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Andidote II - At Night
by
Axilea M Uzumcuoglu
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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She... quiet lights
Florence Nightingale
Mother Teresa? -
At night, soft dark blue
and streets and parks
where roundness and cameras,
humming cables,
electric birds, sing all
to sleep
and security is the illness.
She becomes
the siren and the flag
the needle to cure, to burst
the needy system.
In the vision of Utopia
is born the cityscape at dawn,
she opens her eyes gently scratching
the dust off her
skin-escape.
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| Reviewed by Edwin Hurdle |
2/10/2009 |
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Beautiful and wonderful poem,take care
Edwin |
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| Reviewed by Charlie |
1/2/2009 |
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Is this from a painting? I can't recall the artist, but I know I've seen this oil of a blue city night, and an unblinking eye, just watching... it fits perfectly.
I "get" this poem in a very auditory way. That line, "electric birds" is brilliant. When you're eyes are drowsy in the city, all that train-clattering, wire-buzzing, bell-ringing clatter, is subdued-- becomes white noise. But somewhere --about 15 minutes before you've decided you're really going to wake up, the city wakes up first, and you surrender your sleep to the day. I also loved that scratchy eyelids at the end-- and the term "skin-escape". They must have been delicious dreams.
--Charlie |
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| Reviewed by Kate Burnside |
12/31/2008 |
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| In our visions of Utopia there is no need of the healing heart of woman, the Florence Nightingale and Mother Teresa. It is often our damaged and wounded qualities as women that make us the most beneficent, bountiful and yielded, and pain can be courted as a means of self-bandaging, the tourniquet applied to stem our own flow of need. Sorry, this is an off-beat response and approach to a highly elliptical poem and one that leaves all in the mind of the reader and wonderfully open in its interpretation. I admire, as always, your power with words, crafting ideas and suggestion that fit neatly together like jigsaw pieces, distinct and fascinating as fragments and yet creating a whole new picture when pieced together. Bless you and thank you. Wishing you health and wholeness of being in 2009. Kate xx |
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| Reviewed by La Belle Rouge |
12/31/2008 |
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| I loved the ambiance and the images, well penned and enjoyed. |
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| Reviewed by Liana Margiva |
12/31/2008 |
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| Very beautiful!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva |
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| Reviewed by Michelle Mead |
12/30/2008 |
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| You sketched this with a pen with little ink and the urgency to use it wisely, great stuff. Happy New Year~ Michelle |
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| Reviewed by Dale Clark |
12/30/2008 |
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| Awesome! This touches the soul. |
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| Reviewed by Sheila Roy |
12/29/2008 |
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Axilea,
This morning I saw a homeless man and I thought of "Andidote - She lifts" - it was that haunting. That man & your poem have been on/off my mind all day. This part 2 haunts just as much. Maybe those on the street are the only ones who see society clearly. A brilliant continuation here. Hugs,
Sheila |
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| Reviewed by Elizabeth Price |
12/29/2008 |
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| Brilliant. Liz |
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| Reviewed by Ronald Hull |
12/29/2008 |
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The oldest profession has always been dangerous, as you so eloquently put.
Ron |
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| Reviewed by Gene Williamson |
12/29/2008 |
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| Axilea, you handle the night much better than I. Especially, in the last five lines of this highly visual, animated work. -gene. |
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| Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner |
12/29/2008 |
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Stunning - there is comfort in these lines, Axilea. Well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. |
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| Reviewed by Felix Perry |
12/29/2008 |
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wow...
This is deep and filled with such passionate emotion that it left me almost speechless...well done. My hat is off to you.
hugs
fee |
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| Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado |
12/29/2008 |
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Great write, Axilea; well done!
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D |
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| Reviewed by Ted Bossis |
12/29/2008 |
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| to fascinate in the realness of your own light & then some .~. most interesting illumination ~._()_.~ evol ted |
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