"Ontology"



When the wind blew

the dirt moved and leaves

turned over. But no one

could ever notice

because dirt is dirt

and either side of any

leaf looks exactly

like the other.



When the clouds opened

I watched for spaceships,

having been thrown-into-

being and given nothing

but compost and confusion,

I wanted them to take me

somewhere else and show

me something more.



----



OKay this is supposed to be a centered poem.. dying down to a point but it won't copy and paste like that so... use your imagination with me?



"One Frantic Stanza on the Second Day of the Year Written at 3:12 am"



One thousand pounds I don't have pressing

from my foot, holding the accelerator down

as we speed through roads swervy like the scoliosis

spine that you always swore would come when I slouched.

I think we both realize now that forty-five minutes

from everything is a bad place to have a home.

The world this late and this early is always black

like a blank canvas that God is planning to paint

once ROY G BIV decides to wake himself up.

The only exception is grey trees in my headlights

lined along the road like solemn, still spectators

with the secret of how many are coming back.

The moon shines a silver circle in the stratosphere

that reminds me of a maternal embrace of all things,

as if we should have all just stayed in the womb.

Everything is asleep but I am... frantic,

not letting the foggy haze affect me,

refusing to fall to white line fever.

Fatigue is strong but nothing in the face

of the love that makes me fear the worst

words: "operation" or "outbreak" or "malignant".

And you're crying broken words

lying in the backseat, so preoccupied

with pain that you don't notice my panic

as I fail to brake for woodland animals

dangerously close to disaster

and all I can think to swear at them:

"Where the hell is your mother

and why aren't you with her?"

This trip will take us to

early morning,

the world painted,

tears falling helpless

on the red cross

of ambulance entrance

as I'm confused,

awaiting news,

I'll sit and maybe

sleep.

I'll take any suggestions on either of these two works... anyone?

Dave Wrote:

"Ontology"





When the wind blew


the dirt moved and leaves


turned over. But no one


could ever notice


because dirt is dirt


and either side of any


leaf looks exactly


like the other.





When the clouds opened


I watched for spaceships,


having been thrown-into-


being and given nothing


but compost and confusion,


I wanted them to take me


somewhere else and show


me something more.





----





OKay this is supposed to be a centered poem.. dying down to a point but it won't copy and paste like that so... use your imagination with me?





"One Frantic Stanza on the Second Day of the Year Written at 3:12 am"





One thousand pounds I don't have pressing


from my foot, holding the accelerator down


as we speed through roads swervy like the scoliosis


spine that you always swore would come when I slouched.


I think we both realize now that forty-five minutes


from everything is a bad place to have a home.


The world this late and this early is always black


like a blank canvas that God is planning to paint


once ROY G BIV decides to wake himself up.


The only exception is grey trees in my headlights


lined along the road like solemn, still spectators


with the secret of how many are coming back.


The moon shines a silver circle in the stratosphere


that reminds me of a maternal embrace of all things,


as if we should have all just stayed in the womb.


Everything is asleep but I am... frantic,


not letting the foggy haze affect me,


refusing to fall to white line fever.


Fatigue is strong but nothing in the face


of the love that makes me fear the worst


words: "operation" or "outbreak" or "malignant".


And you're crying broken words


lying in the backseat, so preoccupied


with pain that you don't notice my panic


as I fail to brake for woodland animals


dangerously close to disaster


and all I can think to swear at them:


"Where the hell is your mother


and why aren't you with her?"


This trip will take us to


early morning,


the world painted,


tears falling helpless


on the red cross


of ambulance entrance


as I'm confused,


awaiting news,


I'll sit and maybe


sleep.

the first was was good... i used my imagination. but i still have a problem with it because leaves and dirt aren't the only that moves when the wind blows; and also because the two sides to a leaf are different. especially in the fall (if you have a fall).





maybe in the second poem:



some commas inserted into places like, ummm... after roads but before swervy. that was a good aside, that part. take out the word 'like' since it just is. we all realize that it might not really be a blank canvas for god and it just sounds better.

maybe go this way=



exception: grey trees in my headlights.

solemn still spectators lined along the road



but that's just me rearranging your words into my own pooled thought. i liked the second poem. and i think you could also play around with your line breaks a little.

the one thing i noticed is that the style is very inconsistent from the first poem to the second, this is not necissarily a bad thing, but i think it's important thatif you're considering putting together a chapbook, collecting them and presenting them together as a collected work of poetry, the style will need to be more consistent. to be honest, i liked the second poem better. though it would benefit from more regular and thoughtful line breaks.

I hate ontology; i.e., not your poem, but the philosophical study of ontological entities and what we are and are not to countenance into one's ontological system. blah!

Yeah, they styles are highly contrasting. I just expirement occasionally. I have no intentions to put together a collection of poetry. I'm not a poet. I'm a short story writer. I just write these to learn to dance with the language the way that some short story writers fail to. The second one is written without breaks and normally I hate poems without broken stanzas presented in one chunk (I seriously believe that there should be white space in all poems to allow for contemplative pause or to establish a flowing rhythm), but it just seemed fitting to me since it's about me driving my mom to a hospital at 3 a.m. and that's precisely how the poem was conceived. There was no rhythm and contemplation to the moment of this poem. It was written quickly and in my head as a string of intensely frantic thoughts. I've tried breaking it with line breaks but... I don't know. I'll test it some more and post the final product sometime. But thanks to you, and everyone else for the comments.

nan = awesome





hahahaha



{what is she even doing here?}

DaveWrote:

"Ontology"





When the wind blew


the dirt moved and leaves


turned over. But no one


could ever notice


because dirt is dirt


and either side of any


leaf looks exactly


like the other.





When the clouds opened


I watched for spaceships,


having been thrown-into-


being and given nothing


but compost and confusion,


I wanted them to take me


somewhere else and show


me something more.

Hello, Dave, it is nice to meet you! My name is Jothika. :)



I'm shamelessly lazy...and my head is too full of cheery Blake, I suppose, tonight.



This is the only one I read, I mean to say. :P



I enjoyed it, though.



I would fragment the last stanza, perhaps, thusly:



"When the clouds opened, /I watched for spaceships./Having been thrown into/being and given nothing/but compost and confusion, /I wanted them to take me/somewhere else and show/me something more."



I enjoyed your poem immensely, Dave: the internal rhyming between "over" and "other" in the first stanza, your piquant and wistfully childlike tone, your small, surreptitious plays at alliteration... :)



Perhaps the last line, though, "and show me something more", is a bit too cliche for me, as a reader. But great job! Please post more poems; I look forward to reading them. :)

DaveWrote:

"Ontology"





When the wind blew


the dirt moved and leaves


turned over. But no one


could ever notice


because dirt is dirt


and either side of any


leaf looks exactly


like the other.





When the clouds opened


I watched for spaceships,


having been thrown-into-


being and given nothing


but compost and confusion,


I wanted them to take me


somewhere else and show


me something more.





----

but no one could ever notice-----> but no one ever noticed

either side-----> both sides

leaf looks----> leaf look (if you change the above)



second stanza is pretty solid



didn't read the others but this one would be nice with small tweaks

Golly, Matt is being helpful...okay, this board is scarily out of whack. :P