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Martin Vann Poetsville / United States, Male, 75
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  • POEM: Death &Amp; Co. by Sylvia Plath (10/17/2007 9:41:00 PM)

    I see and feel the beauty of the bloody truth, yet the subect itself, may escape me. There may be truth in the assumption that some Poets do not care if the reader 'guesses correctly, ' the subject/topic of their poem. Some are quite satisfied to cause the reader to postulate, to present ideas, no matter how far off the mark they may be, they did, think. I wish Sylvia would reply to this comment, but I don't 'think, ' she will, but she may smile quietly, forvever.

  • POEM: Death &Amp; Co. by Sylvia Plath (10/16/2007 11:48:00 PM)

    Hello Brian,

    You seem to have some fans showing up to hear the words of your heart. I was just browsing around the site as I'm new here and came across your name. Liked the name, so thought I'd look at what your heart had to offer. Read, heard and felt enough to know, your're a long way from being dead my friend. The pain is there, the source is unknown, you did'nt say and there is no need.

    One of my favorite actors who always seemd to be himself on screen, Was Marion Frances, we know him as John Wayne. I'm sure he suffered some pain over that before he changed it. In one of his movies he said, 'Into every life a little rain must fall.' I know you feel like its time to board Noah's arc, but, the sun has never let us down so, when you see it in the morning, try and appreciate its warmth if you do, you will also feel the strength to manage the problems in your life at the moment.

    Talk about a bad day, read a few poems by Robert Stevens, it might give you insight to the pain of others, misery loves company is not my point here. Its just a good read, you have talent and can learn more from Robert's writings.

    Oh, if I didn't appreicate your poetic presentation, I wouldn't have said a word. You'll do, and You'll do fine.

  • POEM: A Child's Nightmare by Robert Graves (10/14/2007 9:36:00 PM)

    My initial reaction was of a small child, haunted by this cat-like-demon that prayed upon its victim at will, from a very young age into the mature years. The cat, cat, cat, became lap, lap, lap. The image of a black cat, of course, not at its bowl, but hunched down and cautiously, lapping blood from a pool & never getting it's fill.

    Upon further investigation for meaning; This creature has no other goal other than to continuously assure itself that the victim is 'aware, ' of it's presence and there is nothing that can be done about it as if it were a, cancer of the mind and sole.

    The creature is born of the chil's imagination and the child has/had the power at some time to destroy the demon, however, the creature has become the power, leaving the victim without the will.

    In time, common sense did prevail, but its presence was not without departure, for by some incident or through retrospect, the lapping cat returns as before. I can see the 'night train.' as being the state of sleep with but one passenger aboard.

    I'm not sure if High Wood is a place or a sacrificial alter, but the coming of sleep/dream, has reopened the door for the demon to continue to feed/drink. I see the image of a cat as its enjoying its demonic foreplay while towering over the victim as if to allow time for contemplation of its fate.

    The victim through the corse of all this hell, in proclamation of self-defeat, renders up his spirit and sole in acceptance of the obvious outcome, a demise by uncommon cause.
    I enjoyed this work very much. I could in-vision Robert Graves and Edgar Allen Poe sitting beside each other at the edge of an unused grave and discussing the good old days.

    I don't knw the date this poem was written, but the term Morphia, morphine, was the most common pain-killer durin WWW I. So, I wonder if this poem is not a battle ground tribut of some kind?