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The World on Fire (Revision) there's the Holy Ghost in a tree, near that black cat on the thick branch. there's that name that makes things tingle, like a Russian princess, threaded like a camel through the eye of a needle. where your treasure is your heart will never go. who burned my parables, who spilled the milk out of the kitten's dish? every revolution is staged. when did actors become the people? when the littlest thing, when putting out the garbage finds a hunched back silhouette by appointment, and going out for a smoke meets a hazard of moonlight, then you know that something needs to be done. you know it, the Cheshire Cat knows it, the rabbits jump like they heard it. but where are the hands and the pens and the swords to do it? |
Additional Notes:
A revision prompted by the thoughtful critique of Latorial Faison.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2011-11-07 06:34:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Now I love this! The entire way through. I found myself, this time, looking for those lines that would be deleted, and I couldn't remember what those sharp turns were, but they are not there, and the poem seems wonderfully and perfectly complete (not that in the opinions of others or even your own that it was not before).
This is revision and editing true here. Sometimes we can edit a poem to death, but I think that you make some great choices with this poem. It's one of my favorites here this month. It's just so creative, so poetic, so genius. The poem doesn't display too much word play, but it gives off just enough to say a lot about life and say it one of the most profoundly poetic ways.
I wish I had written this poem! It's a great poem. WOW! I'm not sure, but it seems to have come easily to you and for you, and that, my friend, is a true gift. Keep sharing.