orgami

Mar 21, 2009 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

SURREAL CANVASSE

Shale rain fell
the mute emerald grass drinks
I hurt your trust
your hand withdraws
pretty pearl nails
and hot lithium installment
falls
the chrome yellow ring
the hot red eye

words hushed with pain
suffer on in purple troubles
daubes of kisses try to
salvage a listing love
the flame of rust
caking in the corners
of bright eyes

I taste the bitimus
in our touch
knowing

— orgami, Mar 21, 2009

Critiques

phoenixflame

17 years 2 months ago

Compelling.

Orgami, You are quite a writer yourself. Though this was the first poem I've read by a poet such as yourself, it makes me want to see what else you have written. You are a very good writer. Sincerely, PhoenixFlame

Electric Blue

17 years 2 months ago

Surreal Canvass

Org The mute emerald grass drinks I love the way you entwine the use color and minerals of the earth to create this awesome poem This is so visual so full of pain pouring out like silent rain. I could see the endless tears fall and the gentle hand recoils through the hurt the pain trying to kiss away the tears trying so hard to take back the hurt that has made these tears fall so. This is a powerful heart rendering awesome statement time may be long for trust to return if it can ever be again. I have cried such tears and filled oceans from the hurt received so. Electric blue

Cloudthings

17 years 2 months ago

Brilliant of course, as

Brilliant of course, as always my friend. I need sleep so no elaboration tonight... You know how much I enjoy your work. Anni "Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about ideas, language, and even the phrase, "each other" doesn't make any sense."

W.C.Wampler

17 years 2 months ago

Surreal...poem

ORG.,You always blend your words so well. If only it could mean happiness inside. Or would that ruin everything? wcw

Nordic cloud

17 years 2 months ago

Ow how it feels this glass emerald magic

You keep doing it Orgami taking us into the caverns of your ancestors and revealing gems of depth. Ann of Norway

orgami

17 years 2 months ago

Happiness quest in response to W.C.

I have been so unhappy in many years W.C. that sometimes to think of being without it I may perish a part of me in some manner childhood unhappiness even with the wealth of comfortable surroundings emotional upheaval friday night conflicts (all just verbal) never got into fights depression as a child teen addictions relationships doomed now old and with someone what the?? whom every thought this would happen and tamed slowly slowing down listening more believing in myself more more happy times then toxic waste dumplands I love to hang out in in memory dumping toxic so-called-freinds who just trickle attention on me and Im jumping on their every word Going after them giving of myself like crazy for what I have my family My Lori my own undeveloped self interests righthere I just want that torture that I knew as a kid so I didnt have to grow up that I have an excuse to drink to pop pills to go about daring the world its not sad or a great thrill as it once was now its just tiring and I miss out on what could be right here what is offered by my Love at my side Im still going to write poems about messed up stuff thats poetry but Im realizing that I Myself can slowly walk out of this to something Im not locked in

W.C.Wampler

17 years 2 months ago

happiness reply/reply

Nice reply ORG. It's pretty obvious to me that many of us, (not just poets) put up barriers against full time happiness. Oh, we like a little laugh, and a healthy shot of bliss, but it doesn't seem real enough to hang our heart on. And pain lends itself so easily to writers. Besides, if you expect to wake up happy every day, get ready for dissappointment. If you expect to wake up in misery every day, hey, you could be in for a pleasant surprise! Have a good morning..............wcw

Tonya

17 years 2 months ago

great write! as

great write! as always! sometimes we fall short with or without our installments, we tend to hurt the ones we love the most, not aiming to. there isn't always that buffer in control that keeps what ever is on the tip of tongue from slipping out and lacerating some new wound we will have to work extra hard on to heal. I like the colors you add, they lend a touch of muted tone and brightness reflecting well the feelings.. especially purple troubles, reminds me almost of a regal right to be suffering, just a thought. Even tho i thought i had heard of bitimus before, i had to search for a definition....now i understand that last line.. 'I taste the bitimus in our touch knowing' bitimus..kind of like concrete/water proofing material? right..? is like, now, there is this barrier, and you know it, taste it, feel its hardness. one more obstacle, but all can be overcome. Once again, i am in awe. lol. Always sincere, friend! Tonya

orgami

17 years 2 months ago

Thanks again Tonya

its like being in an art gallery with you describing a heaped mass I have just crashed together (honestly these poems flow out less then twenty minutes if it takes longer I scrap them) and you are describing the artists intent the beauty the pain I am entranced as you move about the poem like a camera panning fantastic beautiful shots your voice over flowing you see the creation as its created You must do camera or film work I can just sense this I love documentaries and watch MOVIEOLA a program dedicated to shorts animation and small movies its so cool Lori hates it but Im the poet ha ha again my freind thank you

Nordic cloud

17 years 2 months ago

I can think of two heaps

I can think of two heaps apart from the usual art gallery ones. The one in Granada in Spain where there was a large group of gypsies waiting for a train, they had their clothes in one enormous pile on the station platform, chickens and all!! The other was in a Mexican supermarket where the clothes on display were also heaped on the floor, or if there had been a table at one time it was long ago engulfed by the clothes, like a bran tub one took a lucky dip! You have made this bran tub effect with your 'heap' of words Orgami and we are so glad you did....and do. Modern art what? I agree about some of the animated films being good, when they are they can be so very intensely experienced, when bad they are HORRID. Yours agin Ann ( I meant the gin)

Nordic cloud

17 years 2 months ago

You see that I used the word glass

You have brought that word to the front of my mind by the rhyme it would make with grass, Orgami, and that was due to the word shale and falling. The mind works in strange ways its synapses colliding in subtle explosions of electricity and conveying to our over-active poetic imagination this connection, this sound of otherness that gives most art its ring, its tingle (tinkle!) of excitement and fire. The real made surreal. The intangible made tangible, its fascinating isn't it? Yours Ann of Norge

orgami

17 years 2 months ago

glassy deluge of grass the rain spun homage of springs wetkiss

subtle morning creeps alive behind the grey veil of the great fire eye i stood my ground against the dreams like waves that pounded shorelines grasp attentive time awakening tasks I hear the language of the crow the city sphere noise grows and grows I so desire to feel the rains like wet ambrosia sorrows gains my heart is slain by lover moon unfinished tapestry colours loom the footprints soon to be erased by the hand of the sea high tides taste

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