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Wants and rages that caused me to tear my hair out over these years.
Forgetting to tweeze the fortunes from my crevasses,
The ankle that never healed
Burdened by Achilles who will never forgive the stomping
Rages of a besotted teenager.
Doldrums which rival the grandest canyon in despair stakes
Who are you to call these mountains peaks?
When they are but icebergs above my surface
Sinking many ships in their time.
Swallows and amazons hiking beyond your dreams,
Never ending kaleidoscopes that whisper in your
Ear to remind you,
“We are always here”
Walking across the valleys
So desperately mundane that only lonesome sheep follow
The desolate field nicknamed ‘life’s shame’
Crossing bloodshed, tiptoeing stone by stone,
Skipping to the safety of concreteness
Or the corners of denial.
Further down the line of desire and lip-sinking,
Dowses the brain into thinking cleverness prevails,
Unbeknown to the lucky it’s an advertisement for shame,
Telling me luckiness is truthfully an Irish trait.
Will the leopard ever change his stripes?
Or does the eternal always be.
Meandering through melancholies that shall
Invariably always sing
Appears to but lengthen the understanding of all these
Streams and streams that waterfall through time
Destroying the bountiful called yours and mine
Called wants and rages that transpire through faith
Deciding to translate the abseiling of these crevasses.
If you look at the bottom it’s not black
Its purple coloured wonderfulness that streams
Through your heart
Thrown by the man on his horse,
Half man half horse,
He can’t decide,
But he knows wonderful colours like you and eye.


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The following comments are for "Fitted gloves"
by C.Lynagh

Mythological Face-scape
Crevasses? Erm. Perhaps it's because my devious eye gleaned "asses" from that word that I got this horrible (but painfully funny) image out of the line "forgetting to tweeze the fortunes from my crevasses". Oh dear. And shouldn't you be describing peaks, here? Doesn't one pluck hairs from eyebrows or other places that poke out and up?

Another sticky point: "or does the eternal always be". Not just bad english, it sounds wrong, wrong, wrong. I'd timidly suggest a swap of "will" for "does". Also, there's that quick repetition of "always" once more, two lines down. The second incidence is zapped of zest by the fact that it's lingering in the shadow of the first.

Having said all that, this is another damn fabulous poem. I love your metaphor, I love your images. It's awesome, like the stone faces displayed on Easter Island -- taunting with coy meaning, fraught with layers of reference and history waiting to be gleaned by studious eyes and busy, curious fingers.

( Posted by: hazelfaern [Member] On: April 10, 2004 )

nice one hazel
Now that you mention the creavasses thing, after a good laugh (thanx) I agree with you, could be percieved a little naughty. lol I should maybe revice that. Oh well. :)


( Posted by: C.Lynagh [Member] On: April 12, 2004 )

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