The Raggy Dolls

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Squawk
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The Raggy Dolls

Post by Squawk » Thu Mar 08, 2007 4:44 pm

The tide shall gently caress my feet
As I pick up a couple of grains of sand.
That's when I'll realise
The Sun's burning light glimmering
Off the wet sand,
And I'll sigh.
That shall be perfect.

I want it all to go as planned,
And if it does not
Then I shall kill myself
In a fit of self-respect.
I am a doll that must be correct,
All must be correct or you are not accepted
On the production line.
The less you know
The more you rage.

This is the final stanza
I shall ever write.
There shall be no more,
There would only be pain
And rejection.
My perfect product of my endeavours
Is but a delusion.

-----------------

Aw shucks. What a gasbag. :thumbsup:
I lost what I found.

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heinzs
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Post by heinzs » Thu Mar 08, 2007 5:00 pm

Ok. here's my suggestion for stanza one:

The tide shall gently caress my feet
As I pick up a couple of grains of sand.
That's when I'll realise
The Sun's burning light glimmering
Off the wet sand,
And I'll sigh.
That shall be perfect.

The tide shall gently caress my feet
As I pick up a few grains of sand
And I'll realize the burning sunlight
Glimmering
And sigh...
Perfection!

:cool:
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Squawk
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Post by Squawk » Thu Mar 08, 2007 5:05 pm

That is very cool, thanks.
I lost what I found.

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Berlie
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Post by Berlie » Thu Mar 08, 2007 5:52 pm

:2cents:

In the first stanza
The tide shall gently caress my feet
As I pick up a couple of grains of sand.
That's when I'll realise
The Sun's burning light glimmering
Off the wet sand,
And I'll sigh.
That shall be perfect.
The repeat of "sand" in line 2 and 5 made me stumble or something when I hit the second sand. Maybe try reworking that line without the word sand. :shrug:
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Squawk
Clearwater Poet
Posts: 66
Joined: Thu Dec 21, 2006 8:20 am
Location: Essex

Post by Squawk » Fri Mar 09, 2007 12:51 pm

The tide shall gently caress my feet
Whilst I pick up a handful of sand.
The ground down granite
Shall glimmer; sunlit.
Then the sigh comes...
Perfection!

I want it all
To go as planned,
And if it does not
Then I shall die
In a fit of self-respect.
I am a doll that must be correct,
The production line shall not accept
If I am anything less.
My ignorance fuels the rage.

This is the final stanza
I shall ever write.
There shall be no more,
There would only be pain
Rejection.
My perfect product of my endeavours
Is but a delusion.

---------------

OK a bit of a switch around about and that. If only I could remember what I was trying to get at when I wrote these things. :roll:
I lost what I found.

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heinzs
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Post by heinzs » Fri Mar 09, 2007 2:09 pm

:cool: :cool: :cool:

I like it when a poem matures like this one...
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shawn2005
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Post by shawn2005 » Wed Mar 21, 2007 12:25 pm

i'll be honest. since this is the portion of the forum to do so in regards
to work. to me it is boring, fluffy, nonsensical, has no recognizable structure, it isn't beautiful or 'poetic'. it is trying to be bigger than what it is. it's a much to do about nothing mess. :no:

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Squawk
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Location: Essex

Post by Squawk » Wed Mar 21, 2007 2:09 pm

All of it? Every single fibre?

Oh dear. Maybe you could say how it could improve?
I lost what I found.

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Graeme
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Post by Graeme » Wed Mar 21, 2007 4:38 pm

Do you mind if I play too?

The tide shall gently caress my feet shall - omit - gently caresses
Whilst I pick up a handful of sand. Whilst - While
The ground down granite
Shall glimmer; sunlit. shall - omit- glimmers
Then the sigh comes...
Perfection!

I want it all
To go as planned, To go as planned - omit
And if it does not and if it does not - and if not
Then I shall die
In a fit of self-respect.

I am a doll that must be correct, correct - perfect
The production line shall not accept shall - will
If I am anything less. If I am anythiny less - anything less
My ignorance fuels the rage.

This is the final stanza
I shall ever write. shall - will
There shall be no more, shall -will
There would only be pain
Rejection.
My perfect product of my endeavours My - The
Is but a delusion.

I hope I didn't change your meaning - but I did have fun playing with your poem.
This above all to thine own self be true.

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