A Shameless Poem

sometimes I lose my nerve, and other times...

I'm not festive or the shameless type.

I show up late to Christmas and let

wishes spoil on my tongue.

Crinkled, immature, this one

Follows me by moonlight on a 

Flat white acid trail.

I listen for the spooning pools 

of its heels and toes

but know no other proof

of where it goes.

Now

It's been a while 

since a rustle and

Electric panic strikes 

each muscle.

 

Yes, of course

The stalker is generic- but so is death!

And the distance of your words much worse

 

 

I wish

I was the one to track you down in

A marmalade hallucination, but it seems that

When Diana dips I

Lose the place of our Oasis, and pace

an endless silver circle where

Christmas never comes.

My wish

Rises up like winter's breath 

so I can't breathe, and as it leaves and I

crumple on my knees and ripple outwards 

in a theatric sigh, my

body freezes in a 

bow - my love! - to how I 

die

Author's Note

I wrote a poem on Valentines day... then I tinkered with it over and over..

Reviews

[Lily]

I like the poem, but valentines day has sucked recently

[A. Amos]

Rises up like winter's breath 
so I can't breathe, and as it leaves and I
crumple on my knees and ripple outwards 
in a theatric sigh, my
body freezes in a 
bow - my love! - to how I 
die

This is one splendid piece you wrote my friend, the last lines I felt essence.. Truly enjoyed reading

[Joiedevivre]

Overall i really enjoyed the poem,a lot of feeling, great opening. My favourite lines:
"I show up late to Christmas and let
wishes spoil on my tongue."

These really drew me in and the rest followed very nicely.

[Kristina Moulaison]

This is a great cupid's tale. Loved the opening, the marmalade hallucinations, the silver circle where Christmas never comes, the pseudo death at the end, and the distance of your words, much worse...great line. Really well done.

[Thaddius]

thanks! I appreciate the precision of your review. You really pinned it down with 'pseudo death'

[Master K-tops]

This poem is amazing! Your mastery and craftsmanship of these words reflect in this poem. Your diction,flow and rhythm are all near-flawless. I think I side with WestWriter on this one. It kind of presents itself as WestWriter interpreted it. Your note that says it was written on Valentine's Day maked it seem more likely to be about a human lover(unless, ofcourse,writing it on that particularr day was just a meaningless co-incidence). I take it to mean that while she was after you,you were busy lusting after and wishing for other things and by doing so,you ignored her but when she left you realize how much she means to you and how important she actually is to you.
But I do know it could actually be anything,perhaps not even a thing that breathes. Perhaps a concept of exploitation of one's youth(though very unlikely),power,love and so on. I'll probably never know. But what you've got here is a masterpiece.
Please accept my request and review my work too.

[Thaddius]

it was to a human lover, about my ability to make a wish, or to care about anything, and how she made me feel in a way that kills me. Thanks for the flattering words. I'll review some of your stuff soon

[Avoiry]

"I'm not festive or the shameless type.
I show up late to Christmas and let
wishes spoil on my tongue."
This introduction is such a guilty pleasure in the way of fessing up in nonchalance. The flow of this poem threw me off a bit but then the rhythm seemed to come to my head as i read it how i think it was meant to be spoken. Very nice

[luvingu01]

I wish
I was the one to track you down in
A marmalade hallucination, but it seems that
When Diana dips I
Lose the place of our Oasis, and pace
an endless silver circle where
Christmas never comes.

My wish
Rises up like winter's breath
so I can't breathe, and as it leaves and I
crumple on my knees and ripple outwards
in a theatric sigh, my
body freezes in a
bow - my love! - to how I
die

I luv the beauty of your poetic nature that is showing. i have to honestly say that this is truly a magnificent splendor of one fine work you done here.

truly you are a poet who doesnt just owns his pen but can feed on his emotions and pen it to paper without a blimp

[Rossen]

I like how you have slowed this down, allowing more personality to come through ,
A handle to connect with...
"Yes, of course
The stalker is generic- but so is death!
And the distance of your words much worse"

A great voice rings clear in this work of Art...

[WestWriter]

The thing I love about poetry is that each piece brings something new to every reader. I tend to look for the story behind the words. Poetry, in general, is written in such a way as to make the reader get a general sense of a tale. Of course, I simply can not drop a good poem at how it makes me feel.

Reading through this, I picked pieces that fit it will a tale that unfolded before me. A narcissistic man (and nothing wrong with that) has an open admirer that lives in a world made of her own fantasies. She follows him, admires him, loves him, but he keeps her at arms length. Her path eventually takes her away from her obsession (him), perhaps even on to a new obsession. When he realizes she's gone and not coming back, he's shocked. He tries to find her, but she was the one who always came to him. He never pursued her, so he never knew anything of her. When he realizes that she's never going to come back, he grieves the loss of love, or something very like it. He grieves, at the very least, the loss of adoration.

The she I refer to, the it in the poem, can be anything that we take for granted, only knowing its worth when it's gone.

After a second read:

I realize that most of the beginning doesn't fit it with my interpretation, but the story is still what I get out of reading this poem. The character development throughout the piece is what makes it for me. The main theme throughout could use some fine tuning to ensure the imagery is coming across as you want it to.

[Thaddius]

I Appreciate this. I think I understand: you try to tie all of this into a tale or a narrative, and it doesn't quite work as that. My poetry is surreal, and my images are subconscious colors and associations that paint an approximation of my truth, for me. I leave everyone else with a loose allegory and a jumble of vivid images, and they can make of it what they will. It's one of those art house films you're meant to feel sans understanding. But if you delve, yes, there are a lot of practical secrets to this that make the whole thing into a cohesive whole. I've always been a fan of riddles, and yawn at work that shows me all of itself at a first reading. I'd prefer to bare all of myself in a jumble of colors that you decode at your own peril. It keeps me at a distance, allows me to twirl to disco beats in the nude, cat-posed on an altar flanked by cathedral windows broadcasting my silhouette into the ether in a thousand different forms.

I've read some of your prose and poetry, and you are very good. Some reviews coming up.

[Elege]

Very interesting, leaves the mind to think, wonder.. Where does this inspiration come from. Are you truly explaining that you shameless.