Kitten's Litter

This is so raw and questioning... very strong poetry you have offered.

 

Dare was so warm, sweet, and playful... I loved it. The yawn, pillow, blanket, slumber film, bottom lip, the dare; those shall stay with me a while... a wonderful work from you, kx!

Beware, as you probably know, is right up my alley... excellent twisting language... especially that first stanza, a superb opener <squeezed last breath from your deflated lungs> yeah! that's awesomeness squared
And then, in the second stanza, the pessimistic heat gets turned up, and it's oh so lovely! <writing sap of hallmark love> hehe.... too good... and it follows with the finisher, the accepting, condescending tone that crashes in cold warning.... this little bitty poem contained so much! Really really enjoyed it thoroughly...

Stillborn, I gotta agree with sylvan on... it's so raw, yet carefully constructed, and the imagery is top notch. Again, you start with such a strong opener, <prophylactic cerebrum> is achingly beautiful, combining to form a perplexing image. And the images just keep coming... <purgatory ejaculation> , <ash flower buds> , <global fish hook> , <don’t point your snout into another’s snot> I mean, those are just fantastic...

Wish such wonderful images in so many pieces of work... I suggest you do some william carlos williams style cut and paste... take your favorite little clips, and create a personal magnetic poetry style collage next time you hit a block... I have a feeling yours would work quite well

 

I have dreamt of Calcutta,​

where coy dawn blushed,​

I starred into the waking eyes,​

as Earth’s breath gyrated in my lungs.​

​

(Slid, rolled down to the river bank,​

then gulped the Ganges,​

as warm silt whirled in the ripples,​

…gushing)​

​

...I have seen​

camouflaged snipers in tree tops,​

vultures hovering above​

the unprotected stock,​

their bleached bones for dinner,​

and cartilage for desert.​

​

Little Raja hemorrhaged,​

slurred speech, poked his fingers ​

through a rusting fence,​

tugged my sleeve, asked,​

if I’ve seen a ghost,​

I said, I am one.​

​

Asked,​

‘What to do with the dirt?​

Dry, it crusts on the lips,​

and begs for the thirst.’​

​

I thought about immortality,​

I thought about…who decides​

who survives,​

and if life depends​

on an outcome of a coin toss.​

​

And does it suffice…​

to simply sympathize,​

with a dime to feel noble.​

​

Though my creature was immortal,​

smiled, as I held the clammy paw.​

Palpitating in my arms.​

​

He knew.​

​

...I have dreamt of Calcutta,​

where dusk buried me alive,​

but I clawed for the light,​

till clouds sheltered my eyes,​

There….​

I have slept through fire and time.​

​

There...​

​

I woke up, gurgling,​

surfacing to the top,​

drenched, ​

I was,​

in Earth’s sullen blood.​

 

Deleted.

 

My goodness. Thank you so much for sharing.
I can't describe how this feels. It continues to expand.
This newness is a blessing. Multiple layers of feeling
from ecstasy to descent.

 

This reckless adaptation both pushes and pulls the reader,
like a dualistic current, winding to a dangerous point?

 

Really enjoyed the narrative quality in "so it goes", the way it seems to circle around, the strong images and interesting choice of words... the most vivid part to me was

I love that! Can see it all so clear, and I love ghosts

Danger... this was my favorite of your two new offerings, I like the "in your face" presentation, if ya know what I mean... such a lovely, raw emotional tone. The first two stanzas set a great stage, then you do a little repetition and close it fantastically... thanks for taking me along on the ride!

 

Wrinkled sparrows hobble on crutches,
roll up nicotine, adjust their eye patches,

Pin tarnished medals and put in new dentures,
they gather around the neighborhood benches.

Shuffle greased cards with peculiar stumps,
with a hoarse mutter, they speak of old times.

Scratch throbbing scars – yawn – chase prying flies,
Wink, they grimace at their pear shaped wives.

Whether they eavesdrop or gather news scraps,
they often cough up that which all have forgot.

At sunset, they grunt, and hop back to their coops,
while an ebony sprite salutes the dead troops.

 

great presentation here, kx; I love the way you play the flow, and this one reminds me of going to the vfw with my grand dad when I was little, and ironically enough he just went to a ships reunion this weekend...

loved this stanza!

 

Rain is cold.

Tap taping on windows,
bristling strangers’ jackets,
the sky salivates.

Wind lullabies pregnant girl,
soil scratches her soles.

She bites feathers of snow and swears
that she can taste heat.

Blood is warm.

Gray leaves rustle on trees.

Metal sheets clank,
croon at a passerby
chased away by a stray.

Howling, whistling, whining,
hunger thorns wedged in the gut.

Aloof toddler swings back and forth
on a deserted playground.

Foliage sobs and trembles.

Chaplain exchanged holy water
for liquor,
now dwells by the slums,
preaches to bums.

Puddles reflect sailing clouds,
depart from the sky.

Under the chestnut,
I breathe into my frozen palms.

Next time I should see a stranger,
I will be acquainted.

Compassion is contagious sometimes.

 

I really enjoyed how these images felt.

 

Madly!
I scribbled down, gathered in the palms
crumbs of the voice.

I gasped for the words.

A taxi, that hungover, languid bug was unaffected
to nails scratching its metal sides.

Roll down the window, let me have one last look,
let me recognize you, let me memorize.

Please.

Don’t.

Tap on the driver’s shoulder, signal to drive off
without
me…

ever knowing you.

 

Being the one to fall in love with beautiful strangers everywhere, this is one that I can relate to... my only question is, is it the memory that you're scribbling down?

I love that frantic opening, and the begging desperation of the window scene.... fantastico!

 

Yeps, glad ya liked, it was one of those spur of the moment kind of deals.

Any comments on my Autumn Sketch? Anyone? Anyone?

 

dare criticize the kitten? surely i'll recieve a savage scratch , but i thought this bit was over the top :

Aloof toddler swings back and forth
on a deserted playground.

Sobs and trembles.

unless of course it was something you actually witnessed.. then its basically untouchable

beyond that, i identify with the way the season change makes me act differently, impulsively change my behaviour... thats why i liked this one.

oh and maybe i 'm simple , but i'd love to hear some colors from you

respectfully submitted...wideyed.

 

What would possibly incline you to think that I would scratch, I am only human after all.

Would like to hear you expand on the -over the top- idea though, as to what exactly felt over the top, the wording, the image, the....I don't know. Fill me in.

Didn't play too much on colors because so many poems that have -seasonal theme- do and I didn't want the actual season to be the main focus. Was more shooting for the humanity undertones (last line especially), it's a snippet, an observation.

But I truly appreciate you stopping by, as I so rarely get various views of others in my litter! so thanks!

 

Hypothermia spells out
mutiny,
caught by the folds,
and rattling teeth.

Cracks run down
my immunity.

Fingers shriveled
turn to pebbles.
I see everything
in pastel film.

Muttering,
I am not a jagged iceberg,
I am not a megalith.

Lecture me about justice
or other impossibilities.

It is wrong.

But I lack facility
to transmit epiphany.

Bear with me, it’s only fair,
rare occurrence we should speak.

After all, I am still loyal
and I am far from the extinct.

 

These last two linges add such a balanced warmth that the whole poem is permeated. Perhaps removing 'the' from the last line or changing extinct to extinction would sharpen the conclusion.

 

Then the rhythm would be off...at least from the way I read it.

 

This one makes me want to put my jacket on, kitten! I was particularly fond of the first several stanza's, the personal touch overlaying the images was fantastic. This stanza was my favorite, nice powerful punch....