summayya Posted May 10, 2009 Share Posted May 10, 2009 By the dying sun I stand above the world. From the rubble of old furniture a rat runs away, I can hear pregnant life pounding under my feet. Its family hour; roads slide into houses, warm with fight and love. The birds gossip in their nests. Far away drops a lone kite into the skeleton of our city. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted May 10, 2009 Share Posted May 10, 2009 Symmayya I can notice that your writing style is somehow changed - in good way. You are playing with beautiful words and metrify in good verses. This is amazing expression and I loved: The birds gossip in their nests. Very sensitive poem my friend. Aleksandra Quote The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goldenlangur Posted May 10, 2009 Share Posted May 10, 2009 Hello summayya, How wonderful to see you here! What a desolate tone this poem has - "rubble of old furniture, lone kite, skeleton of our city"! One gets a sense of the narrator being on the outside looking into a world and trying to make sense of it. The pain and anxiety of life unleashed in dreams where the possible and the impossible elide: summayya wrote: roads slide into houses, warm with fight and love. Poignant and beautiful, goldenlangur Quote goldenlangur Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lake Posted May 10, 2009 Share Posted May 10, 2009 Hi summayya, Glad to read this type of poem that you and golden write, like the feel of it very much. Reading the 2nd line of "rubble of old furniture...", I first thought there might be a disaster happened in this city; then the following lines give me a feel of life vitality. The second stanza reminds me of haibun. You are doing great. Lake Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
summayya Posted May 10, 2009 Author Share Posted May 10, 2009 Many thanks for your comments everyone! I can notice that your writing style is somehow changed - in good way. You are playing with beautiful words and metrify in good verses. Glad you liked the poem Sweet Sandre . I am happy you think I am improving. One gets a sense of the narrator being on the outside looking into a world and trying to make sense of it. The pain and anxiety of life unleashed in dreams where the possible and the impossible elide How wonderful to read such comments, very percpetive! Thank you Gl for the read and comment. Much appreicated! Glad to read this type of poem that you and golden write, like the feel of it very much. Reading the 2nd line of "rubble of old furniture...", I first thought there might be a disaster happened in this city; then the following lines give me a feel of life vitality. The second stanza reminds me of haibun. You are doing great. How very kind of you Lake. Thank you for your kind words. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted May 10, 2009 Share Posted May 10, 2009 Hi Summayya, What wonderful imagery! summayya wrote: Its family hour; roads slide into houses, warm with fight and love. The birds gossip in their nests. Far away drops a lone kite into the skeleton of our city. From rats to birds, the animals seem to co-exist in tandem with the narrator in a blown-out and desolate urban environment seemingly devoid of other human life. Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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