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this is the end of the rainbow this is the end of the rainbow (under not over); the bluebirds are gone; it is true there is no trouble (no lemon drops either), no devil with horns and pointed toes, no angels, no harp, even the wind don’t breathe this is the end of the rainbow, in topeka, rome, london, des moines, where the prayers are all answered with the roll of a die; where good fortune comes up god and craps is what you deserve; the nowhere land of calvin, luther, pius v a man with a paper bag and oily sandwich on the seat where you now wish you sat, the seat on which you wished you weren’t sitting; a garbage can with the lid half off, reeking, with maybe you in there, or that poem you wrote for that girl on the top of the hill, with the universe behind her; odd things like the riptide and the snow; this is the end of the rainbow. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2014-07-06 09:49:04
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Sir, you had me, so like a Bukowski feel to this piece, or Picasso maybe, I think- until you threw in the protestant leaders and the catholic rebuttal- however; seeing (to me) that these disruptions were color rather than substance, I concentrated on the substance.
The abstract nature of the piece is so compelling because you link it to actual images of living. Most in a piece like this would trumpet inward emotions and thoughts, you capture those powerfully with external images that will elicit far different truths in each person. So well done. Of snow and rainbows; unintended metaphor I think. Of the poem for the girl, while watching the world from atop the hill; it didn’t get her to put out, but I’ll always have that friendship that never was.