haemony has no favorites yet.
haemony's profile
AGE:
31
LOC: Long Beach, CA
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: December 05
LOC: Long Beach, CA
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: December 05
Hail, Urbislanders! My name is Tiffany, and I’m a transplanted Oregonian struggling to make my way in southern California. I hold a master of fine arts degree in creative writing from Chapman University as well as a bachelor’s degree in English literature and creative writing from Pacific University. Other than that, what can I say? I love words—playing with them, smashing them together, driving them apart. It’s all good fun, and the day it’s not any longer is the day I’m no longer on this earth. Write on!
Items
Version 1
2 Reviews
2 Comments
a bubble floats soft, dishwashing soap-born tiny and drifting sideways the myriad colors of chemical translucent under ghetto lighting the urge to wrap the palm around spherical perfection, the symbol of All, the geometry of gods, to extinguish what was created of domesticity and anguish tears over the stained sink -- let the bubble travel up red, antibacterial skin, straining to connect to pruned fingerpads it will soon burst on its own all in good time.
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
2 Reviews
0 Comments
They bend heads in prayer to the sky that bit them pecked tiny flakes of stone flesh glass they concur -- where is the tragedy? look yonder, my son, at the Great Awakening by the shores of my youth. Sand eyes grow dim now, but not so the original statues the farmer, the wife, caught in solemn dignity, ripped apart by shadows of coffins. These penitents wonder what made the spirit so blue as to create water from wheat. They remember even as flecks of seagulls peel and spin, and there is a deit...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
2 Reviews
0 Comments
to exorcise the ghosts who like to travel, she crosses her legs at every available opportunity get thee gone, banish to the fiery pits of nothingness as she easily slides into the slick red restaurant booth an Ave Corpus Hail Mary Satan comeuppance for every turnstile only this ghost to remain: the haunting spirit of oh so much flesh, heavier than any shade has right.
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
0 Reviews
0 Comments
I never could get 'round this stupid rhyme -- five bumps, so lumpy, jonesing for a scheme. It all just smacks of yawn, of ancient times, when poets didn't mind their words so lame and rhymes on deepest subjects could be tame, letting children sound them out with pride despite not knowing what they speak inside. Hallmark would be proud of this, I know -- conventionality of words that rhyme. To gain the widest audience, the goal, to yield in seeking all that is sublime in language just to make ...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
1 Review
0 Comments
brandy-filled water seeped through his fuschia-laden pores wait! it's a stairway to Foster's paradise to grok, to merge all the unparalleled wonder of a brick in the ribs the singing of flies sweet upon the crown of blood the top left bicuspid growing closer as it sits on the happy grass. For every Smith there is a Jones but the only Heinlein I ever knew slept under my pillow at night for days after my father passed him on, the torch of a man who wanted all the free love he could get but woun...
Ratings & Rankings
[ View all items ]
Reviews
I know that poetry has different functions for different people, but I feel that one of its primary aims is to project an image. If any creative writing is about show over tell, then poetry doubly so. That being said, I'm wishing for more concrete imagery here. I see her going out for a smoke at the end, but I also want to SEE her throughout the poem -- the inconsistency in her face, the lying of her hands, anything but the words that tell me rather than show me. Give her color (even if it's ...
I think this is fabulous work, everything a haiku should be. What a great image you project in this piece, with the combination of the innocence of youth and nature's goodness in the summer sun. The "Caw!" brings to mind a crow, perhaps watching out for the young sleeper? While crows generally are a bad omen (one of death in many cultures), in other cultures the crow is good luck, so I depend on how one takes it.
Interesting work! There are layers here that I'm still trying to figure out. I really like the "condescending lust" that speaks to a certain character in this woman. By that same token, I think using "bitch" is a bit much -- instead, keep with those more captivating phrases that get us thinking. And I'd also suggest not closing it off quite so much at the beginning and end -- perhaps a suggestion that, despite being a "disaster," the affair might continue anyway? That would speak a whole lot ...
I feel that there are two things about poetry that are paramount: create an image and give it a twist. Not that these things are always ALWAYS a given, but they're often good things to strive for. This poem definitely creates an image. Unfortunately, it's an image that doesn't give the reader a larger insight into the human condition. I get that it's a very personal moment, but I wonder why the speaker feels the need to share this moment with the reader. In a very story-like sense it sets up ...
This prose poem is incredibly bleak and the images -- so well-wrought that I shuddered at a couple of them -- make their point amazingly well. This is why I groaned when I got to the last line. I groaned because the last line is entirely expected, and that's not what I wanted. I wanted some sort of twist, something that makes me as a reader sit up and say, "Oh!" or "Ahhh..." I wanted something revelatory. I think this piece works so well up until that last line. I might quibble about the pace...
[ View all reviews ]
Favorites
People
