#1
Caught it on the river.

The tide hits the rocks like the kiss of some
kind of distant relative, reassuring, if not
overly aggressive.
You can see it all from here.

"You want?"
She offers me her bottle in a brown
paper bag.
I'm facing out over the railings still and a
sticky combination of hair gel and rain
is running down my face.
I hope she offers her name. She doesn't.
"It's about as far from a gift as it gets, honey".
She's beautiful. I take it and nod in appreciation.

The traffic is loud but comforting.
I pass my cigarette over to my left
hand and take a swig with my right,
squinting as it goes down.
She laughs as if I've reminded
her of some kind of peaceful memory
and takes my eyes.
"I'm Alex"
"Yeah?"
There's a pause for a few seconds
so I try not to break eye contact.
She smiles and turns to look out
over the railing again.
I do the same.

In the city, people curse the government
and go about making change.
They slave through society with stickers
objecting third runways and they protest all
kinds of social events and presidential campaigns.
There are men with their signature's
everywhere and contracts pinned to their
bedroom walls.
There are men without food or sex on
their minds (when liquor is taken
a little too comfortably in times of celebration).
They don't stumble into the night with drinks in
their hands and women on their mind or fall into
sleep on hard wooden floors. They don't
loosen collars and they don't loosen ties.
Instead, they loop speeches and statements
in their mind, and consider business with a
newfound passionate concern.

I'm a block away, a league apart in an urban sprawl.
I'm sitting with legs-crossed, eyes-closed and
mouth firmly shut on the cold street of those
who never made it
and those who lost it all.
Last edited by skagitup at Sep 24, 2008,
#2

Sorry matey, ive just done a poem about touch. Can't have two

Best thing I've seen from you in a while, epic.




love is a dog from hell.



#4
Quote by skagitup
Caught it on the river.

The tide hits the rocks like the kiss of some
kind of distant relative, reassuring, if not
overly aggressive.
You can see it all from here.

I got to be honest with you i thought this was bland and really didn't do any favours for this piece. You imagery was weak and i nearly lost interest.

"You want?"
She offers me her bottle in a brown
paper bag.
"I don't take gifts from strangers..."
I'm facing out over the railings still and a
sticky combination of hair gel and rain
is running down my face.
I hope she offers her name. She doesn't.
"It's about as far from a gift as it gets, honey".
She's beautiful. I take it and nod in appreciation.

For some reason this made me laugh. This felt vague in meaning and didn't really move me.

The traffic is loud but comforting.
I pass my cigarette over to my left
hand and take a swig with my right,
squinting as it goes down.
She laughs as if I've reminded
her of some kind of peaceful memory
and takes my eyes.
"I'm Alex"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah..."
There's a pause for a few seconds
so I try not to break eye contact.
She smiles and turns to look out
over the railing again.
I do the same.

This was decent, this made up for the two previous mediocre stanzas. The last two lines really did it for me; well done for that.

In the city, people curse the government
and go about making change.
They slave through society with stickers
objecting third runways and they protest all
kinds of social events and presidential campaigns.
There are men with their signature's
everywhere and contracts pinned to their
bedroom walls.
There are men without food or sex on
their minds (when liquor is taken
a little too comfortably in times of celebration).
They don't stumble into the night with drinks in
their hands and women on their mind or fall into
sleep on hard wooden floors. They don't
loosen collars and they don't loosen ties.
Instead, they loop speeches and statements
in their mind, and consider business with a
newfound passionate concern.

I don't know what to say about this. It was good but i didn't really do anything for me. It sort of dragged-on and when i reached the end it was like "That's it". It felt very literal to the point it felt like you're trying to hard, espicially with the fact that you're sort of critizing protestation. Maybe for benefit you could explain this to me in detail.

I'm a block away, a league apart in an urban sprawl.
I'm sitting with legs-crossed, eyes-closed and
mouth firmly shut on the cold street of those
who never made it
and those who lost it all.

Nice ending stanza. 'Urban sprawl' unique and interesting. This created the impact that i felt it lacked in some areas of this piece.



I haven't fully read the first part of the series but this is what i felt about this piece on its own.


If you've time can you check out '(Delicate and Airy)'?
#5
imr eally sorry but a lot of this is bland and boring there are some parts that mad em e laugh but then the others were you would say one line thent he next made no sense witht he one befor you jumpped way to mucha nd your transistions wern't that great.

c4c any of them but One Sunday Night