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Author: TheSnoitart ASL Info:    19/ M/ USA Elite Ratio:    3.63 - 53 /64 /52 Words: 100

Class/Type: Poetry /Me Total Views: 1702 Average Vote:    No vote yet. Bytes: 579

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The wasteland in my mind holds its own sort of dark beauty; a broken world (or many?) the empty pieces fractured and alone all man's work reduced to a puddle of molten slag. The barren depths of my soul devoid of your cleansing light because I won't let it in (if you would ever even offer) afraid of what I might see in those abysmal depths-- what I might have let myself become An abhorrent monster, wearing the face of a lost poet

Submitted on 2013-04-27 00:53:56     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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I found this somewhat chilling, perhaps because in reading it I see the own monsters within myself. The poem is provocative and ironic, on one hand, refusing to let in the light because being afraid of what it reveals, and on the other hand, already knowing what it is you have become. To whom then is the poem addressed? Who is the 'you' ? A lover? The world? the speaker's own conscience? The resentment implied in 'if you would ever even offer' reinforces the solitude and aloneness conjured by the fractured images in the first stanza. My only suggestions would be some few words do seem a bit cliché, i e "barren depths of my soul" "abysmal depths" I feel could be more finely crafted as it detracts from the overall tone and feel.

| Posted on 2013-05-03 00:00:00 | by ziska | [ Reply to This ]

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