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Thursday, March 11, 2010

SENTINEL















In this secret place where words no longer serve,
there blooms a malcontent waiting for the

storms to subside. In this secret place
Samantha sits by the window contemplating a

quick death from the 80th floor,
as inch by inch I rise to take my

leave with a humble bow to
you, my haughty lady.

In this secret place the walls remain and the
sentinel stands watch, a lightning rod for

every capricious cowboy--their thick
accents a collusion of condemnation,

they who partition your dreams,
obsessed with their own

salvation, the slow wasting away
as the earth sinks beneath their feet.

In this secret place the orchestra
plays a tango that sails on the

indigo wind, as somewhere in the night
devils dance without any

pants--and the fires multiply
like a Hydra in the hills.

11 comments:

  1. Holy crap and Wow, scary as all get go, but oh my the prose, you little devil you!!!

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  2. "they who partition your dreams,
    obsessed with their own" - brilliant, Tim.

    A powerful poem.

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  3. LORRAINE,
    Thanks. The devil made me do it!

    TALON,
    Glad you liked it. I still get different meanings when I read it--just shows that we don't always know what our writing is about until it reveals itself to us!

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  4. I cast my vote with Talon's!
    __"They who partition... ." Those that arrogantly minimize your dreams, haughtily proclaiming that theirs is the only
    "salvation."
    _m

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  5. I find that substituting "salivation" for "salvation" oft' adds another Dimension of Meaning to a Poeme.

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  6. My favourite part.....In this secret place the orchestra plays a tango that sails on the
    indigo wind
    .....

    Very nice Tim. One day I will have to get you to reveal the meaning behind some of your poems.

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  7. MAGYAR,
    Thanks--I'm always curious to see which lines will strike a chord with readers.

    SIR PERCY,
    Astute observation--I've known many who were obsessed with their own salivation, but most of them were eating pizza at the time.

    GYPSY,
    With this type of poem, the reader creates the meaning as much as myself! :)

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  8. Percylet: You Silly man! Ye jumped the Gun!

    Timoteo: What then, me Lord?

    Percylet (thrice thumping him upon the head with Nerf bat): The Balloting hath only but Now Commenced!

    Timoteo: (sheepishly): Well what of it? I had not forgotten, truly, that the Voting was to commence AFTER the 15th. Tis only that I am irrepressible.

    Percylet: Well, OK then. But did you ever notice how weird it is that your name is so Shakespearean - you know - Romeo, Horatio, Mercutio, Hamletio, Timoteo…

    Timoteo: “Oreo.” Don’t forget it also rhymes with Oreo.

    All Exit Stage Right

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  9. CINDY,
    Thanks my dear. Did you know that "WOW" spelled backwards is WOW? When I figured that out I said, WOW!

    SIR PERCY,
    Timoteo:(from offstage) And don't forget Sal Mineo!

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