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Rondall Moderator Username: Rondall
Post Number: 14 Registered: 01-2004
Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) | Posted on Thursday, March 25, 2004 - 06:02 am: |
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Final flower No tears can catch her. At night, Miss Thang could never do anything right. A Girl is running loose like the rouge she applys in haste. Under those red lights on the street shadow cats create naughty heat. Wet liner lies heavy on her lids. Eyes shimmer over eyes whispering deep. The overflow of cleavage clad in talcum powder says "she could break off a shooting star in mid-fall". Lord knows she's familiar with those stars falling on her shoulders. She keeps too many things close to heart, trying hard not to get pulled apart. The bully blows slap on her skin pulled tight by the night shine. but this drummer has no rhythm... And Lord knows, he's just some random flesh who likes to beat things up. But tonight, no tears can catch her. This little Mama is too fierce on the boulevard. Baby knows that come time to lay it down, she's gets wild between walls. Just ruthless, yet her heart aches on empty corners. For the night stroll she practices her walk in pumps. This Girl knows her legs. Those long stems belong to the special flower that blooms at night for him. When the lights go off, the bully blows yank off her petals. No flower in this bed is ever safe. Sister wishes someone not to be so rough. But always comes back for the bangs and the pains. She stays for the pruning in order to get wild between walls. Superman breaks off a sky full of shooting stars, just for her- all in one thrust. "Star light, star bright..." "You'll be lucky if I name even one for you girl" "First star I see tonight..." Sister always has a wish for every one. "I wish I may, I wish I might.." She feeds them all her dreams "Have the first wish I wish tonight.." The hour is over... hair looking teased stems halfway broken flower is ripped apart and now her walk is all off. She's knows she is dying too fast at night. But eyes can not afford ever to get too wet. She knows that between these walls no tears can catch her.
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Sisg Newbie Poster Username: Sisg
Post Number: 6 Registered: 01-2004
Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) | Posted on Thursday, March 25, 2004 - 09:04 pm: |
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Excellent! U touched me. |
Bookgirl Regular Poster Username: Bookgirl
Post Number: 37 Registered: 01-2004
Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) | Posted on Thursday, March 25, 2004 - 10:01 pm: |
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Beautiful! |
Cynique "Cyniquian" Level Poster Username: Cynique
Post Number: 135 Registered: 01-2004
Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) | Posted on Friday, March 26, 2004 - 04:33 pm: |
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Well, Rondall, that certainly was scribing and scribbling. That was fine poetry! |
Eviana Newbie Poster Username: Eviana
Post Number: 24 Registered: 03-2004
Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) | Posted on Tuesday, March 30, 2004 - 02:24 am: |
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Not bad Rondall, not as good as Refreshed, but not bad! |
Lambd Regular Poster Username: Lambd
Post Number: 44 Registered: 01-2004
Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) | Posted on Tuesday, March 30, 2004 - 06:39 am: |
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Wow. Fascinating piece of poetry. 'The bully blows slap on her skin... yank on her petals.' Some powerful shit. and 'this drummer has no rhythm.' Can somebody tell me where Sister Sheree Sarana, or Seree Sharona, or whatever her name is? I can never get that name right. I usually just write SSS. You know who I'm talking about. I'd like to know what she thinks about this poem. Her comments always seem to bust the nail cross the noggin. |
Rondall Moderator Username: Rondall
Post Number: 15 Registered: 01-2004
Rating: N/A Votes: 0 (Vote!) | Posted on Tuesday, March 30, 2004 - 11:51 am: |
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Hey'all... My-uch love to all of you!!! This whole piece came about from a poem written by my niece Christina. She was trying to bring together some advice I was giving her on her story telling in poetry. She kind of tapped the key character through a story she was telling about a recent heart break (hey she's all of 18). She started something and then asked for my help on giving it some direction. I saw a much more complicated and darker ideal (maybe its my age or just my life). The end result is something she barely recognized and I felt a little ill about. She liked it a lot but was quite curious about where did it come from. I guess you could call it an "inner city moment", = there is an incredible life energy that preys on the weak to sustain itself. Is that dark or what? Anyway, Thanks for the comments, Rondall |