Well Hello

[Danté]

Well Hello

I thought you’d be here already.
Buttons loose
sat in a puddle of hips held forward
unique anticipation.

Yes, I vacated some time ago
but dropped by to see who breathes
or ponder those who do not.

I hadn’t really though this far ahead.

So not for long I might add.

The pondering that is. I banished my
love of incomplete articles
in favour of banging a tight drum.
She tastes way better and rarely interrupts.

It is quieter here than I imagined.
A monopoly of sorts
with its nuts caught inside
a slack duality of banal strophes.

Like the antelopes on the upper plains
seeking the applause of termites
at the very thought
they might in turn reveal
their rain soaked shopping lists.
The ink bled, dried. Yet still they
yearn to find one common sense of awe.

Just like sugar
stuffed into their jaws until
they are filled with sand
while digging watery holes.
The bucket list barely amounting to
its upturned contents
but they still have the vanity to add a tiny flag.




*

[camus]

Danté,

Well hello again yourself.

Said in a very Terry-Thomas kind of way, unavoidable really.

It's hard to tell if this is a poem of the 'meta' variety or just a stream of consciousness/cut-up type of approach?

Either way i really like it. The energy, the ambiguity.

I hadn’t really though this far ahead.

is missing a 't'

and the metaphors are far reaching, perhaps not connecting as a whole, but vibrant and welcomed, good to see you posting again.

Cheers
Kris

[Suzanne]

Well Hello back at you, Danté!
It's a pleasure to read you again. I fly by every now and again but have not held a pen for a poem in a very long time.
I admit I am quite rusty. I had to stop though when that steely blue eye avatar popped up.

Oh, lol, your poem! These are the best lines IMHO:

I thought you’d be here already.
Buttons loose
sat in a puddle of hips held forward
unique anticipation.

I banished my
love of incomplete articles
in favour of banging a tight drum.
She tastes way better and rarely interrupts.

It is quieter here than I imagined.

It's a great visual snapshot, much going on. It made me smile, the protagonist holding and banging his tight drum looking around at empty puddles. It's the strongest image in the poem and very clear, in my understanding anyway. I want the protagonist to happily keep banging that drum! It stuck in my head. Perhaps enough to dance in those empty puddles.

Nice reading you, how about another?

Warmly,
Suzanne

[ray miller]

It is quieter here than I imagined.
A monopoly of sorts
with its nuts caught inside
a slack duality of banal strophes.

That says it all really.