Waiting
By Ed Crane
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The world outside your room, merely a framed image
of ‘once was,’ only changing with movements in the
sky over unmoved buildings. You sit on padded plastic
facing the blank screen of a television which once shone
from breakfast to supper. Days pass slowly, welding into
one, while time flies taking, a morsel of memory in cruel
talons every day and your heart beats strong defying the
minutes; weeks and months of their long awaited task.
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Comments
Hi Ed. I love that tree
Hi Ed.
I love the picture of that tree crossing into winter - very appropriate. The poem has that same feeling of waiting to cross over - life is a moving picture on the other side of a window. You have captured two contrasting atmospheres, the one outside and the one inside. The slow passing of time while
'time flies taking, a morsel of memory in cruel
talons every day and your heart beats strong defying the
minutes; weeks and months of their long awaited task.' You have it there. Made me feel really sad. It's cruel.
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Nothing left but the waiting.
Nothing left but the waiting. That the heart beats on when the rest is shutting down is cruel indeed. You paint the picture clearly in just these few lines. Excellent.
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Nothing left but the waiting.
Nothing left but the waiting. That the heart beats on when the rest is shutting down is cruel indeed. You paint the picture clearly in just these few lines. Excellent.
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Excellent piece Ed, 'once was
Excellent piece Ed, 'once was' sums up all bar the will to survive. Enjoy the fruits of your labours!
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Is it life, is it death, is
Is it life, is it death, is it still-life? I like this kind of poems where real things are endowed with special meaning. It is emotion through banality, it is like blooming an otherwise non-magical picture. It is also a hint of mystery...
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hi, i first read this
hi, i first read this differently to the interpretations i have seen above - in such case, v sad but has prompted v lovely expression - but i first read it as a v hopeful, defiant piece. either way, absolutely lovely lines in 'time flies taking, a morsel of memory' and 'only changing with movements in the/sky over unmoved buildings'. lovely, thoughtful work
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