I believe we all gather little pieces of information from each other through our writing and than try to paint a picture of those people that interest us the most, and at times we don't always see the real picture, or some of us just are curious enough to come out and ask people questions about themselves.
In reality, we only let people know what we want to let them know. Now you have me thinking. lol
Plain I hope it never is, for then I'll be certain and that's the least lovable thing - like a leaf wafting in the wind, those sounds can wiggle their way in to my wishes, any day.
i'm sure you probably didn't mean for this to be read literally but i couldn't help but picture a coffee shop crowd, the writer being the self-aware subject of eavesdropping that relishes the enigma of out of context relationships.
"all the more tantalizing
for the details you miss" - i love this honest little poke at our own curious humanity. how the unknown is what is truly engaging. the mystery.
you have that rare gift emily, of spinning magical moments out of easily relatable daily life. i always enjoy reading your work.
Beautifully crafted poem. I particularly like the imagery throughout and in particular the third stanza. The last line/ word says to me that we need to invest a little more time in conversation and less to the sound byte in order to understand one another. So much to think about in those four little stanzas. Great job.
So Good!
Like the plays put on riverboats traveling up and down
the crowds lining the bank. No one really seeing all of it
and having to fill in the blanks for those who were missing
pieces. It was called a floating opera made known by a book
of the same name by John Barth.
When I worked at various facilities I used to slowly pass by talkers
and catch "snippets" then put pictures together.
This is a fantastic bit of sly frippery... a stolen moment in the lives of coffeehouse-goers. Something every human can relate to, having overhead a portion of some else's life and been intrigued. I usually write them into a story somehow.
What I love about this poem is how the voice of the snippet has a fully formed personality that relishes it's power over others. It is a big tease and knows it. It loves that you go out of your way to grasp it. You focus all of your attention on it and all it is is mist and shadow. It almost feeds on this human curiousity, this desire to know. And when it says "eventually" at the end, I don't believe a word of it. Love the diction used here. Very visual and visceral. Images come easy from this poem. Great job!
I think, if one thinks about it, poetry is but snippets of conversation, pieces of one's heart and soul, laid out before others. Rarely does one work paint the entire picture - but more is just a mere glimpse into whatever emotion lays within the writers' mind and heart at that particular moment of time. They become like snapshots in a sense. And, if we are lucky, if we truly let our inner selves speak, we do indeed cause a reader or two to come nearer and try to catch more.
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
spinning adventures,
like so much g.. more..