The Last Friday

The Last Friday is a poetry editing group. Once a month, we post a poem and then offer feedback to the other poems on the Forum. We're a friendly but honest group. We value each other deeply and desire for every poet to be published or become famous.


    I Don't Buy Tickets, But

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    Pat

    Posts : 642
    Join date : 2011-09-12

    I Don't Buy Tickets, But

    Post  Pat on Thu Oct 27, 2011 3:39 pm

    I look forward to any suggestions. And I thank you, Pat

    I Don’t Buy Tickets, But



    If I won a million dollars, I’d not object.

    More likely, I’d jump up, cry out

    and hug the ground like one gone mad.

    Nothing like the soft chime of a bell.





    When my bent mind straightened, we’d

    take a breath and fix that dent in your old

    gray truck and still pray daily to keep

    the holy joy found in a sleeping pond.



    If I won a million dollars,

    some just man, perhaps God’s shiny agent,

    could be hired to take hammer and nails

    and lay new shingles on our leaky roof.



    I’m sure I’d still wear a sensible dress,

    bear casseroles and molded salads,

    keep the same banging gate

    and give gentleness to the discontented.



    But, here, if I won a million dollars,

    I just might go demented, ignore kin,

    and ride the tides with those who’d

    brave my broken Picasso dreams.



    Probably why I don’t buy tickets. . . .



    Pat Durmon, 2011

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    tsukany

    Posts : 600
    Join date : 2011-05-21

    Pat's Offering

    Post  tsukany on Sat Oct 29, 2011 8:32 am

    Pat,
    I like the idea of this poem. I really like a couple of your
    personal images...casseroles and gray truck...leap off the page.
    I get lost in several places, the God stuff seems like additional
    material, inserted to take the reader somewhere...but the ending
    takes me back to the title and then the poem dies, an anecdote. I
    feel like you wanted more for the reader.





    I
    Don’t Buy Tickets, But



    If
    I won a million dollars, I’d not object.

    More
    likely, I’d jump up, cry out

    and
    hug the ground like one gone mad.

    Nothing
    like the soft chime of a bell.
    (the
    way this is punctuated this sentence is out of context.)

    When
    my bent mind straightened, we’d

    take
    a breath and fix that dent in your old
    (the
    gray truck detail is the irony I want to occur in all of the
    poem)
    gray
    truck and still pray daily to keep
    (does
    anyone actually pray for the "holy joy of sleeping ponds"?
    (daily?) I like the image but it seems forced.
    the
    holy joy found in a sleeping pond.


    If
    I won a million dollars,

    some
    just man, perhaps God’s shiny agent,
    (this
    entire stanza seems forced to me. Does it need to be
    here?)
    could
    be hired to take hammer and nails

    and
    lay new shingles on our leaky roof.


    I’m
    sure I’d still wear a sensible dress,
    (This
    is the gravity point of the poem for me. I was hooked. I
    became part of the poem...thanks)
    bear
    casseroles and molded salads,

    keep
    the same banging gate

    and
    give gentleness to the discontented. (This line lost me.
    I felt like you tried too hard to wax philosophical)


    But,
    here, if I won a million dollars,

    I
    just might go demented, ignore kin,
    (This
    is how I'd end the poem...Three lines of broken dementia...no
    resolution for the reader, no quatrain of completion)
    and
    ride the tides with those who’d

    brave
    my broken Picasso dreams.
    (I
    have no way to process "Picasso dreams" broken or
    otherwise. What does this mean? I want to know, but I
    have no clues for processing)

    Probably
    why I don’t buy tickets. . . .




    Pat
    Durmon, 2011

    Pat

    Posts : 642
    Join date : 2011-09-12

    Oh my! Oh my goodness!

    Post  Pat on Sat Oct 29, 2011 12:08 pm

    All I can think to say: Helpful to the max. I need your eyes on my work. Such good feedback.

    I'll edit when I get some Taxol out of my system. Meanwhile, I'm on hold. Will then look at your poem too.

    Meanwhile, know that this is helpful and I am grateful.

    Pat

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