when broken feels like whole at 3am in a taxi stand
it's monday... there's never any taxis out on monday but i wait here anyway. waiting for daylight, for tuesday, for a second chance though i feel it only fair to say i am currently on my fifth second chance this week... it's monday.
relatives though not through blood but sympathy
Rome wasnt built in a day but it near brought me to ruin in one night. the poverty of my self - defence has mocked me ever since... where is God on mondays?
reluctant to smile for fear it be misinterpreted
i sit here trying to reconcile God and mondays, second chances and 3am while casually waving a cigarette like some bored star signing an autograph for their (5000th) biggest fan
when broken feels like whole on Godless mondays...
It's like I can feel your soul crying, searching for a home, a safe place. I love the second chance for the 5th time this week. Excellent. You really shine through. Excellent. Liz
This is a little different style for you. I like it. Still has that smoky feel prevalent in all your stuff (reminds me of dream[less] strangers). Well thought-out and perfectly articulated.
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on August 25, 2007
oooo..i really like the stark simplistic reality; and the internal structure/rhyme and knowing that composes this piece so silently, willfully.. .trying to decide if writing it was worth the energy. ..but knowing the beauty in the breaking down is eventually around the coffee cup.. .solitary...thinking....pining for more.. . more than...more than something....more than mere existence .... a life. . .. not just being, but BEing-- --
superb~
ness
This is the first of your poems that I've read Cedric. There's a name for the genre in which one writes prose then two line stanzas but for I can't think of the name right now. One of the writers on my website writes in this form often. But, I can't remember his name either right now. Where is God on a Saturday when I need Him to kick up my memory bank? I'm off to read more of your poetry. I like this one very much.
Reviewed by Victor Buhagiar (Reader)
Reviewed on August 25, 2007
Is Monday Godless? Of course not. It just that we, poor deluded humans, cannot understand God's ways, and often blame Him for the misdeeds of others. Not easy to think this way, I know. When we are hurt, we have to mark time for healing, but healing comes if we offer our hurt to Jesus who was hurt for us. End of sermon, poetry wise, this is intense and deep and sad. But then I love sad poetry. Victor
You took me there and set the mood: one doesn't read your poetry, they become it. That is the hallmark of a great writer. Thank you for taking me on the journey. Well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on August 25, 2007
Has the same raw feel to it as the film, coffee and cigerettes.
Many amazing lines here within your prosetry...
reluctant to smile
for fear it be misinterpreted <---- so often it is, as i warn my sisters and nieces....
When the glass is broken one doesn't say that the glass is a little broken, it will like saying that a lice has dogs.
When it comes to God, He or you are on the wrong calendar page, because on mondays He is supposed to be overseeing everything, at job, while on sundays He is supposedly taking a well deserved rest.
Maybe it was sunday with one too many for you, or He is getting fed up with all our bunch.
Wheres is a God when you need one?...or was it a cop?
Georg
Nice work J and yes you put us in this dark dreay misty early morn wishing we were anywhere but. We have all gone thorugh second chances, how many times, I guess we are all human.
Thank you for sharing.
Newfie Hugs, Rose
currently on my fifth second chance this week... it's monday.
No more descriptive phrase ever written. What a magnificent piece you wrote here! Rome wasn't built in a day but it near brought me to ruin in one night. What wonderful poetic angst here. This is about the best I have read this morning!
Nice...interesting...those times when we feel emotion that carrys us into nowhere, you write those emotions within a poetic display that one can see another's struggles with the very facts of life and yet....still broken or whole?
Intense J and such deep brooding thoughts to share, the images came alive as I read picturing a dark, drab dirty bench, a too tired young lady and the evels of life lurking in the shadows...but too, the hope that tomorrow is always another start and another chance.
Enjoyed this one.
Rosetta was born in 1909 as the youngest of ten children. The family had more laughter than money and neighbors would knock on their door to ask, "Can we come in and laugh, too?"
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superb~
ness
You took me there and set the mood: one doesn't read your poetry, they become it. That is the hallmark of a great writer. Thank you for taking me on the journey. Well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Many amazing lines here within your prosetry...
reluctant to smile
for fear it be misinterpreted <---- so often it is, as i warn my sisters and nieces....
One can feel the raw emotions in this piece...
Peace,
Dan
by Tuesday I'd be in a nut house...lol
Enjoyed reading.
Love, Hugs and Smiles,
Pat
When it comes to God, He or you are on the wrong calendar page, because on mondays He is supposed to be overseeing everything, at job, while on sundays He is supposedly taking a well deserved rest.
Maybe it was sunday with one too many for you, or He is getting fed up with all our bunch.
Wheres is a God when you need one?...or was it a cop?
Georg
Thank you for sharing.
Newfie Hugs, Rose
No more descriptive phrase ever written. What a magnificent piece you wrote here! Rome wasn't built in a day but it near brought me to ruin in one night. What wonderful poetic angst here. This is about the best I have read this morning!
even God rested, maybe it was on Mondays...
nice work Cedric...
enjoyed...
Art Sun...
Enjoyed this one.
Hugs
Fee