dreaming this morning

DopeBeastie

clipping across some huge body of water...
the mediterranean, perhaps
in a sailboat, with a motor

the sails were open
and the motor, running, too
and it was night
and i was alone
happier than hogs in slop

and i came to dock my little motor-sail boat
when someone, a child, i think, handed me a purple glass hanging lamp on a small post to place in one of the holes on the rim of my boat
i had to make the boat stop against the dock
all by myself
i kept goofing up,
reaching out to dock with too much force
pushing my boat further away,
missing the mark
laughing and smiling, happier than hogs in slop

it was magic
illuminated
soft lights
in dark nights

FinsburyParkCarrots

I think that typographically this piece would be best set out as prose. It has poetic features of discourse, but the syntax and lexis are more prose-like than poetic in form. Story is foregrounded over discourse in this piece, whereas in modern (non-narrative) poetry, discourse tends to be foregrounded over story.

Other things I'd attend to are:

(a) less "and"s;
(b) decide whether or not to capitalise the first person pronoun to preserve consistency of punctuation;
(c) tighten up that long line: experimental effects of that kind only work when the language is tighttighttight;
(d) you only need one instance of "happier than hogs in slop" in a shorter piece because it's not long enough to bear imagistic refrains.

I can see something here though. Fancy tweaking it, Rachel?

DopeBeastie

lol..

maybe someday

one of those off the cuff'rs, right?



i see you're keeping cards close, now?
shoot, i just stopped playing cards altogether
but this dream this morning was magic...al
and needed a net


thanks for checking it out, Richard.

Rachel

DopeBeastie

might make a good kid's book, though

Ms. Haiku

PastaNazi wrote:

clipping across some huge body of water...
the mediterranean, perhaps
in a sailboat, with a motor

the sails were open
and the motor, running, too
and it was night
and i was alone
happier than hogs in slop

and i came to dock my little motor-sail boat
when someone, a child, i think, handed me a purple glass hanging lamp on a small post to place in one of the holes on the rim of my boat
i had to make the boat stop against the dock
all by myself
i kept goofing up,
reaching out to dock with too much force
pushing my boat further away,
missing the mark
laughing and smiling, happier than hogs in slop

it was magic
illuminated
soft lights
in dark nights

I think this is a poem. The poetry I first read of yours way back when the site was brown had a different tone. This has a pushing quality like many dreams do-always movement, but least expecting the next action.

Ms. Haiku

PastaNazi wrote:

but this dream this morning was magic...al
and needed a net
Rachel

So, was this more a stream of consciousness piece?

Felicity

Bibliobella wrote:

way back when the site was brown

would you like to get that old feeling back again?

you can choose 'riot act' as your skin.

Ms. Haiku

Felicity wrote:

would you like to get that old feeling back again?

you can choose 'riot act' as your skin.

No thank you. I like the blue. Thanks though :-)

FinsburyParkCarrots

Bibliobella wrote:

No thank you. I like the blue. Thanks though :-)

We've an Arctic blizzard coming this weekend (I know, in April!), so I'm using Festivus.

Ms. Haiku

FinsburyParkCarrots wrote:

so I'm using Festivus.

Is that a color? :-) Time to learn how to knit a sweater, eh?

DopeBeastie

Hey Bibliobella!

It's not quite Stream. But written like my older works. Kind of a story I wanted to capture in a way that would re-play the image when I read it.



Partial to the old/old black and red, myself. Ah well

Thanks