trackermo's profile
AGE:
49
LOC: Washington, NJ
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: June 30
LOC: Washington, NJ
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: June 30
I’m a life-long frustrated writer… having taken the slow road to the art, with lots of side-trips, delays and distractions along the way.
Anyway… here I am. Currently I work as a professional online marketer and content/copy writer… writing, true, albeit in business, not fiction.
I hope to make a sequay into the latter… for it’s all I really care about and I finally have some good conclusions to my plot premises. :)
Oh—my nickname’s Mo, short for my initials, Marige O’Brien. But I really prefer “Marige” (no, not MarGIE)... thanks.
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Terrible troubles befell him, Like a cascading tide to the swell. And beneath his whole life there were craters, Beneath his whole world there was hell. He whirled in a sweet desperation, He plunged to an unending doom. Before him was ne'er a salvation, Behind, unremitting gloom. He scratched and he clawed for an answer, He pushed and he pulled 'til no end. To find the peace of a stranger, To see the true heart from within. But a blanket lay cross his vision, And a pummel coated his ears. He ...
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Tooley was a mild man, Of tender heart and quiet pose. He loved to watch the sun come up, He loved to smell the rose. And in his heart he had no qualm, With Man's eternal strife. But bore, instead, another cross, The burden of his life. He was a prose man, so you see, His life was filled with words. His mind forever churning out, Great rhetoric turn to verse. No care had he for common things, For family, friends or home, His treasure lay within the lines, Of volumes of his own. But though he ...
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Obscure, inane, alone, insane, Tweedle-Dum and Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhyming, chiming Bitter striving. Mad dogs barking, Side-street parking, Dew-drenched blossoms In rich brown earth. Hail! Fellow strangers... Secret eyes, spying danger Prying, spying, moving on, Bit of memory, come and gone, Snatched scenes that linger on. Harmony, melody cadence, will Clash in Tiny Terrible trill. Peeps, fits Bursts of flame, All things begin And end the same.
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Why Do we become so enamoured and pre-occupied with the one chosen, the one who stands up, the one who chooses to say what we all feel and know in our hearts is true? We Adore him, abhor him, berrate, believe, envy, love, hate, beat, sting, kill-- but never, ever try to replace him (oh, sacrilege!) But In the rabble, the frenzy, the titanic clashes of cosmic energies all focused and fixed on this one point of light, all screaming questions obscure and demented, screaming, crying, praying... U...
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Version 1
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Jesus is dead and living in Hell, So kick his guts and let him smell. Let him rot and let him burn, And let his parts to the earth return. For none do hold Him anymore, None can see His path before, None can see His light shine through, None believe his words were true. They follow their own, do as they please, Turn a cold eye 'til good hearts freeze, Curdle and dwindle to a bitter hull, A cold sad shadow of a once glorious whole. Oh, yes, Jesus IS dead and living in Hell, His guts kicked dai...
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Another ellipses man, Yeah! :) Overall: Very intense, mezmerizing... and seductive. The point is very, very clear and well wrought. The switches of Point-of-view (POV) are a bit unexpected. That is, as it goes from third-person to first-person, back and forth. It's always difficult to do that realistically, whether in prose or poetry... um, well, without intruding on the story. Perhaps by smoothing those transition lines would be a good idea. The only thing I would suggest is... well, it isn'...
The setting and sentiment are beautiful and very clearly illustrated in the first few words. And, overall, it's a beautiful lyric. The only quibbles I have are 1. A minor, structural suggestion in the first line, which could be more effective as: Morning sun rises from the mist, instead of the morning sun rises out of the mist, The use of "the" especially seems unnecessary... Perhaps, with the melody it works. 2. It does seem a little short, as if it needs a fourth stanza.
Very good lyric... The imagery is very striking, especially the first two lines. The entire first verse is very tight. And, while the second verse progresses and is still good overall, it's also a bit confusing... but, perhaps that's the point. (?) If there's any way to improve it, it may be by adding a third verse, which would not necessarily explain the parting (which, I assume, is ambiguous by choice), but perhaps expound on it somewhat. That's the only quibble I have: that explaining, in ...
It's a good beginning of a novel. Description is good, imagery catches the attention. A better term than "potential" in, "...it’s potential deeper meaning..." could be "possible". Also, "it's" should be "its" (remember: possessive removes the apostrophe). Needs some frame of reference for the second time she has the dream. Did she have the dream again that night? Did she lay down for a nap when she got home? Was it two weeks later? It isn't until I read, "...This time it was going to stick." ...
On the technical level, this is a very well constructed poem as the words chosen have both cadence and meaning and, combined, evoke very strong images. On the artistic level, it is daring in its intimacy and intensity; evoking the eternal conflict of seeker and sought; of sharing and remaining separate. The result is a dance of words; but if it is a dance, it is a Flamenco rather than a Waltz or Tarantella. For its intensity and passion are, like the Flamenco, decisive.
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