aikia's profile
AGE:
23
LOC: Canada
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: January 12
LOC: Canada
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: January 12
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Brushing Leaves Hustling Trees Hustling Brushing Leaves Tapping Windows Rapping Brushing Water Drumming Tapping Window Dripping Water Rushing Splashing Rushing Tinkling Dripping Leaves Now Water's Rushing Tinkling; Brushing Leaves are Hushing
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Version 1
1 Review
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The solid shape of a tornado With the mirror reflection of my esophogous firmly planted underneath Filled with a dark honey-colored liquid The tube enters my mouth anticipating Slides with miraculous ease to my core And surprisingly remains
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In the days the grass was thick, And air of moss rang croaker peeps, My child-imp, I heard a murmer: The richest star, and me asunder. Holding tongue we squawked a bit, With flapping flips and queasy turners, Until we bonked and thud eachother, Tumbled down and hurt the other. Then I saw you raise a smile, And our laughter rang a mile. Now we speak in adult language, 'Cept on days when I still listen; When the whiffy waif wafts right, I listen and I hear a murmer: The richest star I've fallen...
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Version 1
2 Reviews
1 Comment
Type Forming words on your Yellowed paper, Worn in with musty smell, Thickened from years of use (and affection). Two-dimensional universe Consuming the literate Willing. Words Depicting such vivid Worlds, as untouchable as soul. Experiencing moments of Poetic reiterations (to make beautiful), Moving me to new levels Toward that perfect Thought. Oh Book.
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I like the first and last line, especially the last. But the middle throws me off. Why are you opening doors? It is an interesting take on cleaning supplies. I enjoy the elements of nature you add to it in the first line. This somehow makes the last line really smooth.
When Haikus are written about human nature, rather than regular nature, I heard they are called something different, but I can't remember what. I like this. There is something that makes me wonder what is really behind it. The first reading feels like it's this nice poem where you're trying to get closer to someone, but then, the verbage used is somewhat aggressive and almost violent with "shredding" and "cutting". Almost giving this sense, that actually you might know the person or relations...
Well, there are no line breaks or new paragraphs, so it sort of runs on a bit in a way that is a little bit tiring. And I think the words "Fairy" and "Pain" are in it enough to become redundant. But I do like the flow of language here, and the dreaminess it holds. But I find the ending too abrupt. Ending are difficult tasks, and I sense that perhaps you tried to take the easy way out by simply ending it where you are. I think this is something with potential but you might come back to it at a...
I find starting new lines for "walls" and then for "voices" to be a bit too awkward, distracting me as I try to read the piece. There are a few images I really like, such as "across the monkey bars, my sockets petrified/in Nebraska’s morning breath." and, "or human transactions,/to slip into the greasy social glove." But over all I am not really feeling the piece. It's vague, and it doesn't all flow, but it does offer a lot of innovative images.
I find the rhythm too repetitive here. It distracts me from the content. The unnecessary commas do me in. But I do sense there is something underneath it you could pull out.
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