poetry

dotting the i

he stabs the clothes onto the line
his hands feel damp at the soft seems
shoulders fold in the wind
toes clip the needle grass

he rivets another idea down
the scented stars watch him
and the nylon clouds paint emotions
beneath the seams of evening

tomorrow while his head is buried in
the plump pillow and fuel-injected birds
narrate the churning traffic

he will wait for the recumbent sun to
strum the dreams down into
the drain’s chortle and

his hound will punctuate the
peace with a guffaw

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7 thoughts on “dotting the i

  1. Pingback: Thursday Poets Rally Week 49 Fresh Poets 2 Explore Page (July 28-August 3, 2011) | Promising Poets' Poetry Cafe

  2. you are represented as fresh poets to explore, I encourage you to submit to poets rally week 49 via linkz under an agreement post.

    only if you do, you are formally exposed to participants/experiences poets and get encouragement by their comments, meanwhile, you make comments to share and show your support.

    we will nominate The celebrate poet of fall and if you enter, you may get nominated …results will count on votes. stay active, come in today.

    blessings.

  3. hi there,

    i enjoyed reading this poem, refined in the seams of the everyday scenes of life. sans the melodrama of those stylistic and outdated modes of poetry writing. i can sense that the writer on this poem is overwhelmed of the helter skelter of his daily routines. it might be an autobiographical of your current status, dotting the i. excellent as always.

    • It was loosely based on my irritation of pinning the washing to the line late at night (i.e. I had to wake up early that morning, and would’ve have had time to hang up my washing the following morning.)

      Good poetry, doesn’t require profound insight. But rather small daily occurences that move us in the direction of inspiration.

      Keep well my friend!

  4. “his hound will punctuate the peace”
    I can feel the sharp bite of the pegs in this image, as well as ‘externalising of the self’ (i.e. the hound) that would prefer wandering into evening?

    And then the dichotomy of “punctuate[d] peace”: peace is given an identity or is reaffirmed; although the ‘alliterational’ resonances lean towards a ‘broken peace’,
    purely in its sound.

    I’m just exploring some possible ideas here… πŸ˜‰

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