scone crumbs have gone soggy
at the floor of my tea cup,
dark with earl grey
and steeped shadows.
I've been banished to this, a
morning cycle, parallel afternoons,
mirror images for nights
which I move through; future months
have become wavering as a mirage
while these days remain stoic.
I've rearranged the trinkets
standing sentry on my windowsill
ten times today. They are tired
of the unresolved march to and from,
but I
keep them pattering on.
My tongue is heavy with disuse,
and my fingers are sculpted rough
with calluses, from treading through
course pages and tearing
stories from my pen. I try
to use those angry patches
to smear my freckles into my skin
but they are more resolute than I
could ever hope to be.
The rut I've run is deepened
by the restlessness I get from
Walker's words which
paint images more extraordinary than
tigers across an African plain.
But Collins
reminds me that
even the cool tedium of the everyday
can be worthy of rememberance.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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125,023 Literary Works • 672,878 Reviews
I enjoyed your musing on the routines that fill moments destined for something greater than rearanging the trinkets watching us from our windowsills. The piece started off with the big picture of your days reduced to pantomimes of one another. And then moves to more fine details of what your doing instead of socializing. This broad and slim spectrum of thought is amusing, and your analogy of the freckles determination surpassing your own is complementary. I could only suggest that you change to and from to to and fro.
Happy writing!
Hello! Rurouni again! (This wanderer likes your works!)
Interesting work.
I'd have to agree with the reviewer shino. This doesn't really grab my attention, it does when you begin to describe the scene. But beyond that, I wasn't really pulled in. More confused and unsure of what this was about.
I have one nitpick, and you're going to be asking me why I nitpicked on it XD
Doll, there aren't tigers in Africa ><. Lions are the king there. (Yeah, this was a pretty useless nitpick, but I had to nitpick on it.
So, just overall: Lovely imagery in your later stanzas. But you need a better hook. If this were in a poetry book, I might skim it and find a more interesting one, not to be harsh. Give us a better hook. I applaud you on your imagery!!
Well, I need to wander off now, maybe I'll stop by to review again!
Always,
~Shad
Ruroni, the tigers in Africa is a joke, and a reference to the works of Alice Walker. She has an anthology of poetry from her trip to Africa called "African Images: A Glimpse From a Tiger's Back", and someone said just that, "There aren't any tigers in Africa" to which she said "I know, but tigers are just so beautiful, aren't they?" and I just loved that so I included that. That's why I used "extraordinary" to describe tigers in Africa, because it's ridiculous. It was supposed to signify whimsy and imagination leaving me restless.
*Rurouni.
Ahh well, I still had to be the person I am and nitpickity at it. But thanks for the clear up, anyways.
This poem is alright.
I wasn't very interested in this poem up until the fourth stanza, in which place the descriptiveness caught my eye.
Speaking of which, the descriptions in this poem are spectacular. It takes a bit of time (and effort) to really get such a great poem.
The first couple of stanzas seemed as though they belonged to another poem, but that is personal opinion.
Thank you for a neat poem.
P.S. what really made me want to read this was the title. Great choice!