Fear! - Nervous as ever, verily the motion seeking still, prevades
alluring thought, as if from swift imaginations either sway of head,
to this or that. Darkness severs the capabilty of sight your hearing
heard, and only then do voices of a kind rekindle new, -
That from a view, illusions dreadful future saw. How the dull
din of close proximities our judgements choose, for, things we cannot
answer to. It brings this kind of adage that concludes a lesser fate,
for that we hoped was simply there, and shown upon deaths face.
How then can one feel so alone, but let allow, that two exist, an evil
force in tune with this, exactness such as near. A bristle with a
dreaded whim, a moment saw for certain brought, those brief requisites
bats detest, detect this vast abyss.
Selected is the greater sound depicting views that intriques move,
rekindles death that overheard me missing by mile.
Now at this point, retrieval had, indeed the need for day denied
fear of night had soften......., died in fact for daylight lied.
While getting used to dark too soon, the optimum of light would tell
enough of these few greyer cells, illusion cannot fix. As wisely said
to poke this place that even now seems more like space, I feel
sufficient source be found from whole, the syphon sped.
How physics can regenerate like muscles do, so propagate, reversal
led, then hibernates.., extinction did.
Author notes
By Titus
A contest entry
- Like Strands of Fist and Bone by Saint Gut-Free.
600 points, ended October 7, 2007, 29 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Well done Titus
'This kind of adage' and 'with this exactness such is near' tops! Your word play of the syphon sped. Slowing and speeding up of the words is fun also. Well done.
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Thankyou for adding your username for me.
Now, for the actual poem. Your opening exclamation was perfect for Poe-esque verse, and the pulsing rhythm that you set throughout, along with your vocabulary which the reader can tell has been carefully chosen, both increase this effect. This is verse that I can definitely get lost in.
The only real criticisms I can find are related to the contest option moreso than the poem itself- for instace, your use of personal questions here and there such as "Had daylight lied?"
I never found Poe's work to be particularly introspective, moreso works of dark fantasy.
That being said, this by no means takes from your poem's merit as a poem.
Amazing work, one of my best entries yet. Best of luck
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