lungs draw memory
deep-
ready to exhale one
last trace
of boy
by morning
but guilt chalks
every promise
murmured,
a silhouette
of nights spent dying;
it can not whisper
all of him away.
In a list
A contest entry
- ~ Erased ~ by Zayra Yves.
1750 points, ended October 28, 2007, 26 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think (Critical Honesty Appreciated)
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
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Should've shined Gold at me~~~!
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"It can not whisper all of him away." Maybe that's a good thing.
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This is intense. I think it is mindblowingly intense.
Well done.
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So Well Done
This is a most wonderful poem, that speaks to all who read it, I really enjoyed the emotions hidden between the lines, great job, John
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incredibly poignant ... (take that!)
...every line etches deeper the outline of difficult choice and life afterwards. I can find no fault in any of the lines... only the word 'guilt' always pisses me off... but we don't want to go there. So I won't.
Enjoy the weekend,
Kj
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Very nice work
"but guilt chalks
every promise
murmured,"
I love this metaphor. Although this poem is very specific to you, the guilt of broken promises is something I think everyone can relate to - rendering the entire poem accessible to the reader, regardless of how personal it is.
"a silhouette
of nights spent dying;"
I really found these lines heart-wrenching. You put this so concisely without a bunch of flowery melodramatics and the effect is touching and powerful.
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Great work, amazing flow and imagry.
I have one criticism though, the concept of marking corpses with chalk outlines is actually a hollywoodism. Albeit a well known one, but it doesn't actually occur. Crime scenes are photographed for things like corpse possitioning.
As usual, I haven't got anything with respect to the flow, or word choice to critique. Your poems are always humbling in thier beauty, and simplicity.
If I haven't already said so, best of luck on your journey!
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I do know of the Hollywood element - but feel it is ingrained well enough in popular culture to carry its intent
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I forgot to mention ..
this is slam dunk for gold.
At least in my opinion. -
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Sshhhh - you could jinx me!
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i hate critical honesty, and while you ask for it and say it is appreciated, i hate it. i like poems, even trash poems whose destiny is the corner dust bin. at least when I read crap, I know I can, at the very least, write like them. I know I will most likely never be able to pull poems from the air in some brilliant act of prestidigitation, like you seem to be able to do, at will. You have this knack for tapping into imagery, the unconscious mind (i.e. Jung) so very well and bring forth a whole other creature into existence. I admire this poem. I like the honesty of the exploration you present. The truth of identity that masks “being” presented so clearly. The surgeon’s markings likened to the outline where a body once lived. I know that a surgery cannot “solve” all illness it cannot whisper it away – not for me - so I have resorted to screaming, aloud, my anguish into a tear-stained pillows instead. The poem is brilliant, as are you.
blessings and best wishes, ~r.
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And you are a dear heart with more strength than I think you'll ever accept.
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I like Yvettes comment~ paste here.
yes, after death, a rebirth.
Excellent depiction of what it must sometimes feel like.
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ouchies, you
just know that i know who you are
and so many others here do as well.
maybe there will always be a whisper
a lifetime of memories even that haunt
that doesn't change who you should have been born.
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I like the reference to chalk,the imagery of an outline that maybe erased but the dying saddened me immensely even though I am aware it's through choice,it was the harshness of dying yet after death there is rebirth and that is a natural cycle,for do we not all experience several small deaths along our journey,as we change and renew and as we come to terms with those changes or being parted from others.
I truly feel you should consider publishing a book devoted to your transgender writes,both as a part of your own soul satisfaction but also to inspire and educate others.I feel both the usage of morning or mourning may work equally within this piece.
This is so poignant and thought provoking,I wanted to reassure the boy that he was not,as inferred ,to be completely forgotten,perhaps the whisper reference was by others innuendo but nethertheless I feel like ceremoniously saying you are not erased,you will walk with me and stay within the special shelf of my mantle,myself,you are a very courageous poetess and have the ability to touch your reader.
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soon it will be a dusty line, drawn out... a photograph of time and place... will always be a part of you .... but nevertheless only a remmant of what was
and of course .... plaster of paris 
.... ooops... me bad, so shoot me!!! please
dear lord, please engage brain before gob comes into gear
Kate.... this is .... such superb heartfelt words without over sentimentality or self effacing shite... it's the dog's bollocks... yes! seems like gold to me
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