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unknown

in my head
 1
ants crawl
 2
as i linger on the sound of you
 3
humming in my chest
 4
until i start singing along
 5
and my Bombay lisp breaks
 6
our off-screen chemistry
 7
 
 
a dog maneuvers a chicken leg
 8
in my head
 9
when i remember you
 10
as a time in a day
 11
and your creepy innocence
 12
rescues me at 2
 13
from a cold dead Friday
 14
in my head
 15
 
 
then i see you standing alone
 16
below the tree of life
 17
which smells green to the eyes
 18
tastes red in my mouth
 19
and feels blue
 20
in my head.
 21

31 Jul 10

Rated 9 (8.9) by 2 users.
Active (2):
Inactive (7): 3, 5, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10

(define the words in this poem)



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Comments:

Nice poem but I'm thinking two too many 'in my head(s)'.  Maybe omit lines 15 and 17?  Otherwise, quite like it.
 — JKWeb

how about 'subconscious' for L17?
 — mandolyn

are you saying, mando, 'subconscious in my head'?.. or, alone in my subconscious'...? but, 'subconscious is a jargon term and 'alone'... doesn't that actually say what's happening, and 'head', isn't that the conceit of the poem, that it can't be anywhere else but in the head?
 — bmikebauer

the conceit is in the title
 — unknown

RGB in your head
 — unknown

you are a monitor
 — unknown

oh, sorry-- I was tacking my post on the end of Webs.
'alone in my subconscious'
 — mandolyn

ah! that makes sense. but, jk doesn't read for the cadence of poetry, only the feelings he gets to feel by reading shadows in the dark. he's always on his own mission.
 — bmikebauer

this is pretty para-graphy, trochee... the poem-rhythms don't gel.

you're using 'in my head' as a tolling bell...?

i'd clip this, and get tighter into the words... you're using prose-grammar to say things, when you could be using poetry grammar to create the space you have and watch your feelings turn into emotions.

probably, the head of fourteen rings in 15's in my head, like calling for a servant. the phrase itself needs to be free of the poem. maybe, even, "from a cold-dead, in my head, friday... then i see you alone, standing out in the garden, in my head. then i see you standing alone in my head, below the tree of life, green to the eyes, red in my mouth, blue in my head."
 — bmikebauer

RGB?!? monitor!!!! :D

thanks guys. appreciated.
i am writing after a long time.
 — trochee

yes yes.
need to tighten this a bit.
 — trochee

i agree with web-- over use of the word 'head'
i have given crits before on stuff like this. it's not just me following his lead.
 — mandolyn

the head thing, if you look at this as a poem, and not an essay, is the bass-line carrying this poem from beginning to ending.

the thing with a poem is that it sings to you -- it's not a fact-blurt or a comedy-quip: it's an enchanting song. trochee is hearing this, but it's not worked out completely yet. to say that he's overusing 'in my head' is to not read the poem out-loud and try to find the poem he wanted to make. it's possible that neither you nor jk really are able to let go into a poem, to let it carry you out of your name and identity, but that's exactly all and only what a poem does. if you want smart-bites, switch to CNN.

i'm ashamed of you guys. there's poetry in this, and it's structured around 'in the head'. the rest is just imaging to contrast against this image. you might want to read t.s. eliot. he's a pretentious dumbo, but sometimes his american jazz reality sings though the abbey crap.
 — bmikebauer

I like the dAnG poem bauer!
(maybe i should of said that)

The first stanza is absolutely wonderfu-- 'ants crawl as i linger on the sound of you" --wonderful use of words.
16-21 is also freakin awesome. 'green to the eyes tastes red in my mouth and feels blue in my head'

I see the author made some edits.
 — mandolyn

p.s bauer, i am ashamed of YOU for being ashamed of US. :P
 — mandolyn

thank you people ;)
 — trochee

um...i think that all of the "in my head"s are not only important to the poem, but pretty much are the poem.  cut any one of them and you've got a crippled thing, i think.

for, "in my head," is where submissions are being taken, where the dog is maneuvering a chiken leg, where the cold, dead friday lives, where colors are possessed of taste and smells and texture.  it's important to mantra-ize the phrase:  it brings song to the poem.

thought:  have you tried fleshing out the narrator's head, trochee? manicured? manic? napoleon's?

just  a thought
 — pittsburgh

^didn't mean to shout through my whole post
 — pittsburgh

Nice work.  Love the final stanza and the color references.
 — sybarite

thank you guys :)
 — trochee

oh troch, this is a really nice poem.  love the colours you've used here.
chicken leg, hehe.  =-)
 — Estella

My father used to tie dead chickens to our dog's collar. It was a lesson, perhaps you should hang dead chickens round your neck?
 — unknown

i miss your writing, torch, i miss you too!  i really liked this poem, it feels like you, like film, like fish, like feelings.  :)
 — jenakajoffer

closing the bold
 — Ananke

hmm didn't work
 — Ananke


 — Ananke

now?
 — Ananke

YAY! Sorry for messing up your poem trochee :(

Love 16-21 :)
 — Ananke

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