His Wooden Girl

Easily the top poem of the week, to my read. This one comes out as a very deep and a sad, heart ripping write, from the view point of one who is betrayed. The poet so calmly reflects on the jilted characters disbelief on the sudden chain of events, that it draws a most heartfelt sympathy from the reader. The poets choice of words and simile's using the term "hawk faced" to depict the betrayer not only as a hawk-eyed with mesmerizing golden-eyes (eyes more golden than summer wheat and dandelions) but also a matching hawkish character, shrude (cunning), when devouring its prey, at its most vulnerable time, is skillfully displayed and draws in the readers imagination and sympathy. The inner feeling (it's no hardship to grasp the heat that flows between them, reverberating in perfect harmony) seems so well portrayed here, with more than subliminal candid frankness, using a creative imagination:

I do not know if while resting in the canopy of his arms,
gazing up at his winded cheeks like
tall drinks of cool whisky on a swollen day,
she falls drunk as a fool in spells of her own acoustic chords.

^The metaphor using a spell binding captivating acoustic stringing to depict the drunken stupor of a gal in love, depicted here is unique, but I would have imagined "her" to be "him" in the last line above.

The last stanza is a metaphorical masterpiece, and is what motivated me to select this one as my week's winner. Since, I cannot outshine A Lonely Soul's interpretation here (Goddamn him! He plagiarized my thoughts), I am forced to re-quote part of his comment (these were supposed to be mine):

"He the hawk" = a preying bird, that you perceive in this "incoherent blindness" (=confused disbelief) and she
"his wooden girl" (= peasant, simple girl, a metaphor from the matryoshka doll, a Russian wooden nesting doll) who is mesmerized by his "strumming" (= guitar playing or sweetness), who dies in his absence, but feels like she is amongst the stars (pieces of stardust), when he is around, sweet talking to her.

It is indeed a Jane classic, loaded with her "strummings" and reverberating sad acoustics in a master play of emotions. But, I have hope for the character in this beautiful verse, mauled by a hawk and left for dead, to find a true love some day, for as long as she has some love left in the heart, she should be one day, be able to find a better string player to heal and play her cardiac chords, with truer and more skillful "strummings." (10 points)

(Judging comment 1-22-12)

I'm speechless at this amazingly written piece of poetry. Beguiling and flows like the river. Exquisite, i'm besieged. Stay blessed.

I'm speechless at this amazingly written piece of poetry. Beguiling and flows like the river. Exquisite, i'm besieged. Stay blessed.

What a way with words I like it a lote.

Such a flawless work great work keep it up