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Array ( [sid] => 133085 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Pennies And Paperclips [time] => 2007-03-26 22:39:26 [hometext] => New to peotry, just trying some things out. Any criticism, advice, or whatnot, is greatly appreciated. Enjoy [bodytext] => Through the shallow brine and into the deep,
the kettle yells and bounces upon the grave fortune that presented itself.
For all the pipes have wandered, and the moon has set,
the dull lisp of the morning is slowly becoming.
Not yet here, the limbo of the transitions transcend the depths of space.
Null.
Flattering the bohemian precipice, it buries itself within,
not to avoid the inevitable decent, but to burn the wait.

With the farthest reach of the mind, the cricket moans.
He sits upon his shelf, squirling and squawking, waiting for his moment.
His life but a void, bending the way through the day.
Searching for the moon, but set ago it has, the day end.
Another day has fought its way through, but in the end, it goes on.
Continuation of the next, and also again, it bends and twists.
The bending continues, but it never reprises, it only bends.
In the end, it is only distorted, only wrenched, only twisted.
The degree of confusion, not withstanding, it is still itself.
The same.
Never to change, only to morph.

The cricket contemplates, looks, and focuses.
The world spins, the universe divides.
The moon sets, the kettle buries, space folds.
So big, and so significant, coincides with the small and pointless.

Though each wrapped within itself, they both realize.
The big, the small, the tortured, the simple.
the maimed, the healthy, the brash, the cure.
The force, the blemish, the truck, the dive.
Everything comes, and everything goes.

In the end, they all coincide.
Its all just pennies and paperclips. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 244 [topic] => 64 [informant] => Hennesy [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 35 [ratings] => 7 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )

Pennies And Paperclips

Contributed by Hennesy on Monday, 26th March 2007 @ 10:39:26 PM in AEST
Topic: ambiguous

Through the shallow brine and into the deep,
the kettle yells and bounces upon the grave fortune that presented itself.
For all the pipes have wandered, and the moon has set,
the dull lisp of the morning is slowly becoming.
Not yet here, the limbo of the transitions transcend the depths of space.
Null.
Flattering the bohemian precipice, it buries itself within,
not to avoid the inevitable decent, but to burn the wait.

With the farthest reach of the mind, the cricket moans.
He sits upon his shelf, squirling and squawking, waiting for his moment.
His life but a void, bending the way through the day.
Searching for the moon, but set ago it has, the day end.
Another day has fought its way through, but in the end, it goes on.
Continuation of the next, and also again, it bends and twists.
The bending continues, but it never reprises, it only bends.
In the end, it is only distorted, only wrenched, only twisted.
The degree of confusion, not withstanding, it is still itself.
The same.
Never to change, only to morph.

The cricket contemplates, looks, and focuses.
The world spins, the universe divides.
The moon sets, the kettle buries, space folds.
So big, and so significant, coincides with the small and pointless.

Though each wrapped within itself, they both realize.
The big, the small, the tortured, the simple.
the maimed, the healthy, the brash, the cure.
The force, the blemish, the truck, the dive.
Everything comes, and everything goes.

In the end, they all coincide.
Its all just pennies and paperclips.

Copyright © Hennesy ... [ 2007-03-26 22:39:26]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Pennies And Paperclips (User Rating: 1 )
by yangdantien on Thursday, 29th March 2007 @ 11:21:12 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Somehow you captured everything I have in my overstuffed junk draw. This is a fine post and has all the bells and whistles of poetic talent. I say well done. Perhaps in your edit reading aloud to your self may help trim the fat of this piece simply an over use of 'the' as a function word to indicate a following noun or noun equivalent which is definite or has been previously specified by context or by circumstance.
The rhythm of your metric as and extension of your intention has this piece's reduction to the tittle a little less playful than it implies, in my humble opinion.

Please keep writing and posting as I look forward to more of your writing.

Peace
Yangdantien

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