Boy Next Door

A Boy With Roses

Last night the storm landed

In a watery cul-de-sac

As I parachuted into pleasure

I was like a drogue

At one with the waves

The same as a bomb exploding

I wasn't prepared for the loud explosion

A drought sizzling off to a foreboding feeling

Pitted in the deep end of the abdomen

 

Amber petals of the Eschscholzia

Layered in numbers on the comely grass

Hinds run and breed and fear on

The hollystock is burnt and I'm crestfallen

In the starry night I'm dying

As cold as last year's winter

With my Eskimo plan

The sun fried to a crisp

The thought was put into my brain

The farrago of feelings is given a whisk

I remain the same

The feelings are compatible

With a marble built monument

Steel and gargoyle

The dream died and I drove

The fig withered in the dark of the alcove

The cubbyhole is the mouthpart of the dragon's crypt

In this pearl shiny disquisition of little black deutzias

The cotter pin melted with the French seam

A body clinging to life is a star beaming

In the sewing machine

I am high on the feeling

With the silky clouds breaking down

Heated to the point of smoke

I am purified

All things good and new

I have laced your fruit into myself

At your office door with my impatient bladder

I built a cornfield, became the scarecrow.

  • Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 27th, 2020 20:18
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 28
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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    in any writing course for the chapter 'show, not tell': they should have this write as a perfect example of its definition,
    imagery upon metaphor: galore

    • A Boy With Roses

      I understand the concept of \\\'show, not tell\\\' in creative writing, and I completely agree with it for the most part, seen as I adore a good metaphor and can get lost in my attempt to find an analogy, but I also like the juxtaposition of being blunt as fuck. If I feel sad or happy or heartbroken or angry, sometimes I like to stress that fact as it is (which I find nothing wrong with), without intentionally being ambiguous or risking coming off as maybe pretentious, even though I do understand the importance of showing rather than simply telling. I like an equal balance of being honest and fancy and leaving things up to the reader\\\'s interpretation, but I\\\'m replying with this comment because not all of my poetry is riddled with devices. Sometimes they can be an impulsive and unedited stream of consciousness, and then other times, or most times even, I can spend hours or days or weeks at a time trying to think of the right things to say for a particular poem. Anyway, I\\\'m glad you liked the poem, or hope you did. Have a nice day!
      Oh, I\'d also like to add: maybe I feel this divided about the whole show not tell thing because I\'ve never studied poetry in terms of taking a class, I\'m more of an autodidact. I started writing poetry about myself, my emotions, and my life when I was fifteen, before I even started fully reading or taking a serious interest in poetry, and then only after a chance encounter of discovering poets like Sylvia Plath, T.S Elliot, Anne Sexton, Sara Teasdale, Philip Larkin, Oscar Wilde, Arthur Rimbaud, Pablo Neruda, Walt Whitman, Rudyard Kipling, Charles Bukowski, Amy Lowell, WH Auden, Robert Lowell, Victor Hugo, B.H Fairchild, W.D Snodgrass, EE Cummings, Max Ritvo, William Blake, W.B Yeats, Rumi, Langston Hughes, Grace Paley, Jack Kerouac, Thomas Hardy, Ezra Pound, W.S Graham, and Hart Crane, etc., (to name a few lol) did I realise I was born to be a poet. Before that I was just gallivanting and didn\'t know what I wanted out of life. But I don\'t follow the rules!

      • L. B. Mek

        passion is a beautiful thing, but sadly I have learnt the hard way: the tighter we hold-on to something/anything the more likely it loses its appeal or becomes too hot to handle...
        and so, I take things with a modicum of pragmatism, I commented on your 'one' write, if you feel like my comment pigeonholed your style of writing then I'm sorry, but you need not justify yourself, the world of poetry is such a subjective pit of opinionated perspectives that 'responding' to each and every opinion would wear you out very quickly,
        clearly you are talented and passionate, above all else you are justifiably proud of your work: nothing else matters more,
        we 'commenter's/commentators' will come n go, you just keep on growing and perfecting your art, don't take our feeble words too seriously



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