It was quick, but the pain was delayed.
A glaring flash of white from his mouth,
A firm grasp from his palm,
A brief pen stroke,
Not quite ten seconds,
And it was over.
The pain wouldn't set in for awhile;
Not for years
Not for countless coffee pots
Not for hundreds of take outs
Not for hours of monotony
Of staring and screening
Over and over
Like this
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Like ThiSS (error, send back)
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No, not for years.
Only after so much
Did I realize one evening
Upon opening the envelope
Of false dreams
That thanks to a pen stroke
I own countless things,
But a man with a glaring white mouth
Would always own me.
A contest entry
- Subtlety Required. by Kelsey-Jo.
714 points, ended May 4, 12 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Critiques please. Good and bad. I can't improve without your help.
Comments
-
i am speechless! really! i wish you the best of luck in this contest that you have entered and thank you for sharing this with me today. viyanna rosemarie
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I meant stale in a good way! Like the professionalism is stale, not your poem!! Haha. I should have worded that one better.
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Oooh.
Interesting. I like the use of form to reinforce your point. It gives the meat of this poem a stale, professional tone. Is this about accepting some kind of job or position that compromised the self for the material?
Very intriguing write; thanks for entering!
K-J
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