Thursday, January 12, 2012

Broken Cored






Broken Cored




I think about that black
gas oven night;
how you  talked me into it
the delirium, the smoke
and the insanity
how you changed me
from riches to rags
reluctant to retread
oblivious to obsessed
before you left.
One broken spoke
brings down the ferris wheel;
one rancid memory
spoils the whole barrel of
dreamapples.




January 2012




55 apple slices for the G-man





22 comments:

  1. Powerful poem. I enjoyed reading it.

    All the best
    Jack Edwards

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    1. one rancid memory destroys the whole barrel of dream apples for sure...

      the black gas oven night is a great descriptor too

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  2. Heart like a (ferris) wheel? Once you rend it, you can't mend it.

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  3. spoils the whole barrel of
    dreamapples.

    So sad and this happens to so many people! My son is off at college... a fun place, a dangerous place... :)

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  4. "One broken spoke
    brings down the ferris wheel"

    That is awesome!

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  5. I so hear you. Had me one of those rotten apples once.

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  6. The Jackson Five!!!!

    I loved this Hedge. You are writing so that even a dolt like me can understand them..Thanks
    You are so cool!
    Loved your 55
    Thanks for playing, thanks for your great support, and have a Kick Ass Week-End...G

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    Replies
    1. The Jackson 5--you slay me. May much kick-assing occur on your end also. (No, not that end...)

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  7. Beautiful poem. Spoiled apples are such a shame.

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  8. A lovely 55. Dare say, do hate when it all comes crashing down. Riches to rags, indeed. Love the "black gas oven night", conjures such a feel. Happy Friday, HW ~

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    Replies
    1. Happy Friday, Angela. Loved your politically potent 55.

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  9. Terrific write, perfect title, amazing seeds delivered here.

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  10. That machine scares me, hedgewitch :) But I loved your 55. No one should ever be allowed to spoil dreamapples.

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  11. true that...love the way you convey wisdom in pictures everyone can relate to..and powerfully told in just 55 words hedge..

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  12. Hearts are such animal organs, aren't they? Open and trusting until given the boot, after which they are never quite the same organ of belief ever again. My mother never spoke with another man (except priest and sons) after she and my dad divorced in '77 ... When Michael Jackson was the boy he later became the pederast of, he sang about getting beyond the one bad apple, but later knowledge made his plea suspect, the same way that when Elvis sang "Suspicious Minds" we couldn't help but wonder if there was a bit of the Devil arguing his case from a proffered blues suede shoe ... But then, obversely, as the fundamentalists choir, it only takes a spark to get the fire burning; or, as the minnesingers troped on old church airs, it only takes a kiss to get the heart yearning once again. - Brendan

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    1. True--and who's to say that the heart doesn't need an occasional bonfire of all its vanities, so that years of mess is cleared away and returned to the soil as ashes and compost. Perhaps it teaches us that settling is not as bad as pointless and blind grasping, or that trust is something to give a bit less profligately.

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  13. Oh dear! Snow White gone very dark indeed! Hansel and Gretel at carnival (at night!) (Without the bread crumbs.) And then there's the whole Eve thing. A really interesting poem. The dreamapples wonderful. K.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks K. Like your sharp fairytale analogies.

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  14. Great piece, loved the angle you took!

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  15. The title and picture got me first and then the poem made my jaw drop... wow!

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  16. There are powerful images here, and a most unusual picture. Thank you.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg