>Baptized in sentiments foreign to my heart
>
>I part stagnant waters with streaming soliloquies
>
>Rows of flows ripple like flat pebbles skipping beats
>
>As time retreats --->>> rolling backwards in panoramic
>mindframes
>
>It dances across glassy waters with random rhythms …
>reminiscing
>
>
>
>I remember …
>
>How your words pierced parchment paper – dripping
>
>Thoughts, conceptions, philosophies, reflections – dipping
>
>In and out of consciousness
>
~so well written and thought out (it seems). and as always, a pretty decent flow.


>
>Alas … I failed to check on you … to see how you were doing
>
>Picking up pieces of dreams … steadily patching & glue~ing
>
>:':':'Fragments & destiny chips':':':
>
>Walking tightrope tachometers -- speeding thru life doing
>flips
>
>
>
>I feel you tho …
>
>Reaching out thru proverbial portals ... Touching tender
>thought tendrils
>
>Brushing softly across my cheeks – making me *smile*
>
>Subliminal criminal in the skin of a cynical child
>
~and above as well. i love the alliteration you've got going on and the pairing of "cynical" and "child," definitely a clever move.


>
>So tell me dear – how've you been?
>
>Is life treating you fair?
>
>Gas has gone ^UP^ -- Employment is down
>
>But do you even care?
>
~and finally here. i thought it ended solidly. definitely a favorite from you. you stepping up and out, getting your poetic|lyrical brolic on, i see. *nods* great work.


my contribution:

i miss your scent

ain't shit but the rent,
gotta new job, new car, new puppy, and
new way of thinkin', still time passes
and i ain't been feelin like i used to
since you.

i miss the way you would glance
at me when you awakened to a new day;
eyes wide, mouth dry w/ just a bit
of juice still remaining from the night before.
you adored how i slid out of bed;
hair wrapped up, booty laced in your boxers
making my way to the bathroom for a morning
piss.

it's all i can do to forget you
and that sweet taste of your kiss.
i been up, down, above, beyond, and around
all instances of our past and still i cannot
seem to come up with a better excuse other than
"we just grew apart."

you always wanted to mentor, i always wanted to
teach, and now we're doing sort of what
we've wanted to do, but we're still not
within reach of our total aspirations.
my mother asked about you the other day,
as she usually does during our phone conversations.
she'll never see another "boyfriend" as a
living, breathing, entity as she did you.

with all that's going on,
the world on its last leg w/
turmoil and strife, i still manage to
sit back, remember you, remember us,
but, i've finally let go of the pain
from not being your wife. that's progress,
wouldn't you say so?

©Tremaine L. Loadholt 2008 June 27


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Art is man's constant effort to create for himself a
different order of reality from that
which is given to him ©Chinua Achebe