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Array ( [sid] => 142673 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => 'Neath the Faucet [time] => 2008-05-26 04:30:38 [hometext] => [bodytext] => You enable the faucet over my head.
At first, just a disparaging trickle
Of limping love, like vain beads.
The water is warm, then cold, always fickle.

It hits my head, diffracts in a million directions,
And I am laughing in its spell. You're a wizard.
I run with many foolish, unruly streams,
Ideas and fantasies stirred.

Had you frozen this frame, it would be stoic --
True to me. There would be joy to dispense,
Droplets sanguineous, emancipated,
And even in the lens.

But the mechanisms inside this camera
Are ever cool and still -- some nonchalant chips
That mash up videos with verisimilitude --
And are shedding their blips.

Now I am all wet in the cataract!
You are dry, with the crown of machine.
Water beads hit the lake-surface
And are worked into the sheen.

Above, the faucet channels light.
I yell, It hurts my eyes! reduced to wisp.
This blunderbuss awakens me,
My pupils small and crisp.

But, protested so many times,
Maybe ten, per se, a hundred,
This proven persiflage
Only lessens your dread.

And you turn the faucet off --
Detached, like bored kin,
With the drops, the lights still amok
And my head in spin.

[comments] => 2 [counter] => 294 [topic] => 64 [informant] => screwge [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )

'Neath the Faucet

Contributed by screwge on Monday, 26th May 2008 @ 04:30:38 AM in AEST
Topic: ambiguous

You enable the faucet over my head.
At first, just a disparaging trickle
Of limping love, like vain beads.
The water is warm, then cold, always fickle.

It hits my head, diffracts in a million directions,
And I am laughing in its spell. You're a wizard.
I run with many foolish, unruly streams,
Ideas and fantasies stirred.

Had you frozen this frame, it would be stoic --
True to me. There would be joy to dispense,
Droplets sanguineous, emancipated,
And even in the lens.

But the mechanisms inside this camera
Are ever cool and still -- some nonchalant chips
That mash up videos with verisimilitude --
And are shedding their blips.

Now I am all wet in the cataract!
You are dry, with the crown of machine.
Water beads hit the lake-surface
And are worked into the sheen.

Above, the faucet channels light.
I yell, It hurts my eyes! reduced to wisp.
This blunderbuss awakens me,
My pupils small and crisp.

But, protested so many times,
Maybe ten, per se, a hundred,
This proven persiflage
Only lessens your dread.

And you turn the faucet off --
Detached, like bored kin,
With the drops, the lights still amok
And my head in spin.

Copyright © screwge ... [ 2008-05-26 04:30:38]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: 'Neath the Faucet (User Rating: 1 )
by shelby on Monday, 26th May 2008 @ 12:10:19 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Of limping love like vain beads....... I loved the word play in this line.. For that matter the entire write.
This was thought out and insightful, depth of soul.
I give this a 5 star!

~Michelle~

Re: 'Neath the Faucet (User Rating: 1 )
by holy on Tuesday, 27th May 2008 @ 12:45:47 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Reading your poem, I almost can hear the sound of water, it is colourful as flowers......

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