Origami Ghosts~

It was an any other day kind of day

for an origami girl

except

that the birds made nests in my clavicles

and the ginger cat couldn’t find my bones or skin

to rub his body against

 

my nursemaid walked through my petticoats

calling my name

leaving consonants and vowels tapping

against my boots

and the sun pushed the hair out of my eyes

to fragment a stained glass window

not next to me

but through me

 

paint pulled itself from the threads of my sleeves

dripped in multi red shades

and globules

peppering wolf’s body blending through my see through boots

the woodsman swinging his axe with manly abandon

 

the cocoa mug sat heavy in my palm

not yet knowing

it was being held

by a ghost

as the birds went about

making plush nests

in my secret

origami clavicles

 

 

copyright:2011vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author's Note

poets and their many lives~ nin times thrice and back again~

Reviews

[Kerry O'Connor]

The thing about your poetry is how easily I am able to see the surreal images: that's your gift as a writer, and it is no mean feat, to present totally new images to the reader's eye and let them see.

and the sun pushed the hair out of my eyes
to fragment a stained glass window...

paint pulled itself from the threads of my sleeves
dripped in multi red shades

[LilyT]

Dear god, girl, you have me gulping my own tears. The method you utilize to convey imagery here is astonishing; the emotional factor has serious impact. The soft manner, the almost "I'm shrugging cause this is what it is"mentality." presentation imbues the story behind the words with all the more impressions. You paint with words like no one else;

paint pulled itself from the threads of my sleeves

dripped in multi red shades

and globules

peppering wolf’s body blending through my see through boots

the woodsman swinging his axe with manly abandon

[Reese38]

the cocoa mug sat heavy in my palm

not yet knowing

it was being held

by a ghost

as the birds went about

making plush nests

in my secret

origami clavicles






There's a specific, thrilling factor in the backbone of this poem that explores the perimeters of composition. The images are are given mobility by the intricate concurrences throughout. Do you even know how spectacular you are? Are you conscious of what you're doing with rewriting language? I believe it's all innate for you, and that makes it all the more elite and distinctive.

[Aidz]

A shimmer on the fabric of lost time.......

[Wildfleour]

Indeed, so often I feel like a ghost, or visitor, or spectator to my own life, unfolding, changing, disappearing, reappearing and wandering again.

[.]

again you create a metaphorically kaleidoscope of vivid imagery..I like the idea of origami girls because you can reshape yourself..if you want to

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

I love swinging an axe with Manly abandon...
Some great visual art leapt out of this one. I dig the origami/ghost thing.
Lovely, as ever.

[Loki Ragna-rock]

I like your back-again.
I like your back, again. I'm back.
Again with the grammar.

I'm back again
with the punctuation.

[asdarkeyesclose]

'the cocoa mug sat heavy in my palm

not yet knowing

it was being held

by a ghost

as the birds went about

making plush nests

in my secret

origami clavicles'

i liked the dreamscape context of this poem, the images startling and sophisticated opening unexpected panoramas of thoughts and ideas. some unusual juxtapositions too that elevated the poetry, i especially liked ' not next to me but through me,' quite surreal and brilliant. stunning!

[Robin]

metaphysical metamorphisis in a recursive font , beautiful and haunting music , surreal dance verbalized in chromatic polytopes