I
sit
and
blankly
Stare at the
Dirty walls
Of my
Cell
I
Find
them
Familiar
Comfortable
In keeping
With my
mood
My
Tears
Are due
To damn
Sunbeams
Ruining my
Focus on
Fate
I
do
not
need
damn
sunbeams
for anything
anymore
ever
Author notes
A shape poem. Just felt right.
In a list
A contest entry
- Cynical Writers Welcome! by bw43.
549 points, ended March 13, 2007, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
i felt like sitting fetal and rocking back & forth. tons of feeling but a numb-ness, all the same. it reads cold and gray. fantastic. this has haunting rhythm. love love this. excellent.
-
Out Of The Box
This one should have no problem advancing to the head of the line, truly. Three bunnies as escorts.
-
I like the background. It was cool and perfect for your poem.
I suppose the shape does go with it too. I think. The way I see it, the speaker is probably squinting because of the sun, and so it makes for a stringy type poem... very narrow, because the speaker's view is narrowed with the sun in his/her eyes.
thank you for your entry and good luck in the contest .
-
-
Well, actually the shapes are tears and the poem is cynical irony. The prisoner wants nothing more than to be outside in the sun, yet cannot. So, they hate the sun for teasing them with promises of what they may never have. Thanks for your comment/
-
-
Damn Allan, it’s brilliant! Possibly the best you have ever done. A perfect shape poem in the shape of tears. Perfect word choice and you made the words fit the shape and still kept the image. The image is one we understand; it’s deep, profound and very personal. I can’t say enough about this poem except now you are going to have to top it.
Love,
Amera
Adding your comment:
1 - 5 of 5
