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Thread: Full-Circle-No-Criticism Writing Thread

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    spiderman's Avatar
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    Default Full-Circle-No-Criticism Writing Thread

    I think Poetry 101 deserves a rest. It limited entries to poetry, and we've seen that your talent extends beyond poetry, eh? Looking forward to your entries.

    Carol

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    for us nooblets here..could ya let us know what ya mean?
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    Default Re: Full-Circle-No-Criticism Writing Thread

    Quote Originally Posted by spiderman
    It limited entries to poetry, and we've seen that your talent extends beyond poetry, eh? Looking forward to your entries.
    Plus the title of the thread:

    Full-Circle-No-Criticism Writing Thread

    Go get another cup of coffee, Miss Holli - I think you can figure this one out!

    Whatever I feel like I wanna do. Gosh!

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    Sue's obviously had her cuppa joe!

    Hollidolli, it's just a place to share stuff. (In my head it was obvious, sorry! lol) Write poetry, short stories, use it as a blog to tell us funny things that your kids or customers do - whatever! The original writing thread started by Cryptic/Insane was called "No Critisism" (sic) and I was hoping that we could get back to the enthusiasm that we once had for each other. So basically, just write. We won't judge.

    Dealio?

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    babaloo....im gonna smack ya...shaddup....hahahhahahah..


    thanks for makin it clear carol..cuz well dan is at the store now...getting more coffee...how we got that low...i dont know..hahahha


    so there sue :P...hahhahhha u know i wuv ya right?


    hopefully i can mail a bunch of stuffs out today...if i ever get the dang puter issues fixed...omg...try and man 3 of em...oy ...
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    How about I make it a little more fun and randomly donate twollars for posts that impress me? Of course, since I'm so moody, you'll never know how to play to the judge. HA!

    'Let's get this party started... yeah...' \/

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    Why would you take him on Christmas?
    Could it not wait one more day?
    Did you think I would forget any other day?
    Why didn't the doctors save him?
    Isn't that what they get paid for?
    Am I being selfish to want it to happen another day?
    I thought Christmas was a day about you?
    Don't you think my mom still wants her dad?
    Shouldn't my kids grow up knowing their great-grandpa?
    Grandpa...why did you leave me on Christmas?
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    Looking back over the past year
    and anticipating the new year
    i have noticed......
    I have spent too much time
    looking for clean water
    ........in a swamp
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    Old Dog, Gone...

    You snuffled alongside me
    For nearly two decades
    Longer than my marriages
    Longer than most of my friends.
    Raised two children.
    Moved house five times.

    Now you're gone and I'm bereft.

    Though you wheezed like a broken concertina
    And your idea of running was taking ten minutes instead of half an hour
    To traverse the lawn
    When the birds ran before you
    Squawking and teasing;
    And the water, cool and icy like molten silk
    Rushed past your whiskers when you bent to drink
    Carrying news of adventures that would never be claimed,
    You still remembered me
    When I'd call, though your ancient ears could not hear my voice
    And your ancient eyes saw only the clouds in their midst.
    Your nose knew me,
    And your fur knew me,
    And you sought my touch and my scent when you needed to know
    Where to go and how long it would be until you got there.

    Wild grief erupted from my core when I knew you were gone,
    Torn out of our friendship like a picture from a magazine.
    I carried you in my arms to your final place,
    Wrapped snugly in your piece of fleece--the one you'd
    Rumpled when you lay on your bed at night--my tears soaking through your silky fur,
    Dropping on the sidewalk,
    Freezing in my heart, which stopped beating, I know it did.

    I laid you in the earth, without coffin or box. Let the earth take you, I said, let you go back now, to your dust;
    And my heart started again,
    Though I did not ask it to.

    Sometimes I hear your nails click on my hardwood, or your panting in the rush of water at the sink, or the wind in the screens.
    I know it's you, coming to check on me, sleeping by my bedroom door.

    Your image has faded some, now
    And softened along the edges as it's passed from hand to hand.
    I see your place as I enter and leave my house.
    I'll plant things on top of it,
    And imagine you reading the breeze wherever you've gone
    And try to smile.

    I miss you, my friend.
    Last edited by shecrab; 07-23-2007 at 11:36 PM.
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    CK or as they say in Spain, "Yes, What?"

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    She wrings her addled hands,
    a matte ticket with holes to ride a shabby rickshaw.
    Could she air a windy dance, set sail purple ribbons?
    How bleached will his eyes be, as she glances down at her sandals,
    focusing only on the tiny black beetle scuttling across her toes.

    It is a familiar gentleness, this warmth beneath her wet strands
    fair where folly refused to go
    the perfect chivalry of waiting together, though apart;
    her straight teeth queued for laughter.

    She is not too tall, she hopes,
    a muddy schoolyard and flailing turtle still in her stone well;
    dripping packed sod the obscure bond.
    She drinks with painted, fuller lips
    curled into innuendo.

    It was a lavender lover's lake, deeper,
    and though so unnecessary for her, circles widened
    when tears slipped from her violet eyes.
    Their one reflection was sullied; their colors ran.

    Give her the dried madness woven in his palm
    His offer etched with copper lines I have grass, you know
    It was the cool play for which she had dreamt

    Just once shed kiss the man of a thousand faces;
    Just once hed cup the moon with his breath.
    But today shed feel her breezy dance flow through the holes,
    her empty hands only sugared fingers to absentmindedly lick.

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