High Sierra -- edit 4

[ellajam]

If allowing let us dwell
in warmth that deceives and reveals
wrinkled voices slunk down and in,
crouched against a wall,
near plum cores and metallic smells.
The orange light that lingers like a curse
stumbles closer, then reversed;
stepping indoors, taking in the ground
dotted with lime green mechanized sounds.

Certainly we will revisit
the flushed out realms of canyons
outstretched upon a silver spike.

Sunken eyes remember
reflective molecules of cinder,
flung like half empty satchels onto a baited hook.
We can hear their voices wrapped up a light post,
circled twice, then ignites.

In the chamber,
dancers wreathed in gold,
undoubtedly unfold
the hexing patterns fogged
by transistor kites burnt black;
like cell mutation turned back
with insidious intent.

In the river we have lived
like baskets sewn by sinews brown.
We remember and befriend
the shadow that lingers beneath the town
that stands with brown dust
lingering between the window panes.
Chromatic paint expanding,
blasting out the window panes.

Content with but a page of runes,
we nibble at the crust
like a pair of disjointed beaks
twitching in the sunburst sand.

Hi,
This is languishing because no one can be sure that you are not a troll. The whole thing is just nonsense....now, tell me I am wrong but DO NOT explain the poem to me. If it CAN be made clear then write it again and make it clear. This kind of stuff can be written in a couple of seconds. I add:
Crisp sheafs will pounce on rising slates,
chalked up like rattled, cliff washed sails.
Clan members battled, toothless scars
run to bolstered buoys afloat on molten eggs,
afraid to crack. Are you an albatross?

24 seconds. I can turn this stuff out forever...but I chose not to. You have words. Why not use them sensibly? It is more difficult but a whole lot more rewarding.
Best,
tectak

The poem resulted from a surge of creativity coursing through me during 4th of July holiday. I was on drugs, and it occurred to me that I had no outlet to express the pent up creative energy inside me. English was always my strongest subject. I can't paint, or play an instrument, so I dove right in and started forming images. That's the extent of it. I know it's rubbish.

Also, I had no idea what I was getting into with his site, and it's workshop nature, but now that I'm here I want to make the most of it.

Some suggestions:
Read as much poetry as you can and when you like something try to figure out why.

Read and critique poetry here. The need to search for a somewhat intelligent response has helped me be a more careful reader.

Read the threads here on giving critique, they will guide you through what to look for in your own and other's poems.

Take a look at the Poetry Practice threads, if one appeals to you give it a try.

Everyone has to start somewhere.