A Plastic Bag

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Dancing in October air, I remember
watching you floating, defying gravity
holding a restless cavity of sold youth, and
sojourned souls Newton would have paid
to drop hoes, not apples, to your beat

and sing empty Hallelujahs to pass finite days,

I watched the velvet autumn wind
fold your hands and break them,
lovingly snapping your fingers, like
December crawling down your sheet
thin spine, your first frostbitten date,
and each year we won't dance that day
because it's too busy with baggage,
̶ but
you popped the joints back in place
with shaken grace round a wrinkled face,
and all the weight of a year's worth
of produce can't be shook from April trees,
or I will or you will or someone will
tear us at the seams

and the beautiful days sung will blend into infinity,

Come round past August, again fly with October,
dancing leaves swirling yellow memories
whispering of the dancer we used to remember,
a cavity of youth now filled. Plastic bags
decompose slowly in the ground.
Last edited by MeanMrMustard on Wed May 11, 2011 11:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.




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I love this! It may be because I work at a grocery store and used to be a bagger and have an affinity with (or hatred toward, depending on the day) plastic bags...but anyways, I love that something as simple as a plastic bag floating around outside could inspire such a lovely poem. Great imagery, and overall a great job.

~Blue




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This. This was just an absolutely beautiful peice. I use the same detailed and choppy writing style as you, except you do it 8000000000 times better. The flow was a little choppy just like I mentioned earlier, but that's how I like it, though it takes a required taste. It really didnt make any sense but that's another thing I loved about it too. It's YOUR story with a hidden meaning for you, it's for the readers to make of it as they please. Their own story, imagination (:. It's busting at the seams with description. You described it right down to the tee. You have your feel, smell, taste, touch, sight, all of it's in there. Very nice. You also have a way of making somebody stop doing what their doing, thinking about what their thinking and start to visualize your peice in every nerve of their brain. You are a very terrific writer. Message me. (: Believe it or not we have a lot of the same style.
Keep writing.
-Madison




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Really, your style is educated and detailed, which I love.

Your poem is perfect as is all your other works that I've read, so this is not to critique but to encourage you and praise you. I've read many and it's always difficult for me to comment because you leave me speechless. You make a plastic bag blowing around outside seem emotional, beautiful, and poetic. Someone can't just read your poem, they have to feel it.

Phenomenal job, keep writing-- Bettinger
"You can't find another me, but I can find a million yous."

"My shadow followed when you walked away and ever since that day my life has never been the same"




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I really liked your poem! I was so imaginative and i espicially loved how you didn't use cliche terms. The part about the velvet wind and the hands folding the bag was really great! it is not my style of poerty but i still really liked it a lot!
Cammie
"All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to persue them" -Walt Disney
:-)




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This is incredibly poetic. The language is phenomenal, I have to say. It is such a deep poem that it's almost hard to glean the meaning. Is it just about a plastic bag? Or is it something deeper? In some senses, that's a great quality for a poem to have, but it's a little complicated, is all. Very well done, and everything I've said.
I'm a high functioning sociopath, do your research!
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"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."
- Jack London.




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I love the detail and the words you used!! Great job of description! I loved that it's different. Not everyone can write about something so common and routine as seeing a plastic bag floating around. It's amazing that anyone could make that into such a beautiful work of art. You did an awesome job of making the "normal" part of life into something beautiful.
A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes. I screamed aloud as it tore through them and now it's left me blind.
Florence and the Machine, Cosmic Love



"I wish we could all get along like we used to in middle school... I wish I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy..."
— Unnamed Girl from "Mean Girls"