I thought distance would find us
after years of burying our skins
in the sand of afterthoughts,
but I suppose even
father time would know our
differences.
After all, I've sat through it
on crackling leaves
watching him move
gracefully through each and every hour
like a poet,
penning the epilogue of
my forefathers.
I kissed life on the tongue
and waited for it to kiss my neck
but what you'll learn through
stretching fingers,
is that it always bites back
and it blisters
as the pendulum slows down the
final years of my footsteps.
I forgot to dance
while I wisked through
the drifting pieces of my existence,
clutching a diary and
praying for
the rain to dissolve
each breath until I found
nothing left.
Author notes
My body is back home, safe in the bed I laid it to rest in.
Its alright, keep moving. I'll join you in ashes.
Comments
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Love the title; Tracing the Picture
The poem does just that, trying to reveal more than a tracing by maneuvering the lines with a sensitive pencil. (I am moved to implore you to dance whenever you get a chance.) Interesting imagery! -
penning the epilogue of
my forefathers
I loved those lines. my only critique for this poem is that the time references started to feel a little excessive towards the end. obviously, it's necessary for the poem to have a lot of them because they are an important part of the poem. i don't know if i'm really suggesting that you change anything, because it's actually fine as it is, i just thought i'd point out that the repetition of it was really noticeable, i guess. anyway, i like this! lol
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I've also noticed my constant repetition of words and themes. I honestly think its because I try too hard to find my muse. Writers block really is difficult, but I honestly appreciate the critisism. I've looked it over and I'm sure I can make adjustments.
Thank you for reading -
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no problem
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