|
|
Post by MichaelFirewalker on Feb 7, 2008 17:11:56 GMT -5
your blood
still a warm 98.6
degrees of savvy flipped
inside-out
your youth a shout
of spit-and-polish
a clean-built pearly gift
for hip universes
your rage
with wild-haired furies
staged in frenzied flurries
of faeries caught up by
your sticky truth
where no one else decides
who you can be or what
you’ll really do
but you
|
|
|
|
Post by johnnysaturn on Feb 13, 2008 15:39:15 GMT -5
Dunno why the madding crowds passed this one by, my brave Mihail, apart from the fact that it 's not instantly accessible. It's a peach; thrilling tropes [degrees of savvy flipped inside-out/your youth a shout of spit-and-polish ] and a resonant final flourish.
|
|
|
|
Post by MichaelFirewalker on Feb 13, 2008 17:06:31 GMT -5
bless you muchly, my friend, for this gift of soul strength...
you know, this poem was one of those I had no idea how to assess myself, so your review here, which allows me to see it through all three of your considerably perceptive eyes, is beaucoup valuable...
thanks for allowing me the use of them again,
michael
|
|
|
|
Post by Jonathan Morey Weiss-Namaste47 on Feb 13, 2008 18:53:42 GMT -5
Very gritty, Michael-"blood" "spit" and "sticky."
Rat-a-tat alliteration in S3 hits the mark, but I didn't think "faeries" fit. How are you using it?
Paring it down....
rage...staged in ...flurries of faeries....
please explain. Thanks.
|
|
