Is it just me or is this rude and naughty?

Don't listen to him.

Simply put. I can dig it.9

I was going to agree with GW but then I pictured the horse and I couldn't think of anything better.A horse doesn't "jet", that would be gross. I like it as is.9

Has this changed since the first time you posted it? I still like it a lot.

This is the poem in question - I found it on the internet. Remember, it's written by a character in the novel. Sharply the menacing wind sweeps over The bending poplars, newly bare, And the dark ribbons of the chimneys Veer downward; flicked by whips of air, Torn posters flutter; coldly sound The boom of trains and the rattle of hooves, And the clerks who hurry to the station Look, shuddering, over the eastern rooves, Thinking, each one, ???Here comes the winter! Please God I keep my job this year!??? And bleakly, as the cold strikes through Their entrails like an icy spear, They think of rent, rates, season tickets, Insurance, coal, the skivvy???s wages, Boots, school-bills, and the next instalment Upon the two twin beds from Drage???s. For if in careless summer days In groves of Ashtaroth we whored, Repentant now, when winds blow cold, We kneel before our rightful lord; The lord of all, the money-god, Who rules us blood and hand and brain, Who gives the roof that stops the wind, And, giving, takes away again; Who spies with jealous, watchful care, Our thoughts, our dreams, our secret ways, Who picks our words and cuts our clothes, And maps the pattern of our days; Who chills our anger, curbs our hope, And buys our lives and pays with toys, Who claims as tribute broken faith, Accepted insults, muted joys; Who binds with chains the poet???s wit, The navvy???s strength, the soldier???s pride, And lays the sleek, estranging shield Between the lover and his bride.

A nice bit of Dylan at the end there. You ought to be raging against the dying of the light though, not just letting it happen.

This is your best yet. I love the idea of barely being there, just being a space defined by the environment around you. And you end it light-heartedly. Bonza. (but a typo - 'estuary' - don't worry about it).

Since I've been on this site I've gotten better at studying others' work.This is really good. ditto.

"Death, and her kind." Boy ain't that the truth! Maybe just a dash of color to s-2?

If more people would "jump in after themselves",they'd be a lot happier. Bravo.

This is great it many ways and awful in others. I don't know what to tell you. It needs work but I don't want you to touch it. I enjoyed this.

what the fuck am I talking about, this thing is perfect. Some day I want to be the mom that comes downstairs and tells the blue boys to shoo.

As usual, I love what you saying, and adore the images. I just can't bring myself to like the form. It annoys me, because I want to like it so much, but I just can't.

Not bad. Not bad at all, even.

DA did you lose your voice. I see you creeping around. And why is this rating at 7.17 and is not on the best poem list?

I don't understand what you mean by 'your life is for seen' - do you mean 'foreseen'?

Ah, the old fruit as sexual metaphor routine. Should really have used a fig, though, rather than an apricot. Much more genital.

Interesting. The visual images are very strong. Lots of damage and brokenness. It makes me think of the poem that the guy writes in George Orwell's 'Keep the Aspidistra Flying' about wind and poplars.

Interesting. The visual images are very strong. Lots of damage and brokenness. It makes me think of the poem that the guy writes in George Orwell's 'Keep the Aspidistra Flying' about wind and poplars.