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Poetry Magnum Opus

Nadir Nap


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Nadir Nap


Down the hall, the bedroom calls

my arthritic back, just for a few

moments, I intend. Sans shoes,

I slide prone to lie on my side

atop the patterned spread.

Sinking in the soft mantle

of cotton, thoughts displace

my body; I write in the dark

of closed eyes, seeing only

the words that hang together

as a necklace, reading along

with the sounds of memory.

My skull opens to the constant

roar of the slipstream through near

panes of black windows.

The interminable forward force

of Pratt and Whitneys, an octet

pushing me toward the long

peninsula awaiting the weight

of tons of iron maidens dropped

with precision measured

in yards from miles above.

My eyes snap open, my body

rigid before the chain

of concussive bursts on impact.

From comfort I flee through

decades to walk the solid oak

flooring joined by my own hands,

seeking the mundane.


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  • 2 weeks later...

So glad no one has commented on this tripe. I like empty rooms. LMAO

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Don't be too concerned: this is a very small site and you've clocked up almost 40 hits. I'm sure people read here even if they don't comment. Your work is always readable and I know you don't appreciate patronising and meaningless platitudes. Geoff. :smile:

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Thanks for your always sobering advice, Geoff. I know there are many who anguish when no one praises their work. Win some, lose some.

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David W. Parsley

I have just been unavailable for several weeks, Franklin. This is very much to my taste.


Well done.

- Dave

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Dave, your taste and knowledge are invaluable. Poetry, to me, is like any other job or vocation. When I cease to enjoy what I create, I will drop it like a hot horseshoe.

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??? Most cryptic, but thank you for the "response." I find many works here of which I do not comment, especially if my silence is requested by the N. Some works are so good that all I can say is that I like it but it's above my pay grade. (Yes, trite.) Some, to me, are so awful, I cannot bring myself to reply favorably. The truly good stuff makes me ponder for hours, even days.

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