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literature
the likelihood of Losing sleep
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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
September 15, 2005
the likelihood of Losing sleep by `somedrunkblackspoon
A loss of this, too much of that. This poem speaks to these things and more, in double-lettered double-talk, as it gets shoved out the back door. The basic element of a poem isn't the line or the word. It is the letter. Check it.
A loss of this, too much of that. This poem speaks to these things and more, in double-lettered double-talk, as it gets shoved out the back door. The basic element of a poem isn't the line or the word. It is the letter. Check it.
Featured by ndifference
Literature Text
______________________________
She has become one remarkable appendage.
Among the slop of barstools we were introduced;
had her pulse, perhaps, become any sadder
I'd have thought her a reptile.
"But this is about mammals,"
slunk from me, suppressed
by the stature of my sweating tumbler;
and I boiled to beat my extinction out the door,
then very swaggered, watched a swallowtail
swirl on the landing of an arid alleyway
to tatter its wings, so pasted
to a piece of warm gum.
"A correct assessment, butterfly."
"But this is about mammals."
*
Though I wish, I am not exempt from interaction.
I've been writing about her for months but
my nerves are that shape of a beaten cur.
So I bought one to keep me company,
to keep me remembered at night and
to dig holes for staying cool in this weather.
I put it on a leash and named it nothing.
The whimpering has become comfort,
and I feel much more pleasant about
never confronting her to comment on
just how the rafts of her skin
can bring me rapture;
yet I am still at ravage in sleep,
only ingesting my stabler days.
*
My nights now, of someone like a surgeon:
where the pericardial sac has been cut open,
exposing the heart,
and there she rests in perpetuum,
made of grace and madness,
and outside,
the sad dog chews its leash.
______________________________
She has become one remarkable appendage.
Among the slop of barstools we were introduced;
had her pulse, perhaps, become any sadder
I'd have thought her a reptile.
"But this is about mammals,"
slunk from me, suppressed
by the stature of my sweating tumbler;
and I boiled to beat my extinction out the door,
then very swaggered, watched a swallowtail
swirl on the landing of an arid alleyway
to tatter its wings, so pasted
to a piece of warm gum.
"A correct assessment, butterfly."
"But this is about mammals."
*
Though I wish, I am not exempt from interaction.
I've been writing about her for months but
my nerves are that shape of a beaten cur.
So I bought one to keep me company,
to keep me remembered at night and
to dig holes for staying cool in this weather.
I put it on a leash and named it nothing.
The whimpering has become comfort,
and I feel much more pleasant about
never confronting her to comment on
just how the rafts of her skin
can bring me rapture;
yet I am still at ravage in sleep,
only ingesting my stabler days.
*
My nights now, of someone like a surgeon:
where the pericardial sac has been cut open,
exposing the heart,
and there she rests in perpetuum,
made of grace and madness,
and outside,
the sad dog chews its leash.
______________________________
...
© 2005 - 2024 somedrunkblackspoon
Comments61
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You really did it with this one. I know that you like feedback so I'll try:
I think this is a good piece of work and I think that it has much potential in the market place because of its generalness. Not that it's unoriginal, far from it. Perhaps this is due to the abstract nature of it, as well as the play with language. The reason for this is because it's a love poem. Now it may not be a love poem to you, I'm very well aware that I could be misinterpreting this completely and the liklihood is, that I am. Doesn't matter, because I believe that readers in general will interpret it as a love poem. And that's what people want. Right now I'm digging through my head for a quote by Hemingway. It's not coming so I'll just say it in my own words. You'll notice that the greatest authors tend to write about 3 subjects: war, murder, or love. That seems to be the case. I'm talking about major works through history such as "War and Peace, The Iliad, Crime and Punishment, etc". Yeah, I know this is no major work, nor can I compare it with the latter named works. What I mean is that I'm comparing it to your potential to supersede those works. You look at 99.9 percent of love poems and right off the back they are cliche, trite, unoriginal, horribly written, whiny, dull, etc. You've accomplished something hear. Writing a good love poem. To me that is the biggest accomplishment in poetry that you can make. Since it has been done over so many times. So in essence I believe that writing has a future for you. Whether it ruins your life or not. Be it now or post-mortem.
I think this is a good piece of work and I think that it has much potential in the market place because of its generalness. Not that it's unoriginal, far from it. Perhaps this is due to the abstract nature of it, as well as the play with language. The reason for this is because it's a love poem. Now it may not be a love poem to you, I'm very well aware that I could be misinterpreting this completely and the liklihood is, that I am. Doesn't matter, because I believe that readers in general will interpret it as a love poem. And that's what people want. Right now I'm digging through my head for a quote by Hemingway. It's not coming so I'll just say it in my own words. You'll notice that the greatest authors tend to write about 3 subjects: war, murder, or love. That seems to be the case. I'm talking about major works through history such as "War and Peace, The Iliad, Crime and Punishment, etc". Yeah, I know this is no major work, nor can I compare it with the latter named works. What I mean is that I'm comparing it to your potential to supersede those works. You look at 99.9 percent of love poems and right off the back they are cliche, trite, unoriginal, horribly written, whiny, dull, etc. You've accomplished something hear. Writing a good love poem. To me that is the biggest accomplishment in poetry that you can make. Since it has been done over so many times. So in essence I believe that writing has a future for you. Whether it ruins your life or not. Be it now or post-mortem.