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05-29-2004, 07:31 PM | #1 |
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Locked Out
By: Amy Aumick 2004
Sitting on a curb On the Trail Listening to the buzz Of traffic as it rolls by. Waiting for the locksmith To open up my car. Wearing daisy dukes And some knee high boots. Hoping that the Working Ladies Switching, bewitching Don't confuse me for one of them. Early, the sun just risen Chill of Florida mossy mornings Not yet humid or 100 degrees Sizzling, melting me. A busted CD glints rainbows Against my pen. A couple sits aside waiting For something cool to happen. She reading the news, Black newsprint Convoluding her fingertips With images of War And dead babies in Iraq. He, sipping coffee, yawning, Looks over to her. Their lips moving In cadence to the Rumbly sounds of work trucks. Tires spinning Red ants moving, streaming Along the concrete. I am sitting in their path Watching side to side As I write. Hoping they don't bite As they wind their way Around stubby cigarette butts And my coffee cup. Lifting my behind Like some giant drawbridge To let them pass by. Flicking one away Just for fun. Mortally wounding a small one Just because I can. The lady in waiting, Now bored with human tragedy, Turns to the comics To read commentary By the late Charles Schultz, Doonesbury, Garfield and Family Circle. She smiles, though not at me. I am invisible here, In dark glasses Sipping, scratching, looking Like some junkie with Wild curls strung out around My face. Morning, I am mourning A lost life Stuck in the ignition Like my lost set of keys. But the bay doors open and A New Day dawns. |
05-29-2004, 07:45 PM | #2 |
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Poetry is a wide open area where many participate in it. There are many fields. You are a natural at your own unique field.
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05-29-2004, 08:39 PM | #3 |
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Aimee, what a picture you have painted in words. Outstanding. I love how you ended it. Sort of hits you between the eyes. Nice, nice work!
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05-29-2004, 10:14 PM | #4 |
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Thank you Torn...
And Kerri. I have only been writing about emotions this past year, but to paint pictures with words is also an important aspect of the poet's responsibility...To show our world in a twisted light of truth as only one unique personlity can see it.
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05-29-2004, 10:22 PM | #5 |
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Well said, Aimee!
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05-29-2004, 11:19 PM | #6 |
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I love it Aimee!! And the last line is my favorite.
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05-30-2004, 03:27 AM | #7 |
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Aim aside from the deep stuff you have written ya, know what i can relate to this one too, The Wating For The Locksmith To Unlock My Car, HaHaHa, I Dont Know About the Dasiy Dukes HaHa, The World When You See Back And Look At It They Look Like Cartoons,
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Hush child I,ll tell you why you have Loved Me when you were weak you have given me unselfishly Kept you From Falling Falling everywhere But Your Kness you set me free to live my life you become my Reason To Survive The Great Divide you Set Me Free Ooh Our Love Is Beautiful Ooh isn,t This Beautiful Child It Seems You Have Been My Everything |
05-31-2004, 09:51 PM | #8 |
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Beautiful poem Amy!! It's like I could see it all in my mind as the world passed by!
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06-02-2004, 01:58 AM | #9 |
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Great observation, and then just to put it into such a good poem! Awesome job Aimee.
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