Shardik
on \The Moment/ by Son Of A Bitch
17 Aug 2003, 11:16 AM
What exactly is a carcase of snow?
Maybe, he gets frisky when he dons his plastic chrome capguns and straw hat?
Actually, I'm reanimating cadavours, but since there's not a lot of lightning in Ca. I've connected a 1000 9 volt batteries with used tinfoil to one another, and to the carcass. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, food residue here and there has been igniting up occassionally and smoldering, but I believe the worst of the burnt chicken smell has passed. E mode offered me a job though, that's funny, isn't it?
the last half of the last line is kinda out of tune with the rest, but all round, i like it. 9
take a gander at my one 'confession of a troubled man' tell me what you think,in a vote or otherwise
please put a vote on the poem, bad or good, just vote.any comments are more than welcome
Dear Bachus,
Thank you for your comment and the trouble you have kindly taken to reflect upon "Cecelia". As you are aware, each line of a sonnet has 10 beats. Line seven, just like all preceeding and subsequent lines has ten beats. However, you may be right, if for instance, a grand Shakespearean actor of the old school pronounced "every" with three syllables rather than with the modern practise of pronouncing it with just two. I am flattered that you took the bother to write a comment. Thank you. By the way, this was a fiercely felt poem, very much from the heart. She said to me a year after we broke up (she dumped me) that "if you love me, you will prove it by writing me a sonnet". So I studied Will Shakespeare's better sonnets and decided she was the opposite of the summer's day, the sonnet for which he is most famous. Three months after writing her the sonnet, she yielded to my charms and we were engaged. Three days later she broke it off - telling me that she felt our life together was not going to work. I never saw her afterwards. She died of cancer nine months later. The poem "Maria" describes my resurrection.
Best wishes,
Nicholas
thanks, but I don't think I have changed it since your last comment.
nice bridgework.
Are you already in Lompoc? Did e-mode put you there? bastards.
Yes! How can p/k say your poetry is going nowhere? Honestly, I may not understand most of what you are writing, but you have no boxes. no boundaries. no rules. this is what makes you work. once people get past the wrought iron gates, you're an amusement park with the best rides. always worth the price of admittance.
murder. hrmm. well, good for you, how about i crank up the blood and write about rape and sodomy? ;)
I suppose you're unaware that we no longer play with your kind of weak poetry. We are strictly into murder Timothy, Murder. We Gangbox.com.
or some sort of mystikyl balme
Maybe, like me, you're meant for a higher calling. Like for instance: Murder?
I strongly urge you to learn. Because, you never know where space rock will land or when.
lol. I hate water. I can't swim. = /
I'm losing patience.
If you let me do it. We'll both get more out of it.
definitely better. i never quite make the jump from 2 to 3 though. holding score.