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J Hill

Vaguely Bound

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Stargazing like dreams lazing in midnight’s moonlit sky.

Shining bright white ‘til morning star light comes sending them all

Goodbye.

While all along the road stands,

all alone the road.

Rows of arrowed maps, vending machines and the rest,

the rooms of gathering.

Earth to sky and land to sea.

Me, I’m another hobo who writes words and

has the time and walked the roads.

And stands outside the rain you had stood in before.

I’m a lonely girl who still waits though days escape

like dreamless sleep, I tremble at the thought of walking out that door.

Oh, Anna the stars that crossed us are gone.

So your soldiers can go on home

I’m all alone in the cold of this winter’s day,

she is at home and so warm in my head.

Hopes go like feathers, thrown into a wind.

At least now I know, I’ll not see her again.

.....any thoughts?

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crikey. That really struck a chord with me. I can't elaborate at this very moment... but I will revisit this soon and leave a more coherent comment. For the short term, though - well done. I like it muchly.

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I like it too. My preference for poetry has much tangible imagery such as this. In fact the imagery is great! Love the line that equates hope to "feathers thrown into the wind" - which needs no comma BTW - same with following line as well. You also use a comma after "Me" in your 9th line where the "Me" would be better served with a question mark. Where commas would be more appropriate is in place of the numerous "and"s that appear. You effectively replaced an "and" with a comma at the end of line six. Lines 8, 9, 10 and 17 could afford to have the "and" removed or replaced with a comma as well (though a pause is implied at the end of nearly every poetry line and using a comma to end a line can seem redundant.) Keep in mind that the word "and" is such an ineffective word in the shorthand of poetry, best used extremely economically as a way to set up a line as a "Look Here! I am adding important info!" marker. You do use it well in line 11 just for that reason.

I am not spouting rules here, just thoughts for which you solicited. One additional thought is that your inclusion of the subject's gender "I'm a girl ...." seems unnecessary in that this expression of lost love works alright from the perspective of hetro or homo affection from the perspective of a male or a female, which is better left to the reader to ascribe, in order to inject themself into your scenario. By your ascribing a leabian relationship - right or wrong - you just may lose half your readers' interest.

Good job, overall! Rich, revealing, really effectual.

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:D

Thank you Both! Muchly ïŠ Steel, I understand what you are saying about the commas and the’ands’. .If I ever have something published formally, I would very much like to have someone around like you to help correct the technical discrepancies ïŠ Interesting though, you perceive it in a way different than my own motivations. And your’s is not a complete mis-understanding, because I can see the words could mean as you take it, so I feel now compelled to tell the story….

Many of these lines I originally conceived a very, very long time ago. I was quite young and drifting and had fallen insanely in love with a young girl who then would not be loved. I was 22 she was 17. After a short and tumultuous few months (isn’t it interesting, by the way, how certain chaotic short periods of time can stay in the mind long after other months and years of stability have become a mnemonic blur?) she ran from me. And I never saw her again. Not like I didn’t try. I remember hitchhiking desperately though cold and wet days when nothing else mattered, because I had heard she might be at her sister’s or her mother’s house, only to get there and be turned away. Many months later I heard through a friend of a friend that this girl had had a child, but had not been sure who the father might actually be. The person who had seen this child, a little girl, said she looked just like me. Emotionally, this wrecked me. Tried to find her, heard she left the state, never heard from her again. The words that came to me back then were slightly different. ‘Just another hobo who wrote words and had the time and walked the roads and stood inside the rain no-one had stood before. And a lonely girl who still waits though days escape ... her door’ I wrote once these words and many of the other’s on any scrap of paper I could find at the time, afraid I would forget, but I never have. Yes, I am not a girl. But over the years I have spent so much time in my mind picturing that little girl along many a lonely road’s walk, that when I went to write them down again, I guess I made myself her and me. The last 2 lines are new. Maybe it could have read, ‘…I’ll not be her again.â€

I’m so glad that you liked it.

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Ah, just so. Thanks for the clarification of your revelations. Our exchange here does, however, point to the fragile nature of poetry, its need for clarity (in some cases) due to the opportunities for misconceptions or perhaps optimistically termed alternate interpretations.

There really is no right nor wrong in poetry, there is only the recording of feelings. But what is of prime importance is thoughtful reading, rereading, adjustments for clarity to engage and benefit a perspective estranged to the author's feelings, prior to putting that piece before the eyes of that stranger.

Good writing to you, J Hill.

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and now for my more wordy response. ;)

Upon first reading, my interpretation was of a friendship, and of one of the pair having died. It really touched my heart in that way. I don't know about poetry and the various styles, and I sense this one probably fits no real "style," something I appreciate, since I write that way, as well.

The sense of loss, and of coming to finally realize that loss, is wrenching. Maybe why I liked it so much... been there.

Upon second reading, and third, I felt the same, so I know it wasn't a fluke!

When I read your interpretation, Ron, I was actually surprised that there could be a lover sentiment (of any persuasion) held within... it didn't stike me as a romantic thing. Weird to know that's exactly what it was...

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To you both my gratitude, again, for the kind and insightful words. Yet, I have to say, I don’t agree completely Steel.

Poetry is the careful conveyance of feeling, yes. However I enjoy it a bit more as art than craft. I like a poet to play somewhat dangerously with emotion, imagery and words the way an abstract painter might risk mis-understanding by daring to explore the outer boundaries of color, shade and shape. In this way, I’d say, art is, or can be perceived to each individual differently, and each can take a varied meaning just as valid, while different as any other’s, including the creator. Even while the palette of feelings we all share is the same.

I‘d rather the artist allowed me to form my own reactions.

Art is often born of great personal storms, but when shared becomes, in a way, the emotional property of all. Given meaning by each person's own unique experience. And the exact reason for each line and form that falls is just one of those things that none, not even the artist may know for sure. Yes, fore-thought, review and practice are indeed important. Still, the most meaningful works to me seem the result of a serendipity of chaos more than any careful planning, and are open to interpretation.

That any painting, sculpture, a song or group of words can induce any feelings of any kind, even those unintended, I would say is a great reward and an equal risk.

Only my opinion and I’m often wrong.

So I'll just thank you once again.

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I appreciate your feelings toward art, JHill and completely agree with your assessment of poetry in that context; reiterating only that I normally find the overuse of the word "and" in a poetry piece akin - within the context of your art analogy - to the artist using a magic marker to circle a good brush stroke, in order that the viewer not miss it.

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