Mostly a SF writer...but occasionally a (novice) poet.

[robousy]

A dome arcs across the damp layers of the twighlight space and the vacuum bends in sweet forgiveness.

A black cloak pours fireball smite upon the Earth and fishes leap from the pacific to be drowned in the stale air.

Men dance upon the lands from Istanbul to the low Siam. Deep winds stir the ether and katabatic fury misses civilzation by twelve and one thousand spans of mans hand.

Children stir within their beds and young men expend precious hours in their immutable quest for continuation in the hand of beauty.

Enemies beckon one another in the dark two-step of loyalty. Left-Right manner dissassociates quiescence and soil deepens with the gun-march of states.

Frogs leap from their ponds and seize harmonious territory in serene back-drops of misty lakes and fire shadows.

The birds migrate early as the wreath of men chants the anthem of nations.

Life spills upon the damp moss and the planet crumbles as the defenders supress hostile intent.

Freedom from life is gathered and men trade lace bullets for black and white imagery of women from their motherlands.

Gods tremble as their theory manifests their darkest trolls.

Imposters march in line with the mighty men of war and women shriek at their weapons.

Children lay silent in the hay and hope that the storm will pass with minimal loss of organism.

Blonde flora crouch in their dens as masters build new towers of gold and forge stone tablets of order.

The world ingratiates and adapts to the new kingdom of the gorilla artifact.

Stability falsifies itself into the hearts of warriors who lay fat in their spoils and pernicious rumours rouse vicious wifes from their cabins.

Such is the flow of man.

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All comments/criticism gladly taken onboard!

 

[dustinzgirl]

You know, this is pretty good. But, there are so many cliche phrase used:
sweet forgiveness, stale air, hearts of warriors, ect...its almost like you purposely force the cliche on us, and want us to think about how--inevitable it is that all men are of one desire.

However, I will say that this can be "tightend up" as poetic prose. By tight, I mean, lose the over use of verbs and adjectives, the centrifugal force of this poem is almost too powerful to be explained in the adjectives that are over-used.

All in all, I really do like it.

Thank you for sharing, welcome, and please, feel free to read/crit my work too.

 

[j d worthington]

I think that Dustinzgirl sums it up quite well. You have some very good imagery here, and some lovely thoughts. Just watch out for the bromides, and tighten things up a tad here and there. One thing that really caught my eye, though, was the following:

Children stir within their beds and young men expend precious hours in their immutable quest for continuation in the hand of beauty.

That line says volumes to me. It's hope, passion, loss, fear, regret, longing, love, wonder... so many things summed up in such a few simple words. I find that line especially immensely powerful.

Keep up the good work, and welcome.

 

[robousy]

Thanks friends. That feedback has been very useful. I was worried it might be a little overwhelming. I think you really have to put an effort in to read it, rather than it read itself to you.

I see you are in texas too worthington! Are you another expat too, or born and bred?

 

[j d worthington]

Thanks friends. That feedback has been very useful. I was worried it might be a little overwhelming. I think you really have to put an effort in to read it, rather than it read itself to you.

I see you are in texas too worthington! Are you another expat too, or born and bred?

Born and bred: Pasadena, actually; lived in Austin most of my adult life, though. Oh, and just in case you're tempted to try a word association test on me to be certain of that (as Paige did), yes, we pronounce "the" "thuh". "Thee" is only for formal occasions. (Where is that evil grin smilie?)