Monday, June 06, 2005

two short poems, and one stumped ktb

ok poets, i have these two short little poems that are like skeletons for much greater poems. i just don't know how to fill them in. for the last week i've been reading them over and contemplating and i am really stuck. hopefully the basic ideas i am going for is already in the poems, they just need a little more meat. any ideas? other feedback? things you love? things you hate?...
*
Miscommunication

He said he didn’t get
my poetry. He asked me
not to follow
my dream over
seas. He wasn’t sure
if a three hour drive
was close enough to still
love me. He confessed
his eternal lack
of interest in my
God. He never understood why
I wanted to
wait. But when
he missed
the point of Counting
Crows, I knew
he’d never
know me.
*
Untitled

I wondered
who she was, if
she knew your taste
like I did. But then
I saw the way
you looked at her,
and I saw your
eyes smile at
me, and I knew.
She was your
hometown sunset,
and I am your
Parisian sunrise.

2 Comments:

Blogger ziegenhagen said...

I love them KTB. Absolutely love them. They are heartbreaking, and real, and beautiful, and wonderful, and sincere, and so you. I really love them. And the first one gots COunting Crows...what's not to like?

12:01 PM | Permalink  
Blogger Matt said...

KTB,
On the first one, misunderstood, it is beautifully your style. You are clear, direct, and create situations that people can relate to::::: so, i have an experiment for you:

I would love to see you take that poem, and this half hearted fool, and write the same poem, but make me wonder about whether or not you even care that he doesn't understand you. Make the persona so strong in her own will that you wonder if she would miss his company.

BUT... be clear, and be direct like you always are. When I think about my challenge, it seems easy to create a lackluster persona... care, but dare to make me think you don't.

Why, because you are the babe, and he is just a fuzzy piece of grey lint on your favorite pair of jeans.

And more about this car ride, maybe this car ride should be the setting for the entire poem.

I want to know what channel he tunes the radio to when she made a special mix CD for a trip, I want to feel the tension and stufffiness in the car like the bad shocks that barely take bumps in the road. Is he batting the cross you have hanging in your rearview? That bitch, he just messed with my God too! Does piss you off when he plays with the head rest, and looks through your glovebox!?!?!? Just like when he looks in your eyes and says that they are kinda cloudy. If he doesn't want to drive three hours to visit, he can just sit with his clown for friends in the bar drinking their dreams away for all i care, cause your desearve a man.

If you want me to beat him up or something, I am a phone call away. Or we could just drink wine and watch old american classics lamenting on what a relationship really is.

1:42 PM | Permalink  

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