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Literature Text
you are an art gallery.
let me sculpture your anatomy
and draw your attention
to yourself,
paintings of pain mask your face
[i didn't think i was hostile]
i frame your expression in my mind
in such a way, i cannot
cry with fearful eyes
without smudging your ink
or changing your colours.
beauty is only skin deep to you
and mine was wrapped over
your masterpiece, pierced.
you spoke of masquerades
in the dark,
the blazing moon alight
with passion
burning brighter than your spark.
the blood, it stains
[more than acrylics]
but remember that
lifeends begins in stains
you know that i can't take the strain
of you leaving me again.
let me sculpture your anatomy
and draw your attention
to yourself,
paintings of pain mask your face
[i didn't think i was hostile]
i frame your expression in my mind
in such a way, i cannot
cry with fearful eyes
without smudging your ink
or changing your colours.
beauty is only skin deep to you
and mine was wrapped over
your masterpiece, pierced.
you spoke of masquerades
in the dark,
the blazing moon alight
with passion
burning brighter than your spark.
the blood, it stains
[more than acrylics]
but remember that
life
you know that i can't take the strain
of you leaving me again.
Literature
The Art of Detachment
dehumanized:
I am a stirring in the breath
of an unswept sky, an itch
in the throat, a tear in
the lining of the sleeve you
keep fingering- like reminiscence
will repair loose strands
(I woke up this morning
in a new carcass, trapped,
by fleshed out flaws and
dismal dreams and the
hush hush thrum ,steady,
[pulsations are riddled with
intent] of my veins)
I am the dents in the floorboard
where boxes of I-can-never-forgets
lay, I am the aching cold of walls
untouched, I am the callouses
of your fingers forgetting
how to work.
(my voice will melt the icecaps,
it will draw all salt from
the ocean and carve a careful
coffin
Literature
Art and Disaster
He said I was art,
But I don’t know
If he can tell
The difference
Between art
And Disaster.
Literature
Muse
I work in the shadows, casting visions and summoning imagination
with pretty words, for the souls that tremble in frustration.
I appear when I am needed, and must leave although I am wanted.
I am the bolt of lightning that cracks at the feet of those who run out of steam,
spurring them on with a voice as loud as distant thunder.
I sit with the wielders of the pen, brush, lens and chisel,
always behind them, teaching them how to spark,
fanning their thoughts into a blaze.
They shall never see me.
For I cast their Shadows upon them so they may see their size
as I expel the shadows of fear, to guide their way.
I am the Light.
I am the Muse.
A
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Comments38
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Overall
Vision
Originality
Technique
Impact
The biggest value of this poem lies within its imagery - it is very original and very coherent throughout the whole poem, which is the feature that many poems lack and a feature I value a lot, it shows that the reader has actually put thought into their writing <3 Metaphors you used are both very suggestive and they paint the relationship between the subject and the receiver very well - suggesting that subject pays more attention to the receiver than to themselves and that they are somehow suppressing themselves around the receiver, whilst the receiver seems to be focused more on their own emotional distress. It seems that the receiver is idolised and the nature of this relation really fits the imagery used - in a way it is asymmetrical the same way as relationship between the piece of art and its worshipper would be, with all the attention drawn to only one side of the relation.
It is a free verse poem and it flows well, being pleasant to read. I think that use of the saying 'beauty is only skin deep' along with the rest of the stanza was incredibly clever - combining the phrase about beauty being only shallow worth with the image of the subject wrapping themselves around the receiver seems to underline how they don't think much abut their own worth (being the shallow layer covering the receiver) compared to the receiver (what's inside).
Overall I think it is a well-thought poem and it shows.