The seagull, spreadeagled,
Splayed on the wind
Will not deign to land on me
And on my rotten flesh, binge
For even a bird could sense my loss
Of total self-control
In a hole, I've crawled alone
To the devil, sold my soul
My gifts are many, fetters few
Yet spew out I, a tastless brew
From inside me comes this horrid wind
Stale and wasted on the world within
Of course, I've the heard
The good word hurts
But that's not what's got me down
Around the town I'm known as "pariah"
And that's the reason for my frown
Of all the birds I name as peers
There's none above the rest
Abreast of nothing to do with me
I've gotten all them off my chest
Author notes
13
A contest entry
- Index of First Lines by Keith.
525 points, ended March 29, 2008, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please interpret my reality
Comments
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Awesome poem. I love the first two lines especially. A few have said that your poetry is strange or doesn't make sense but neither did E.E. Cummings' poetry and he is one of the most famous poets in the world.
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Excellent sound-play, here. Would really love to hear this read aloud. I think you want a hyphen here: "spread-eagled", and I do think the "the" in line 13 is possibly a typo (or extraordinarily unnecessary, or you intended syntax is simply lost on the reader).
I love your irreverence. -
wow nice ending. really well done. I can relate to some of the emotion in this piece. the whole thing is great, but I just loved the ending.
pen on poet,
creatress
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An interesting take on this line. The first stanza is fine, but I'm not sure what the lines "Of course I've the heard/ the good word hurts" mean. Is there an extra word here? And could there be a word missing in the last line? A strange final stanza. Thanks for entering.
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