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Topic: Spaces Between (Read 452 times) |
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Jeepgun
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Spaces Between I drove one night to be alone and found myself in the parking lot of the abandoned drive-in. Leaning against the fender, chainsmoking, gazing at where the screen used to be, the black box of memory springing open as she drove up and stepped out. "Hello," she said from the end of the world or the wrong end of a telescope, lighting a cigarette and tossing her hair against the star-pierced sky Too thin, too nervous, too afraid as her gray eyes bored into my soul... She had aged in some unidentifiable way and looked weary, guarded, and lost; so utterly lost in a way that makes everyone feel helpless. "It's been a long time," I said quietly, my brow wrinkling and my eyes stinging with tears. "Yeah... Well, I've been gone. School, work..." and her voice faded along with the fleeting half-smile that crossed her face like a shadow, as she nervously tugged her sleeve over the scars on her wrist. We both knew she was lying, and a silence descended between us; seas of unspoken words spilling like wine on snow Planets and stars ceased whirling overhead and darkness clouded the edges of my vision. "Well... I need to go," she said, attempting to appear nonchalant, and before I could speak, she had turned on her heel and as she walked, her strides picked up speed, as if she were a rocket escaping gravity, and in my mind's eye, I saw ephemeral silver filaments between us growing thinner, lighter, and fading to nothing.... I opened the car door and slumped to the seat, watching her taillights with blurring vision, and with my first sob, the universe lurched into relentless motion once again. I sat for hours and wept in the dark until desperately clawing at sleep and hugging it close, I sank into delicious depths of chlorine-blue amnesia. The next morning, I drove home with the winter sun in my bloodshot eyes, older, so much older than I was, just yesterday. -Frank H. Weeden
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vig
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #1 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 10:26am » |
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damn cool Frank
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never, Never, NEVER quit. -Winston Churchill
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Melissa
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Quite moving. Is it drawn on past experience? I can feel the agony hurting inside, that sinking, heavy lump of the heart... Been there myself. sad really...
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Jeepgun
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Yes, the poem is autobiographical.
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john_d
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That was amazing, simply amazing. I kid not when I say you should try getting published. Incredible Frank.
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PerryGR
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #5 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 11:06am » |
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Very intense, powerful images (hope this comes across the way i mean it). Great work Frank, thanks for sharing. PFDAN to all, Perry.
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Haven't posted in a while so let me re-introduce myself... Male, 25y.o., CCH sufferer for a little bit more than 5 years. Verapamil and Lithium seem to work well at the moment.
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Jeepgun
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Thank you, everyone... so very much...
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Ronny
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #7 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 12:25pm » |
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Wonderful, Brilliant,
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nani
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #8 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 12:29pm » |
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Frank your writing touches me.
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Others may come and go, but MY power is MINE.
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Charlie
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #9 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 12:44pm » |
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You make me wish I hadn't spent so much time loving myself. Nice Frank. Charlie
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There is nothing more satisfying than being shot at without result---Winston Churchill
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Jeepgun
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Thank you again.
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Ree
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #11 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 2:18pm » |
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I loved your poem and story... It reminded me of this... Never look back Frank... Let me tell you a story... My brother served in Viet Nam. While in Viet Nam his then fiance Paola... was married off by her family in Italy. Yes though this practice is against the law in the US they took her to Italy and told her if she didnt marry the guy they wouldnt allow her to return to the US... She married him and sent my brother a dear John letter. Heartbroken and spent after spending a long haul in Viet Nam to come home and find all of the things he had given to her neatly packaged up. Guess who was home when brother "Bud" arrived home... Me and I got to relay the news... etc... Well to make a lonnnnnnnng story short... He never got over Paola... married someone else and had 20 years of what ifs... never happy with his wife they divorced.... All he talked about was Paola... So little sis... ME... decides to look her up... Well I did and they got together... She was never happy either but lived in a much higher income bracket than my middle income brother AND she would never tell her parents that she was seeing my brother again. Even as an adult they had that kind of a hold on her. Some people choose to be miserable. They dated for a while and parted... again... I should have left it alone. The fantasy was better than what became of their love story. It was a big disappointment to him... love ree
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« Last Edit: Nov 16th, 2004, 2:19pm by Ree » |
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Jeepgun
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Thanks, Ree. I'm sorry it didn't work out for your brother and Paola... The woman in this poem was a girl that I had dated in high school. Just before the start of my senior year in high school, we broke up. I left mid-term for the Army and it was two years before I took leave to come home again. Meeting her again was... devastating. I had heard from my mom that she had attempted suicide and then had spent some time in a home for the mentally ill. Our romance in high school was sweet, the way a first true romance is. She was amazingly kind, openhearted, and just really... innocent. (as corny as that probably sounds) The change in her, in the two years since we last saw each other, was horrifying. I will always wonder what became of her. There really is no looking back. I've been married for thirteen years now, to the love of my life, and finally succeeded in creating the kind of family I always longed for, when I was a kid. Even if she and I were both single and met up again, it's like that old saying: "You can never step in the same stream twice." Bittersweet.... like so many other facets of life... Thanks again, my friend. -Frank
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Filbert
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #13 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 2:54pm » |
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Very good Frank and very honest! The way you have with words is a talent. Reminiscent of Raymond Carver my favourite author. Have you read any of his stuff? Filbert.
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Jeepgun
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Thank you, Filbert. I'm not familiar with Raymond Carver's work. Do you have a book recommendation? Thanks again. -Frank
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Ruth
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #15 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 3:18pm » |
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I can only say Bravo and add: We Love We Live We Learn Ruth
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Jeepgun
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Thanks, Ruth. That's really the truth, isn't it? In the end, what's left is whatever love, compassion, and wisdom we can glean. Learning to be human really hurts sometimes... -Frank
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alleyoop
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #17 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 5:16pm » |
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on Nov 16th, 2004, 10:54am, john_d wrote:That was amazing, simply amazing. I kid not when I say you should try getting published. |
| I hate to admit it but at times I've wondered if you were plagiarizing Frank. John's right. .................alley
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I know that the Good Lord won't put any more on you than you can stand, but sometimes I wish He weren't quite so PROUD of ME!
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becky8
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You really wrote that???? WOW !!! have you ever been published??? Can you write me something??? Amazing
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john_d
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I read that for like the 20th time today and I was literally moved to tears, before I just got chills. Thank you so much for sharing that.
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LeLimey
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #20 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 7:56pm » |
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Frank you have a talent for drawing pictures with words. Its a sin not to share that. And I'm as sure as egges is eggs that other friends than those of us here have told you that too!! When are you going to listen to us matey?!!
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The arsehole I'm divorcing needs to get a life and stop stalking mine
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K-9
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #21 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 8:40pm » |
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I really enjoyed that frank, and for me, it has to be good!!! Nice job!!! I'd read more like that if you got 'em.
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kissmyglass
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Re: Spaces Between
« Reply #22 on: Nov 16th, 2004, 8:46pm » |
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Don;t quit your day job....
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"It does so fucking look like her" - Picasso [img][/img]
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Jeepgun
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Thank you again, everyone. Good advice, Kissmyglass. LOL! I've pursued publishing before, but the almighty dollar is king, and with poetry being such a narrow spectrum market, publishers want the writer to pick up some of the cost of printing, and then to go around and actually hock the book to different places. Most publishers, if they don't feel guaranteed at least 5,000 copies of something being sold, won't even bother with an author. Pretty crappy, huh? Anyway, thank you all for your kind comments and encouragement. -Frank
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cschick
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FRANK, DAG NAB IT! I just put my make-up on and have now cried it all off! That was amazing. Wow, I don't have any more words. Karen
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