Thread: Last Saturday

in fall breeze
dead leaves hiss
wind chimes ring

stifled bursts
of children laughing
break muted, corny cartoon songs

yellow light
on damp, white weave
anticipated, rote connection

profile, cloaked
in shifting shadows
the unfamiliar face
revealed

a vague display
of pictures
fading
recollections
distant voices

harsh beams show
the strand of gray
the shallow crease
beside the mouth

a waning moon
beneath the eye

pillow-muted sigh
a puzzling murmur

say something

remind me

your sleepy rasp
that same sly smile
a joyous flash
of recognition
ignites the autumn afternoon

Joe, Haven't read you in a while. So glad to see you here. You have a real gift for imagery. Some of my favorites, I'll site in a bit. A little a nit concerning the first two lines which threw me off.

cicadas drone
wind chimes ring

cidadas come out from their 17 year old stay underground to live with us for just one month, in August. They are otherwise known as the "Guns of August" because of their short bursts (like gun fire). Here, "drone" doesn't seem to work. They are heard in the morning which, of course, is stiffling hot in August so I can't "hear" wind chimes ringing.

I then go onto to read what I hear is SOC but with line breaks.

Imagery

harsh beams show
the strand of gray
the shallow crease
beside the mouth

Wow! Here you have me "seeing" with a magnifying glass. Such a detail as "the shallow crease beside the mouth" is the stuff which reels the reader in.

Your ending is now a departure from the clusters of images (finely wrought) making for more of story which I love.

pillow-muted sigh ~ brilliant!
a puzzling murmur

say something

remind me

your sleepy rasp
that same sly smile ~ smooth alliteration

a joyous spark ~ the whole, just beautiful and clever
of recognition
ignites the autumn afternoon

Despite my little nits, thourougly enjoyed! Laurie ~

Heh. Thanks, SM.

I just like the word "cicada " -- but I should have done my homework. I'm going to have to work on that! That's going to really bug me (pun not intended) 'till I get a chance to change it later. I hate how work gets in the way of writing.

I appreciate the comments, as always.

P.S. I just changed it to traffic for now. You don't know that I live where there isn't any, so that should do it for the time being.

Oh, what's SOC?

Oh, Joe. When a fat, ugly, low flying cicada hit me in the forehead one afternoon, I decided to investigate. The ugly bugger (pun intended!) roused my curiosity. Though I, too, happen to like the way cicada sounds. Is there an opposite of onomonopia?! They certainly are not pretty as their name is.

I just changed it to traffic for now

yellow light ~ is this what you mean? Something I missed. I think you're right.
on damp, white weave
anticipated, rote connection

SOC - Stream of Consciouness. Think "beat" poet, Jack Kerouac.

n., pl., streams of consciousness.

1. A literary technique that presents the thoughts and feelings of a character as they occur.
2. Psychology. The conscious experience of an individual regarded as a continuous, flowing series of images and ideas running through the mind.

The highlighted, closely applicable to your poem. You do not explore the phychological.

You did a great job. I wrote one and found it an extreemely freeing experience. I approached it from the psychological angle. If you choose to attempt an SOC poem, let it all just run down the page without any line breaks. It's Daddy-O cool, man.

I envy you! Little traffic about where you live? Here, on Long Island, NY, drivers think it's Belmont Raceway. The more expensive the car the more they feel entiteled to speed - impatient with cars of likes of my little Kia Spectra. Needless to say, I've learned to be a very good defensive driver!

Well, well, look what the autumn wind blew in, something a lot better than dead leaves, that's for sure. Long time no read, Joe, but it was worth waiting for. I ses you've changed the first stanza, like this one best. At first, I thought hiss was unbefitting, but then I listened to what was going on outside my window, it actually does sound like a hiss. Bravo. Love this, it's true you and I truly enjoyed. Have to agree with Laurie regarding looking through a magnifying glass, but you're very good at that. And at taking the ordinary and turning it poetic. I love it, no nits. I know you're busy with your music and prose, but don't neglect us so, bring us a treat once in a while. An exceptional effort, love.

Best,
Lisa

Very sensuous and honest. I like the edit, though I too am fond of the way cicadas sounds, and the childhood memory it brings of catching and holding them while they buzzed. As Lisa says, exceptional, Joe.

Silvermoon, thanks for the double dose. I’m compelled by my monstrous ego to tell you that I knew what stream of consciousness is -– I just didn’t make the connection to the acronym -- SOC. I’m relieved. Was worried it might be “Same Old Crap.” But thanks for pointing it out -- I hadn't thought of it that way.

And I guess I just meant you can’t hear traffic from the house -- but we have plenty of it, believe me -- and some of the worst drivers in the country.

CD, hi. I figured I was due for one of my little poetry binges. I wish I could say I was working on prose and music, but it’s been all work and no play, which I guess makes Joe a dull boy. Thanks for reading and for your kind comments.

Gumby, I appreciate the comments. Sensuous and honest – I could say the same thing about those peepers in your avatar, which I’m assuming belong to you. Thanks for reading.

i enjoyed this very much. You painted a picture with color, sound and mood in a few words that carried me along to a sparkeling ending. Wonderful.

Sondra.

Sondra, thank you for reading and commenting. I'm mostly a prose guy, and I've always tried to involve all the senses when I write. I generally try and do the same with poetry. I'm glad it worked for you.