A folded note

The air is tinted with cricket

sonnets and leftover day-dust

and I am slightly tipsy, but

not too bad--my shoelaces

                   are still in bows.

 

We play the Vietnamese card

game, 13, under the moth-light

of dusk and my shorts are too loose

from replacing food with chamomile tea.

 

I’m a few shades from losing

my already lost sanity and I

don’t like this captain and coke

(I’m not a fan of pop so I really shouldn’t be surprised).

 

Tears are fickle things

and I want my lungs to eat

them so it rains inside

my voice.            And I want

 

to French kiss death!

 

I can’t remember who I

am or how to get to

where I left my name-tag.

 

My heart is a cake--please,

come feast upon it!

 

I’m sleepy but I suppose

napping would be rude

and the game’s not over yet.

 

Author's Note

Try this exercise: Take an old journal entry or letter and create a poem from it using the words and phrases. I found this old note I had written last summer and tucked in the back pocket of my moleskin.

Reviews

[Abhra]

I love the fact that the poem begins in a matter of fact' manner and gradually finds its way into the hidden recesses of the mind where thoughts often hide. The poem beautifully entwines reflections about the self with a sense of wounded pride. I loved the sense of disorientation in the poem. I think it makes it even more beautiful. A wonderful piece!

[eglantine]

Thank you very much Abhra :)

[dukovan]

I can’t remember who I

am or how to get to

where I left my name-tag.


You are beautiful.

Theres a lot of images and symbols in your bones and tissue. You express Danielle by means of a mosaic. Do the means meet the ends? I simply don't see an end with you or your poetry. Its good to have stumbled across you.

[eglantine]

Thank you so much Dukovan :) Means a lot to me

[外人 (Gaiji..]

Just two words:
- Interesting
- Different
I ... liked it :)

[Clockwork]

This is probably my favorite from you so far. I love so many of the lines you have crafted here. I think the idea that "The air is tinted with cricket/sonnets and leftover day-dust" provides great imagery and sensory detail. I also love the personification.

I also really loved the stanza about tears and french kissing death. That was brilliant!

[w]

The third stanza is almost magic. I would pull that bit about not liking coke into more than one line, but that is a flow issue and the flow stops at a parenthesis and (hopefully) picks back up afterwards.

[Melobldnfr]

Oh my goodness. Love it! I like the use of parenthesis. Good to see I am not the only one who uses them. Favorite line: "I can't remember who I/am or how to get to/where I left my nametag." Excellent!

[eglantine]

Thank you very much :) and yes, i tend to use them somewhat often. I love how they are used in The Art of Losing, have you read it? By Elizabeth Bishop?

[Melobldnfr]

I don't believe I have. Thank you. I will have to check it out.

[allie_arrowz]

cool idea! "french kiss death"
cool little poem, i love the rhythm.

[eglantine]

THank you as always Allie :)

[afra]

beautiful the first stanza was my fav

[Adam, the Grub Street L..]

I adored the first stanza, each piece rang true.
'Cricket sonnets and day dust' perfectly describe the coming evening in a way that seems original without being strained and using the bows of shoelaces as a measure of tipsiness rings true enough to me.

As you get drunker at the language gets more disjointed, I suppose I can follow the poem's journey into confusion, lust and tiredness, but as our senses get less sharp as we drink, so does the poem.

[Theresa]

"my heart is a cake-please feast upon it" Love that line!