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literature
on afterthoughts and flower pots
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Literature Text
what lives have i not lived?
my mind froze over and fragments of ice must have
sliced into my windpipe and i was
staring at figments of bygone days
lost
in shards of gilded clay
brown soil trickling through cupped hands
i whispered,
grow.
grow into the thin cracks on sidewalks and
over the chainlink fences and
under the catacombs of woods that once were and
out until nothing but the granite walls stand in the way
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
X X X X X X X
X X X X X X X and grow between the lines
(go on without me.)
my mind froze over and fragments of ice must have
sliced into my windpipe and i was
staring at figments of bygone days
lost
in shards of gilded clay
brown soil trickling through cupped hands
i whispered,
grow.
grow into the thin cracks on sidewalks and
over the chainlink fences and
under the catacombs of woods that once were and
out until nothing but the granite walls stand in the way
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
X X X X X X X
X X X X X X X and grow between the lines
grow where they told you to not go.
reach into the light so you can grow on your own,
grow on without me.
(go on without me.)
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The title and the first line really grabbed my attention. They work, they catch, they spark.
The flow was kind of broken with the visual, but I wasn't expecting it so don't take that the wrong way, it was jarring for Me.
Well written--the theme and how you turn it is excellently done (I'm a sucker for the bittersweet). I like how the poem looks at our investments in immortality with our works (e.g. art, children, [perceived] lasting effects), the extension of ourselves into those future lives not only as memory or powerful affect--but we are beautiful failures. The "afterthought" in the title and the last few lines diminish the speaker's role, necessarily because of mortal/temporal confines and/or the inevitability of death, no matter how well will live or do or love. Lots of strong and subtle imagery suggesting throughout too, especially line 7's play on sand in the hour glass with burial and planting.
I really like it.
The flow was kind of broken with the visual, but I wasn't expecting it so don't take that the wrong way, it was jarring for Me.
Well written--the theme and how you turn it is excellently done (I'm a sucker for the bittersweet). I like how the poem looks at our investments in immortality with our works (e.g. art, children, [perceived] lasting effects), the extension of ourselves into those future lives not only as memory or powerful affect--but we are beautiful failures. The "afterthought" in the title and the last few lines diminish the speaker's role, necessarily because of mortal/temporal confines and/or the inevitability of death, no matter how well will live or do or love. Lots of strong and subtle imagery suggesting throughout too, especially line 7's play on sand in the hour glass with burial and planting.
I really like it.