Each month, write a new collection.
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Jan 5. IMAGE(DELETE LAST STANZA SUMMARY BELOW FROM JAN 4 REVISION)Dash off to ringing bellsAre you the few who see?The sweaty brow, the eyeglass spotThe television loud.You're at the totem’s low But you usher Normal Here.(REPLACE WITH)Patient call bells screamIn this body shopWhere parts no longer workImmobile and garagedIn stinking ambianceHere you tinker smallWipe a sweaty brow.
I think the second is much stronger. It really highlights the real terror there
The ImpressionAs a boy At ten Years oldMy dad was With meFor a visitationAnd was neverThere most of the timeSince the divorceAs I sat on his lapReady for bedMy love was likea new puppy wanting a treat or a somethinglike a pet or a lickI leaned over to kissHim goodnightAnd he resistedAnd turned awaySaying that menDon't kissAnd shook my hand instead of kissing me goodnightMy heart brokeinto a thousandshards of glassas tears rolled down from the wells of my soul
I really like this Daryl.
Not about ChocolateWhen we were three sisters in schoollunch contained two sticks of a Kit Kat barthe other two were missing every timeMy tongue licked melted chocolate rough fingerprints sweetened by regretthe extra bars should be mineI was oldest and chocolateis not meant to be shared with siblingsThat was a childhood ago.Today a blue M&M stares at mefrom the palm of my hand.The blue one is new.By eliminating the first stanza I removed the universality of the invisible third eye watching me hold and M&M, noticing the lines in my hand, and mention of my mother. The lines on my hand with a blue dot was the visual which prompted the whole poem. I am missing this. The last line popped in my head when I first studied the M&M on my hand, like an advertizing jingle. Overall result? Well, feels more childish in its emotions and aren't poets supposed grown-ups with great depth?