deepundergroundpoetry.com
a collection of short poems [5]
headland to hillside
the wind
thrashes blades into waves of silvery-green
majestic gliders
swoop into shadows
below canopies of swaying torsos
inferiority
echoes where invisible planes
drone above brewing clouds
within this
disjointed world
from cobalt blue to illusions of choking monkeys
i relinquish
my faith
in the endless arc of the horizon
in the moon and sun
to ever rise and fall in symmetry again
and über alles
where you left me hanging
after turning your back on the summit
i sensed a skerrick of hope
that you wanted me
to push on alone
wedlock deadlock
why are you
neglecting me
me neglecting you
it's not deliberate
yetis [err on a paradox of error]
mending myths with yarns of truth
dealing spades in a game called truce
ohforfarksake
we can't both be eggs
said mother hen
a heavy reminder
held by masking tape
a severed roach leg forms a question mark
precariously
hanging over my head
Published 20th Jan 2017
| Edited 9th Jun 2019
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likes 15
reading list entries 2
comments 21
reads 1082
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
20th Jan 2017 5:27am
Damn right, dog! The shit is so off the hook, nobody bothers calling me no more... [crickets chirp, followed by.... awkward silence].
Thanks heaps, man. Peace!
Thanks heaps, man. Peace!
Anonymous
20th Jan 2017 2:54pm
The German in the first read literally hangs me every time I read the first part... why the German? That hangs over me more than the fkn roach leg. The gap between the last two lines is a genius move in producing hope while sending you plummeting straight to the ground again.
The second poem: which came first, the chicken, or the egg? This poem implies that two eggs are the facilitators rather than the cause. Also another question.
Third poem: that question, that roach leg. It's said that cockroaches are the only beings on earth that could survive a nuclear blast. I can't help feeling that the doubt in your mind is taking a similar blow to it's existence.
All three are gems in their own right. Thank you for the read.
The second poem: which came first, the chicken, or the egg? This poem implies that two eggs are the facilitators rather than the cause. Also another question.
Third poem: that question, that roach leg. It's said that cockroaches are the only beings on earth that could survive a nuclear blast. I can't help feeling that the doubt in your mind is taking a similar blow to it's existence.
All three are gems in their own right. Thank you for the read.
20th Jan 2017 6:07pm
California is my guess Kidd-O ...*German* Correct me if I'm wrong Hep-cat*
Why the German? Maybe it's a bloodline thing or it could be a Dead Kennedys thing or it could even be that it felt and sounded right to me at the time. Most often I don't question the creative process, it doesn't feel like a choice, it just feels right, and most often, when the creativity is over, it just makes sense once the meaning is deciphered. It's kinda like interpreting a dream.
Thanks heaps for your thorough analysis and generous comments, Missy.
Thanks heaps for your thorough analysis and generous comments, Missy.
20th Jan 2017 6:09pm
Lovely Write Good Sir- but painful- in the way life sometimes rolls...but it IS pen-Beauty!!!
My muse is a hand grenade and poetry is the shrapnel... and that line will likely feature in my next poem, heh.
Thanks heaps for your comments and your appreciation for the poetry of Jello Biafra.
Thanks heaps for your comments and your appreciation for the poetry of Jello Biafra.
20th Jan 2017 10:32pm
1. I applaud the unique imagery in the first, especially stanzas two and three describing the birds and trees. The essence of the verse seems to encapsulate a trek of two, one turning back before reaching the peak. Yet, not expecting the other to relinquish the quest. Skerrick was perfect choice definition wise - as though a piece of you wanted to carry on and not be expected to turn back - but a very minute piece. The entire verse capitulates unrequited love.
2. This dialogue reminds me of another familiar one. But I digress. There comes a point in all relationships where you don't know which way to turn; it becomes like walking on eggshells. You're both trying too hard and lose yourself in a vicious cycle. Someone has to take the reins and be there if the dozen eggs break.
3. I do that. Ponder over shit that shapes itself. Like a hair that's come loose in the tub adhering to the porcelain in some form that discernibly poses a question. Never thought to write about it, though.
Good stuff. Glad to see you return to the Deep Side.
2. This dialogue reminds me of another familiar one. But I digress. There comes a point in all relationships where you don't know which way to turn; it becomes like walking on eggshells. You're both trying too hard and lose yourself in a vicious cycle. Someone has to take the reins and be there if the dozen eggs break.
3. I do that. Ponder over shit that shapes itself. Like a hair that's come loose in the tub adhering to the porcelain in some form that discernibly poses a question. Never thought to write about it, though.
Good stuff. Glad to see you return to the Deep Side.
The first poem was written last year, inspired by a tragic story of a Australian woman dying on Mount Everest from altitude sickness after a decision was made that her husband would climb the summit without her. The event is somewhat the epitome of a love tragedy.
The second poem was my attempt to be humorous about the deadlock of wedlock... perhaps I should reconsider the title. Wedlock Deadlock?
And the third. Pondering shit that shapes itself... I like that. I think I'll run a comp using your words as the title. Thanks heaps, Ahavati for your awesome feedback.
The second poem was my attempt to be humorous about the deadlock of wedlock... perhaps I should reconsider the title. Wedlock Deadlock?
And the third. Pondering shit that shapes itself... I like that. I think I'll run a comp using your words as the title. Thanks heaps, Ahavati for your awesome feedback.
24th Jan 2017 6:00pm
21st Jan 2017 3:36am
all really good, but the last one is brilliant - I wish I had written that one :-)
For you to write the third poem, I recommend you get some paint and a brush and some masking tape, run the tape along the ceiling of your garage with the adhesive side partly exposed to trap the leg of an unsuspecting cockroach.
Thanks heaps for the read and comment, Mr Macleod from the clan Macleod.
Thanks heaps for the read and comment, Mr Macleod from the clan Macleod.
21st Jan 2017 8:48am
"you wanted me
to push on alone"
Brother you do what they don't expect you to
poetry chocked with pain and surprises Sir Prizes
to push on alone"
Brother you do what they don't expect you to
poetry chocked with pain and surprises Sir Prizes
24th Jan 2017 6:01pm
Ah, Mist-her Love. You honour me with such a title of acute of angina. I do my best, brother, to spread my misery across the underground resorting to guerrilla poetry.
4th Feb 2017 9:26pm
Oh, "a heavy reminder" could elope with my "curious hands" poem, it's about "daddy long legs"
"Headland Hillside" line after line of superb poetry, absolutely a gem of a poem. Wind, thrashing blades, waves of silvery green, and that is just in the first nine words. You packed so much into this piece and not once does it wane.
"wedlock deadlock" The title says it all really. Lol.
Bravo Mr Case. :)
"Headland Hillside" line after line of superb poetry, absolutely a gem of a poem. Wind, thrashing blades, waves of silvery green, and that is just in the first nine words. You packed so much into this piece and not once does it wane.
"wedlock deadlock" The title says it all really. Lol.
Bravo Mr Case. :)
11th Feb 2017 11:08am
Can you imagine, poems running away to get hitched and settling down to start an anthology? I think a heavy reminder and curious hands would make a perfect couple... stellar video poem btw. Thanks heaps for your comments, Magdalena. I'm stoked you enjoyed the poetry.
13th Feb 2017 7:31am
That would be an interesting anthology :) Diolch yn fawr Alexander and for the list add. :)
7th Feb 2017 2:11am
You could easily have gotten away with publishing these three poems (by the way, the "[5]" in the title made me think that there'd be five poems) separately, but as they are they complement each other nicely. The horror of the third is even more effective following as it does two more sedate and lyrical pieces.
The first poem is my favourite due to the clarity and sharpness of the imagery, which contributes to a moving spiritual atmosphere. That's also the poem which I think has the most of you, your personality, in it. The second poem feels a bit like a P.S. to that first one, so again, this trio has a good complementary quality.
The first poem is my favourite due to the clarity and sharpness of the imagery, which contributes to a moving spiritual atmosphere. That's also the poem which I think has the most of you, your personality, in it. The second poem feels a bit like a P.S. to that first one, so again, this trio has a good complementary quality.
Your observations of the first and second poems are most interesting, especially the bit about the post script. I wrote both poems in sequential order, or rather the poems were one poem, before I decided to seperate the poems into two. So really the poems do belong together... and the last poem came back from the dead.
Thanks heaps, Heslop, for casting your keen eye over my poems and taking the time to share your thoughts.
Thanks heaps, Heslop, for casting your keen eye over my poems and taking the time to share your thoughts.
19th Feb 2017 11:01pm
the first piece is just enough for me to feel ur fine poetics, poet. rather than dissecting each one, what is magical & truth of poetry is the poet's way of words, descriptions, interpretations, a pattern in the spin that draws & makes one feel. ur short poems are stellar proofs of ur magic, Case. bows . shine on. ( I feel where my long ways dissecting critique had gone for now:( will be back with more reads more words more feedbks I hope) tq:)
uma, I'm stoked that you're back posting your poetry, reading and commenting, regardless of whether you've come armed with your friendly scalpel.
It's funny, I don't think I'm capable of writing anything epic these days, it has been a struggle in the past, so short poems just feel like a gift, I'm just grateful to be creating anything at all, and to receive comments from respected and amazing poets like yourself is like finding money under he sofa cushions... I'm cheering.
It's funny, I don't think I'm capable of writing anything epic these days, it has been a struggle in the past, so short poems just feel like a gift, I'm just grateful to be creating anything at all, and to receive comments from respected and amazing poets like yourself is like finding money under he sofa cushions... I'm cheering.
