Portland Bound
#1
Portland Bound

Red hair, striking eyes, that warm smile
pierced my chest.

That caring look, staring at me
her ears listen to my breath.

Momentary divine abstraction for awhile,
brought by absurd chance.

The sand is falling in the hour glass,

with each scared kiss we share.
Without you how will I fare?

Looking at scribbles from time come and gone,
love is as if a re-run.

Where one is a transfer station,
on the way to Portland, the next destination.
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Rob Cave
Reply
#2
I don't know how you could improve this poem. It seems like a personal experience told outright. It seems you could poetry it up through odd form or more figurative language. The former, I diced around with. I read it a few times, and took it to heart enough to reword it. Or refigure it. Only though as an example of how you could tamper with your poetry to give it some lasting effect without losing the personiacality.






Portland Bound

Red hair. Eyes, smile
pierces my chest,

the caring look listens
to my breath.

Momentary divine abstraction awhile.

The sand is falling in the hour glass

with each scared kiss
we share.
Without you how will I

?

Looking at scribbles from

time and gone,

by absurd chance,
love is as a re-run,

where one is a transfer station.
On the way to Portland.

It just inspired me that. I just read it that way.
Reply
#3
(03-25-2018, 09:55 AM)Bunx Wrote:  Portland Bound

Red hair, striking eyes, that warm smile
pierced my chest.

That caring look, staring at me
her ears listen to my breath.

Momentary divine abstraction for awhile,
brought by absurd chance.

The sand is falling in the hour glass,

with each scared kiss we share.
Without you how will I fair?

Looking at scribbles from time come and gone,
love is as if a re-run.

Where one is a transfer station,
on the way to Portland, the next destination.

This is at once debonair, whimsical, pensive, comical and a cautionary tale.   Accolades.   Never before have so many contrasting (seemingly conflicting) ideas and moods found their way so well-woven and seamlessly bound into one short poem.   Quite impressive.
plutocratic polyphonous pandering 
Reply
#4
Bunx


Enjoyable read,
though I found the rhymes slightly distracting
and 'how will I fair?' seemed comparatively
weak. Few too many commas, particularly
towards the end.  Just a suggestion;

Momentary divine abstraction, brought
[about] by absurd chance, sand falling

in the hour glass with each scared kiss
we share. Without you how will I fair?

Looking at scribbles from time come
and gone, love is as if a re-run

where one is a transfer station on the way
to Portland, the next destination. 


Best, Knot.
Reply
#5
Bunx, I'd like to address the poem later but thought I'd call out a minor typo for you to correct: fare not fair.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Reply
#6
Thanks all! I've been struggling with writing lately, it is nice to hear some good and constructive feedback!
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Rob Cave
Reply




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!