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Goblet At times, something like emptiness surges from the goblet of my soul but only when the light in the stem blinks into occasions like a “First Noel.” It smashes, like high heels and Nikes, into my face and consciousness. The magnitude of it winds through the arteries of even my tiniest toe and the crackling grooves of the lighted stem are hung out in front of my incredulous eyes. Can’t anyone else see it? Don’t they feel it crashing through the Merry air of Christmas? Out of nothing, “it” erupts. People start shoving, tripping, trampling each other just to grab the last paint gun, Liz Claiborne outfit in their size … or simply to beat everyone to check-out. My shopping wall collapses and I escape to the exit scurrying far from the oblivious, obsessive maul. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2004-01-06 19:02:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I really enjoyed your poem. It makes me think that the population is divided into two - those of us who shop with some amount of dignity - and those who leave items scattered in the isles of stores. Isn't it amazing - how the holiday drives people to behave the way you described so creatively?
I particularly like your 5th verse - "out of nothing "it" erupts, like a volcano - a spontaneus event that occurs out of nowhere - then on to the next verse where one has to run away from it - great imagery.
This piece flows well and artisticly describes the "horror" we all have to endure - out and about shopping at Christmas time.
Sincerely,
DeniMari