Thoughts?

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    • #1500
      HB Elam
      Member

      So this is what I had originally written for my poem on the 10th. After the first three lines, I started writing and going off on this certain path and I ended up not really liking the words that I was writing, even though I was still going towards some certain concept. Then something hit me and I started a new section. I was going to keep that middle part but I decided to cut it out completely. Was this the right thing to do? Should I tried to have salvage some bits of the middle? I’m just uncertain and wanted some feedback. This is the first time I’ve ever really cut something so completely. Usually when I write I edit as I go but if it makes it to the page I usually end up leaving it all there. This is one of the first times I’ve ever cut so much of something but it felt like an unnecessary limb after I had written the third part.

      water isn’t blue
      it isn’t
      but think about it

      think about a glass of water
      fresh out of the faucet
      the current flowing, filling up
      the cup, and to your lips
      and you taste that crisp pacificity
      but even if you know it is clear,
      when asked to represent it artistically
      you’d reach for a blue crayon,
      wouldn’t you?
      you’d draw the cup, I would too
      but then what?
      an empty glass just doesn’t feel right
      when you know it’s full of dihydrogen monoxide
      and how else to demonstrate its fullness?
      it’s right, but oh so wrong, and we’ve done it
      all along, as kids painting rivers, oceans, backyard pools,
      puddles, spray from water hoses and even rain,
      reaching for that blue hue that somehow translates
      transparency into opacity, and we
      mark it down that way,
      we’ve deluded our cultural conciousness into believing
      something that has no color
      must be expressed in this certain way
      so much so that blue and water are synonymous

      looking at the pool my feet were in
      I realized that the blue walls were made
      by someone, somewhere, to try to more accurate
      get at
      the Platonic concept of a pool,
      when viewed, just the right way; to get me
      experientially equating
      that crisp blue waves were inherit
      poolness
      when really
      it was me, in the crisp clarity of the water
      that was the pool
      and the rest were just confines

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