikes three...
and work is calling, work is calling...
being late is like dancing,
it's dancing.
really.
"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato

www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • KwyjiboKwyjibo Posts: 662
    there you are!


    I really like the enjambment on the trivial words in the first four lines.

    Gave it... .... I don't know... ... a beat that shouldn't have been there. and I love it.
    The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway, is that its you, and that you're standing in the doorway.

    I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
  • tiny chimptiny chimp Posts: 94
    i love all the images this evokes :D
    thanks for sharing :)
  • oldermanolderman Posts: 1,765
    of_the_girl wrote:
    she's making the grand canyon in the sand with a chunk of tinted glass
    it's pink like her tongue is after
    she tastes a drink of water and the edges are rough like
    the hands of a hunter...
    grace in the form of an object...
    song in the form of silence.
    she twists her legs to let the sun in
    to let the warmth through.
    turning her head, tilting,
    the clock strikes three...
    and work is calling, work is calling...
    being late is like dancing,
    it's dancing.
    really.

    it's excellent really,
    quite beautiful,
    indeed.

    thank you.
    Down the street you can hear her scream youre a disgrace
    As she slams the door in his drunken face
    And now he stands outside
    And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
    He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
    What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
    Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
    And his tears fall and burn the garden green
  • of_the_girlof_the_girl Posts: 745
    Kwyjibo wrote:
    there you are!


    I really like the enjambment on the trivial words in the first four lines.

    Gave it... .... I don't know... ... a beat that shouldn't have been there. and I love it.

    i'm glad you liked it! it totally came out of nowhere and i wasn't even sure it posted correctly because the computer was being really dumb! but i'm glad it did and i'm glad you saw and i'm doubly glad you enjoyed! this wasn't the poem i had told you i would post, but i keep forgetting my notebook at home. so i figured i'd quickly make one up. :P

    anyway, thank you, as well, tiny chimp (love the name hee hee) for your comments and also, as always, to olderman. :) it's nice to know people still like reading my stuff. :)
    "At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." --Plato

    www.myspace.com/birdinamitten
Sign In or Register to comment.