Self Plagiarism

Self Plagiarism

Suwanee

Chatroom Moderator
Staff member
Sometimes my mood is such that I’d like to draw from the well of prose and poetry alike to express my thoughts. At other times (like tonight), I realize I’ve previously written a prescription for a poultice applied to a preoccupied mind:

A warm spring night after a heavy rain wakes the senses...the damp forest, the fertile mud, and something else...something made of the forest itself...a camp cabin built in 1925. I love hate love hate love the scent of the pine needle carpet and the musty scent of sixty winters and sixty summers, and an untold number of raindrops and campers. I don't know the relative sums of joy and sadness it has witnessed, but I know it knows what I know. It has to.
——————————————————————
Google Earth says you're still there

Were you repaired
Are your timbers the same ones that hold
The message I carved in your wood
After after he did what he did
And I never told
. . . _ _ _ . . .


Will is there
What do you remember
Matter is neither created nor destroyed
What from 1985 is within your timber?

My psyche is there too
I remember
You never left me
I never left you

We're fellow travelers from the zoo
In two places at once
My close companion
It's what we do

Two days, two weeks and thirty five years since we met
The night during the heavy rain
Remember the wet

What does the rain say

To the libertine
And
The one thirteen

You remember me
Care to meet again

Dry our eyes
Doppelgänger
Because

I’m there tonight
When I smell the damp
The musty earthy woods
I know you're near

Our visits fill me with
excitement
expectation
and
fear

Will

Fellow Traveler
 
Dry our eyes
Doppelgänger
Because

I’m there tonight
When I smell the damp
The musty earthy woods
I know you're near

Our visits fill me
with
joy
expectation
and
fear
It's especially the mentioning of the doppelganger that filled me with mixed emotion. Beauty because of the wonderful imagery, sadness because of what is implied. It's the complete poem that is absolutely gorgeous, and yet...
That's what good poetry does to me. Makes me think.
 
It's especially the mentioning of the doppelganger that filled me with mixed emotion. Beauty because of the wonderful imagery, sadness because of what is implied. It's the complete poem that is absolutely gorgeous, and yet...
That's what good poetry does to me. Makes me think.
I suppose I meant that he/it has cried during my absence, while my own tears are shed when I unwillingly return to its grasp—even if it isn’t a physical grasp at this point,

will
 
I suppose I meant that he/it has cried during my absence, while my own tears are shed when I unwillingly return to its grasp—even id it isn’t a physical grasp at this point,

will
I sometimes see this situation as a DNA helix. Separate entities climbing that ladder, but they are still tied together somehow. And at intersections they meet.
As if it's written in body and mind, very difficult to overcome.
 
Which is a palindrome. A representation of how our lives are going forward and backward all the time. SOS in Morse Code. So difficult to read for those whose eyes are blurred and hear for those whose ears are cluttered.
 
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