Author Topic: Brackish Reinvention  (Read 300 times)

Offline Royal Kumari

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Brackish Reinvention
« on: December 05, 2020, 01:55:07 AM »
Downbeat lost lives gain compliance.
Adorn cloak to hide roads travelled;
animals glance square in the eye.

Showing up a stranger leaving a stranger;
moral bewilderment.

Pupils dilate magnetic realms of black ink.
Spoke, said regret;
self-loathed lost chance.
Notice grain in fiber of being.

Mere hope smallest bird pushed out,
twists and writhes,
finds a worm for itself.
« Last Edit: December 05, 2020, 02:33:14 AM by Royal Kumari »

Offline Cliff Sombito

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Re: Brackish Reinvention
« Reply #1 on: December 17, 2020, 11:02:04 AM »
I like the way that the fourth stanza finishes the poem, it's like comparing the bird to me, to us and we are all out there seeking our worms.

The second stanza was a good one, seeing we're all strangers, it makes no drama.

Offline Mark T

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Re: Brackish Reinvention
« Reply #2 on: December 18, 2020, 12:37:36 PM »

RK. Good to see you're around. Thanks for posting this interesting write. There's a sense of urgency, speaking in random cipher, as claustrophobic coils of collective constriction enfold the last flutter of the true individual. My take, anyway.     

Offline Royal Kumari

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Re: Brackish Reinvention
« Reply #3 on: January 25, 2021, 05:08:29 PM »
Cliff - thank you for your input. I suppose we all feel like the runt at times. Glad you feel the ending sits right.

Mark - wish I was writing more often. My psyche feels at home whenever I return. Your take is accurate; a high-tailed plight of human will, if you will. Hope you are well.

-RK

Offline Royal Thorn 78

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Re: Brackish Reinvention
« Reply #4 on: February 19, 2021, 03:40:37 PM »
 Brackish Reinvention -- Stubborn Retention.

Measured dropping of coins on a copper table top, the words in these lines come hard and not in melody -- nothing allows for a rapid read of this. . . nor should it, I guess.  The internal cadence is a slow pounding, like one step following another.

Suggest considering last word of the poem -- itself >> herself.  Just my thought.