She is much like an orb aglow tonight,
Moving through the perilous streets unknown,
Bareback on a neon mare whose hooves
Clack corageously on the concrete bone.
Whispers come from round a dim corner,
Behind the brittle bricks of an old asylum.
Little lanterns sway faintly in a cold wind.
A gypsy slobbers chants and casts torture,
Deeming the girl a feast for the wild one.
The girl learns to sleep even when awake.
No creature can ever mutilate her grace.
a wild bony neon hue
an orb aglow… bareback on a neon mare… brittle bricks… cold wind… old asylum… little rocking lanterns… the kaleidoscope effect of all this, gives me a Steampunk Vibe. An industrial clank of sounds with a wild bony neon hue. Enjoyed this.
---New Friends---
Thank you for taking your time to comment.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes
I am now positvely---no,
I am now positvely---no, strike that; and let me say, absolutely---convinced that you are a Symbolist in the sense of Mallarme and those who followed in that style of Poetry. However, so many symbolist poems, like statuary, are static, and motionless; but your poems have extended the style to include narrative and action while still maintaining the compression of a short poem. Like Stevens' work, your poems require a strategy of reading: because your poems are not superficial, or flat mirror images in two dimensions, the reader must work a little harder for, and bring an effort to, a full reading. And, like the best of poems from any era and culture, a full first reading is only a beginning. When I search for a metaphor or simile to describe your poems, I think of two very different mechanisms---a spring and pendulum clock; and a steam locomotive. In both, we see movement and power generated by a balanced synchronization of gears, rods, and others parts that work together in a seamless combination to fulfill the function for which the mechanism was built. Your poems work like this. And all of this remains, most modestly, beneath the surface on the first reading, as the reader is propelled forward by the ostensible subject matter. The beauty of the presentation's process follows, on the second or subsequent reading. This is one of the finest poems you have posted; indeed, it is one of the finest poems posted on postpoems, and you should be very, very pleased with it.
Starward
Love the Train
I must put it simply: You make me a happy camper.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes
Very glad to do so, but . . .
Very glad to do so, but . . . and I should say this more often . . . you make me a very happy reader.
Starward
sleeping while awake is the
sleeping while awake is the mark of any true poet.
---Together in Words---
We go through the daily motions,
as they say, simply scribbling away
to the mundane-metronome void.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes