Beyond Black Drapes -------------------------------------------
My gift is my bane,
for this poetic soul
runs off of dreams
like an old Chevrolet burns gasoline.
Sometimes it sputters and backfires;
sometimes I'm left stranded,
but when this bright world proves fruitless,
I visit the world behind the black drapes
where I direct every film.
sounds kinda like the mini-breakdown i had this week where i just went into myself... the world was too bright and scary, so i just beat a hasty retreat. i'm still recovering! very well said, amy, very well said.
I'm glad you directed me to this piece, because I really like it. I like the analogy to an old chevy. I've felt like an old Chevy running on fumes, so that part really spoke to me. "proves fruitless" I think you could rephrase that, although I don't have any specific suggestions. I like the last line, I would change "every film" to *every scene* I forgot to mention that I really like the sounds of this piece. Very nice work! p.s. speaking of gifts being banes, I've wanted to quit (if you haven't noticed).
I love the last line. It doesn't really rhyme, but then again, it doesn't have to, or shouldn't for that matter. I love the simile of the Chevrolet and gasoline. It just makes the whole poem so classic. Nice work.
when your world is too boring and unhappy you flee into your own world. I do that myself quite often. kids do that always but as asults we forget how to do that mostly. but sometimes we just need a break from reality. anyway I like the Chevrolet comparison in there, very vivid, and the ending is powerful. a really good poem, Amy. well done.