Paperdoll

This poem deserves a deep introspective look.You really have learned the process of introspection through observance of detail;it's so evident in your ability to project it in to your understanding of language, and environment.Major leaps, and bounds, as you continuse to perfect your craft; you will be a rocket ignighted. I hope your not afraid of heights.B

There is a saying used when trying to reconstruct ones own life: The past is like a pile of dirty dishes one must begin cleaning at the top and continue until the truth is reveled. You have presented a very introspective well put together puzzle indeed. ken

Real plays of life in torn smidgens of poems are the fabric of your art and in such a place as you now find yourself you excel in the intensity of thoughts and deeds, fantasies and truths that seize your minds eye and fix it on the essence of a problem, so admirably that we find ourselves bound into the meanings you express as if they were our own. Not only do you express things well, you also give the content a dance of sound that is onomatopoeic and exciting to read, the movement, the humour and the pathos in balanced harmony. And that lovely swinging of the feet, the contemplating, contemplating rhythm of contemplation. Oh sometimes I wonder where I get my comments from, as if I were another person here expressing myself and yet it is I. In contact with me personally I am not half so verbally correct, or in any way good at conversing on subjects, maybe an in-built(N) shyness that is no longer there and yet it hinders me in saying, or remembering, the right fitting remark. Writing is, has been a sort of escapism for me, where I could write and no one was there to criticise and send me down in the dumps about my own expressions, that has been my motivation, and in erudite company I have kept quiet, mulling my own thoughts on the subjects discussed. It would be interesting to find out because all of you and dear Longo, have helped make me feel freer in what I say, and the quotes have suddenly come of themselves; now I am being very selfish and talking of myself when it is commenting on your poetry that is the thing to do here, and yet it puzzles me, how are you among a big group of dominating people? You know that I love your poetry Jayne and long may you write it as it enriches our world. Love to you from Ann of Norway.

Another really great read with fantastic language Jayne. I relate to this piece alot! i have a poem called china doll that i was going to post for my next piece. it fades into comparison next to this wonderful peice but ill post anyway. well done for spot light! love vix

May your news be good, my dear Jayne-Chloe. We're all here for you. Love. ~Mum p.s. You no longer need any outside irritation to finish the pearl...

I've got my candles lit and my fingers crossed for you. Love, Cat

I could write a thesis on the depth of this poem Jayne, it is such a visual poem, rich in its tones of white and bleached and at times teastained but pure to the core. Thinking of you Seabhac

I feel I cannot comment on any interpretation, but as for the poem, marvelous. Lyz. Xx

Jayne, It is impossible for you to write crap! This, like all your poems, is a true gem. Love, Elizabeth

Congrats on spotlight! I love the paperdoll simile. Makes one think of something that you do while thinking of how to express yourself. [Cutting paperdolls] A way to get the sense of what you are thinking on paper. I also get the idea that you are refering to a fragile part of yourself. Best of wishes for the best of news. You're always in my thoughts, My one eyed beauty. LOL [The other one is beautiful too] LMAOROTF. [Well, it seemed pretty funny to me!] ~ Higgest of all bugs and so much love you will have to leave some home because you can't carry it all, ~ Gee

I'm on a mission to catch up (yet again) and can't believe I missed out on this one. It's one of your best, dear one. (hugs) Now I'll have to catch up on all the other poems you have posted in the last couple of weeks. Do you have muse's dust instead of sugar in your coffee? Yours, ~Nina

I'm wondering... what DO you drink then????? Hope it has nothing to do with Cane Toads. I know you stated *last* edit...but.... My dear, wouldn't *in an entrusting look* work better than "and" *against the wall* instead of "to"? albeit changed to *in* a (adjective such as dilapidated or crumbling) cardboard parquetry? I'm returning to my senses here, Jayne. Love, Mum

ok, now....her eyes given away, the spark of fear that followed it. (is this *in* necessary?) Sorry, like I said... I'm returning to the pain in the arse I am. As Tamara. Miles of Smiles, Mum p.s. never drink and comment again! that's an order, young lady!

This does read even better. * (extra star for editing;) (hugs) Yours, ~Nina

Hi Jayne, wow, again this deserves revisiting, there are some fantastic concepts & images in here that open doors ever so slightly, one wonders what is within, lots of hidden stuff here, which is delicious in poetry, could mean a ton of things & it isn't my job to interpret, only here I think to praise. I am enjoying your work so much, it is ever changing it seems, though in this of course there is shadow (that makes me wish more peace for you, but that is aside from the writing)... great write Jayne, I missed it in Spotlight, but I am so behind here, well done anyway. Cheers xx Anni~ "To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man." ~William Shakespeare, Hamlet.

To my ear you have too many short lines, it interrupts the conversational flow of your thoughts without adding anything in the way of drama, but that's more a thought for future reference this is was it is and shouldn't be mucked around with. your poetry is brave spontaneous and honest.. I like that.

This one I like a great deal but still think it could do with a few tweaks. See below my suggestions. Love BB I waited as she crossed barriers (avoids the wall repetition in next verse) of separation, watching both sides pull and tear at skirts of paper flowers, each craving a piece... (bit stronger than wanting) just a smidgen. Backslid, pressed against a wall of cardboard parquetry, ever watchful for usurpers with an entrusting look that passed behind her eyes, given away by the dilated fear that swallowed it..... paranoia? or just old fashioned visceral gut feeling? ~~~~~ Shes swinging her legs from side to side, and her hands fumble in tearing off, infinitesimal fibers of being. Her gut advocate is gone, with the last skein of (perhaps ribbon, flap or scrap?) paper fluttering on the fence Feet still watched and sliding with purpose, but now somehow detached.

I waited as she ran through walls; watching both sides tear her skirts. Each wanted just a smidgen as she backed against a cardboard wall. Ever watching for usurpers 'till trust gave way to fear's spark. She swings her legs and her hands fumble, tear at fibers one by one. Her feelings fall to paranoia as the last shred flutters on the fence.