Comments by The Dybbuk

  • "vibrancy.... your words beam and shimmer... and every time I try to touch them... to feel them... to make them not mine, but a part of me... they giggle and flee... always already far more free than I could ever hope to be... you, my dear poetess, are a special soul, and your words are windows to your soul. *bows*"
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "Infinite treasure" by Corinthian
  • "hehe, it always amazes me and is a testament to the wisdom you possess at such a youthful age when you concoct such denigrating accusations with grace, finesse and a lexicon that leaves native speakers of your acquired language fumbling for the dictionary. Thrush mouths... never wish upon a false star, no matter what shape it partakes in. :) hope you are well, shweets, and thanks for the chuckle."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "fraudulent asterisms" by Corinthian
  • "porcelain..... you shine the dark into beauty... like polishin' up an absence, a loss, a profound respect for what is not, what may never be, and what once was simultaneously... in reverence of that which takes all that we could ever long to keep and remembrance of what couldn't be kept. A shrine. nothing less. *bows* thank you for your cryptic depth and novelty in imagery. ms goddess of the steppe"
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "cobalt" by Corinthian
  • "I like that image.... when I think about it, on the one hand... it's the time that hand has spent cradling the prize that allows it to never be lost, not even in death..... and on the other hand, I can think of it as a coldness... like taking a prize from the victory... from the spoils of war, having a bit of a femme fatale flavor as an optional layering..... an ambivalence of sorts to the death of one so loved, even... but of course, that final strophe brings about the king... long live the king.... and honors the power, the shear force of commitment... of adoration, devotion.... on his own time, an autonomy and authenticity that champions in a traditional masculine image... of self determined.... and free, maybe. *bows* always appreciate your words, ms goddess of the steppe "
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "I cross languages " by Corinthian
  • "behold the martyr... for is there love without death? The driven nail... proof of love through death.... for only it can survive the sacrifice it brings... if one loves life, one would have to die for it, perhaps... this is the aged moral of so many tales mythologically inclined. This gentle child you write of, such a blessed one is he to be graced with words of divine heart... ms goddess of the steppe, all the best to you and yours, always. *bows reverently*"
    Posted by The Dybbuk on " what is to give light must endure burning" by Corinthian
  • "such imagery... tone of forlorn... yet caressing.... a wish for the one who knows not wishes..... and a prayer for those who cannot pray, maybe... such poetry is wonderment... such a soul to bare."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on " The stones will cry out " by Corinthian
  • "ah such wonderment beams from these words... a seeing that is other than and bolder than the visions it produces... a creation of word... pushing language to find that which it has lost in the redundancy of everyday, every person, any body, use... this speaks authentically from a place that the massed anonymity can only admire from a distance... love the color and vivid imagery.... this creates in word. thank you, ms goddess of the steppe, for sharing your art."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "& love limps from your eyes . " by Corinthian
  • "such are the quiet nights... spent sipping on bubbles and engaged in fairy tales... of moments too far gone to be more than dreams, too deeply imbedded inside to be anything less than dreams. And are not such moments those that always beg for that happy ending, that holy hand in the dark, a warmth of presence, not to be known again. Thank you, ms goddess of the steppe. May your holiday shed its sorrow like soiled wrapping paper off a never opened present. *bows*"
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "I Long ." by Corinthian
  • "the tenderness of the eyelashes, to me, and the air, the movement of wind through the lungs, through the soul, these images seem to soften the erotic longing into a silence that is broken by the bell, the call, and this calls, this write calls out to hush the world in search of this love. Much enjoyed, ms goddess of the steppe. "
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "Procuress Morriña" by Corinthian
  • "what a dream sequence this is... the imagery surreal, flowing along streamily (yes, not a word, but...) the unconscious blue and white.... such use of color and symbols... minimalistic imagery... as if the reader is floating in and out of consciousness while reading... always a pleasure, ms goddess of the steppe; thank you for being you and sharing your heart/mind/spirit with us."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "Der Traum" by Corinthian
  • "the rich color in these words, mesmerizing... the repetition, like a manic groping in the dark, an Ophelia-esque tone that speaks through colors and symbols... fangs and white books in the dark... stabbed, bleeding saints... where the dreams of martyrs lay. always a pleasure to be whisked away by such worded visions, ms goddess of the steppe, always. thank you."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "you are the bell of god " by Corinthian
  • "awwww :) you leave comments that force my smile. such gorgeous imagery expressing a devotion and adoration that transcends this life... you make me wish I knew French. "Like an antique adolescent with wings of gauze," sigh.... such originality in vision, and uniqueness of voice... It is always a treat to read your work... your writing gives pause, requires thought and avoids the cliche... I saw this as a tribute.... the expression of love for a lil one, perhaps.... beloved drowsy angel.... a lullaby. Thank you, ms goddess of the steppe."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "shimmer." by Corinthian
  • "may this banished charm never end up in a forlorn attic.... in broken fits, in starts and tattered thoughts imaged with cool hues and blinding shots of unseen beauty and smooth threats of demise, decay.... and rebirthing that which makes the intellect sigh... thank you, ms goddess of the steppe."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "gloss." by Corinthian
  • "interesting trains of thought in the commentary, ms goddess of the steppe. I enjoyed the inspired write, the two work well together, I think..... and who holds the hammer that bound the feet of the lyrical one? the muse impaled... the siren strapped to the mast... the worded one who gathers sighs at her feet.... much enjoyed, thanks."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "blue nails." by Corinthian
  • "if angels could speak.... I doubt I'd hear them.... interesting light placement, there, ms. perhaps all lanterns shine best when throbbing below... thanks, a pensive work and pleasant image."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "si linguis angelorum loquar" by Corinthian
  • "love the imagery, the blue and burgundy... the longing and helplessness this emits... very vibrant and visionary. Thank you... a very lucky Lord, indeed, ms goddess of the steppe."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "Lord Jurgen " by Corinthian
  • "this reads like a bad break-up... a shove off a cliff, maybe, for the dancer in lotus.... the lackadaisical whim turned whimper... thrust out in the cold to beg for the warmth once taken for granted. *bows to the goddess of the steppe* thank you. "
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "ballet & lotus weeds" by Corinthian
  • "always a pleasure to traverse the imagery that never limps from your eyes... a gorgeous whirlwind of tender visions, may those dreams never leave salty trails down the cheeks of your tomorrows... thank you, ms goddess of the steppe."
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "& love limps from your eyes . " by Corinthian
  • "The title really attracted my attention... at first I thought it read "at the foot OF my thoughts they gather" but upon closer examination... it is not so simple. Thoughts that gather at the foot.... of..... and here is the absence that holds sway over the following lines... what lies at the foot. supinely reclined. Heavenly resting. Such memories, to die for, and yet so serenely murderous. Under my feet, time is stalled... and thoughts gather that fill me empty, walking me to the edge of what I once was, and tossing me over into the abyss that remains a future forever gathering.... at the foot... at least, this is what I found here, in this place with no goodbyes, and the only farewell to be found sinks into yesterday's ground. A wonderfully sad adieu, ms goddess of the steppe, thank you for your subtlety and sublimity. "
    Posted by The Dybbuk on "at the foot my thoughts they gather." by Corinthian
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