A letter in a glass bottle:
i learnt somewhere between today and last year
that sometimes, it is all right to lie, that sometimes
it is okay to feel broken, and used,
and forgotten by the wayside, where the river ends.
(and it is okay to brush the dust off your bones
and walk home after.
although your bones will ache tomorrow,
although the stairs are not your friends,
although every time you see your face in the mirror
you are reminded.)
i learnt somewhere that not all memories are rusted ties,
that anchors are sacrificial, and it is all right
for the captain to leave his crew
(provided he is dead). and i have learnt
that sometimes green-glass bottles will sink
to where the helm weeps between the reef,
and it is okay to imagine that the ocean
always carries dreams back to where they began.
(it is okay to imagine that a dream is where the ocean begins,
but where it ends will not always be
sacrificial.)
A place that is not home:
we used to talk about it, late into the morning
over cups of dreary morningtide, sketching idly
at under-eye hammocks and stirring our sighs
in cold cups of coffee. our whispers were
consistent, like ripples in dishwater,
dishes piled high, curtains pulled shut
so the wind would not hear.
(to this day, i worry that the wind betrayed us,
sold our voices off to the highest bidder
and left us where we began.)
our lives were a locus of twelve-thousand miles around,
centre I [sometimes U, or M.E].
sometimes, we would bisect reality too close,
and accept the fact that maybe not all realities are oceans,
too far out to cut through and too big to swallow.
you said you figured the ocean had no locus, because
it wrapped around and under and beneath too many times.
and yet we talked about it.
we talked about hidden messages in glass bottles, and the wind,
and the sea, and how falling down stairs was like flying.
A shipwreck:
submitting, like cool stones set against flesh.
they said not all currents are like prevailing winds,
and underwater cliffs are not leeward. but the current will flow
where it is meant to, and algae will kiss
the bow to sleep each day&night.
and ink in crevices will flood
paper, until paper bleeds and is tucked away,
to where the current flows. perhaps it is wise
to believe that all shells originate in the deep,
and that all messages have a bottle to call home.
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Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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125,027 Literary Works • 672,774 Reviews
Hello FullmetalDragon here!!
I really liked this poem. But, to be honest I thought it was about fishing hehehe
Anyways,it was unique and cool and it seems like I'm reading a poem and a story put together which is awesome!
So keep up the good work and hope you write more poems like this one.
Sincerely,
FullmetalDragon
Hey, time for a review (if this counts).
Alright, I love the poem, I could visualize it and it made me think. There was a nice flow and I love how you kept to the ocean, however, there are two things I need to point out. Nitpicks really.
1."sometimes, we would bisect reality too close," When you wrote/typed bisect, did you mean to say "dissect"?
2. "you said you figured the ocean had no locus, because" Locus probably should be focus.
That is all, great poem!!!
I actually /did/ mean 'bisect' and 'locus'. XD But thank you for the review anyway!
Kay, you're welcome.
ugh.
your poetry is the best.
ugh.
Hi~
Let me review the individual poems separately, and then together as a group.
Glass Bottle:
This was gorgeous. I swear I say that to every one of your poems, but I don't care. This poem evoked a deep ache in me and now I want to curl up by the ocean.
There were a few picky things that broke my enamoration (that's a word now) of this, though.
So, here you have crazy amounts of commas. At first, I thought you were doing a list like you did later, but it wasn't. Maybe you could simplify this sentence somehow.
Also, I thought it was weird that this talked about a river while the rest is about the ocean.
And, although I like the parenthetical, I'm not sure how it relates. And at the end of it I scream, "REMINDED OF WHAT!?" D;
(by the way, I absolutely love the end of this sentence. It gave me chills.) These two lines... They leave me asking unanswered questions. "How are any memories rusted ties?" and "how are anchors sacrificial?" I would know the answer to that second question if people cut anchors off of the boat instead of reeling them back up again, but as far as I know, they always do the second.
I love the thing about the helm weeping. Gah so pretty.
again, interesting use of sacrificial. I am wondering what this stands for. It sounds like a code word for "bottom of the ocean," but I am unsure.
These lines together confused me. They seem to be contradicting each other? Maybe that's just me who's interpreting it that way.
Not Home:
First stanza:
Yes, I totally understand. What great images. What a great stanza.
Parenthetical:
Beautiful. I get this. Totally understand.
After Parenthetical:
Wut.
So google tells me a Locus is something to do with genetics, and I'm not sure what that has to do with everything else. Also, I have 0 clue about the 2nd line, with the brackets.
I kind of get the ocean thing, but then again with the locus, and I'm not sure what exactly you're getting at.
Third Stanza:
I like how this ties this part into the previous part. And I get it.
So basically it's that part with the locus that I think needs rethinking. Maybe. Maybe I'm just stupid.
Shipwreck:
First stanza:
absolutely beautiful and calming. I have no qualms about it, except for maybe the comma after "said."
Second stanza:
I think the first part could prehaps be rephrased as:
"and ink will flood paper crevices"
because at first I read it as "and ink crevices..." which is obviously not right.
I'm not sure how I like the "shell" part. It seems like that spot could have been better used in tying something else in to the end, the way your final line did. It's like you introduced a new idea, and then just ended before it could blossom by filtering down through several stanzas the way other ideas do.
Otherwise, this stanza was beautiful, and I loved the way it ended, and how it ended the poem.
group:
These sections fit together like the loveliest jigsaw puzzle. I love how they all connect, but yet, they all belong in different sections.
I like how each of their tones are so similar, but they still have slightly different flavors.
I'm trying to say something, but it's not forming into words, so I'm just going to leave this cryptic warning: Pay attention to your beginnings and your ends. They need to be strong. Location, location, location.
Anyway, I love reading your poems. I hope my reviews help somewhat.
Let me know if you have any questions.
~fortis
Thank youu for this, fort! <3 I was actually talking about mathematical loci, not the loci in genetics. Hopefully that makes more sense. XD
*stares at wikipedia*
*blinks*
Okay then. XD
I guess I could see how an ocean wave could be like that, but beyond that, I'm not grasping the concept of loci. BUT THAT'S OKAY.
I'm not very mathematically minded.
Wow. This is awesome. It is such a unique idea. I would really like to know what inspired this. The imagery and symbolism is great. Usually I wouldn't like the lack of capitalization, but it really fits with this and is a part of the flow.
I love this; it is beautiful!
-Pendr