garish garments of candle flung on me,
concealing into the blackness of this light,
the quiet that has clouded these eyes,
.
the voices hushed of stories of this journey,
the door bunged up of narration, by the fortitude
of now confounded moon, eclipsed to aloofness,
.
abandoning the dew drops on the yews
which stand enslaving ye, my soul,
growing distant from the being, identity,
.
I cloaked upon in these murmurous times,
balding my heads, ridding them of
dishevelled wild liberty of ye, my heart,
.
blood being caked onto the knuckles,
enduring the blue, of breathing
vicious fumes, out from within
.
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Very soulful, Ha. The tonality and wording you used it gave it an ancient note. My favourite part:”abandoning the dew drops on the yews
which stand enslaving ye, my soul,
growing distant from the being, identity,”
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Holy not many love poems coming from Sylvias words – great write so alive with fire
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The vibe here I’m getting is Mallarme or Baudelaire, a flower of evil pressed into its pages exuding a toxic, addictive perfume. The formal address of “ye” here shows how many rings this old language tree has.
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the last stanza – the subtle kitchen references, bringing my mind to the sad ending of Sylvia’s life. I’m left, rightly so, feeling so sad.
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The angst and the atmosphere here exhale their own unique and pungent imagery–an interesting use of unusual juxtapositions and constructions. Great response to the challenge.
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Steeped in atmosphere and mood – you aced the challenge!!
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def moody and angst driven…that last stanza is quite vivid as well with teh blood caked hands….a bit surreal at points as well..like the balding head stanza…ha.
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Sounds very nice! I’m wondering you and your reader would kindly help choose the winner for the Autumn Haiku Contest by casting your vote: http://wp.me/p3PGbl-xr Thank you so much!
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“confounded moon, eclipsed to aloofness,
so many take comfort, but yes, – Syliva didn’t see it as a comfort either. (fantastic photo)
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so much imagery in this anmol. Your words setting the mood and I was taken back in time with the ‘old english’ terminology, this is beautiful.
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yes, we sometimes need to take out the fumes or they would choke us.
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For many the moon is not the comforter….beautiful piece
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Interesting. I like this piece.
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‘abandoning the dew drops on the yews’…I like this vivid and poignant image reminding me of tears…..
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Dark & grim as “blood being caked onto the knuckles” ~ Good weaving of the words HA ~
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Wonderful layers of varied emotions Anmol,liked it:-)
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Very moving and well done, Anmol. The tie to SP and the prompt are really well done.
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well done. i liked the mood and the strong emotions in this piece.
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Dear Anmol,
Quite an enigmatic, atmospheric piece.
shalom,
Rochelle
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Very grim an good… some very nice alliterations in there.
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i felt the darkness grow more intense as i read on until the end…you reached deep describing a soul’s descent into a distant place that sounds ominous.
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