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The Vigor of Mere Starflame · Poetry Short Short ·
Organised by Anon Y Mous
Word limit 100–2000
Show rules for this event
On Seeing a Beam in the Yoga Studio
A thousand little lights around the rafter twined
Yellow, dark, unseen though upon inspection
Close proximity
Evokes the tree from which the beam was made
As well the one who set their life by stars
Sensing yet their body pulse
In the emulsions of some crawling and confronting bark.

The lights, more unison than me—while I pretend vitality.
Legs knotted like a clutching trunk, curve at the knee, ungracefully.

The spine a bough that whacked from a sapling missed
On the walk
And my sappy arms unsure between palm or fist.

That swaying tower clime—
This breath, the sound of tree-high bristle-branch
Wind-blown, unremembered—
While eye and foot traced stream to anabranch.

A kind of pallid ash
The weight of me
Lagan on the floor—
Now fluttered all away,
Divining of the core.
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#1 · 1
· · >>Heavy_Mole
The more abstract poetry becomes, the more it goes over my head. I'm not good at figuring out deeply obscured meanings, so I'm probably not the audience for this. It sounds good, but I don't know what it means. My best guess is that someone is trying out gymnastics equipment and finding out they're not as good as they wish they were (or used to be), then making a metaphorical comparison to the wood and trees the equipment was made from. But then I don't see what that comparison means. No formal structure to analyze, so nothing to say there. It sounds nice, but I can't figure it out.
#2 ·
·
Congrats to Groaning, as always (!).

>>Pascoite
Ah, some unanticipated ambiguity. The 'beam' is the rafter with lights around it. It's about the physical experience of doing yoga on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. I was going for a simple subject with this, but looks like I need a more practice.

Thanks for your critique.