I am enclosed by these four white walls
A cool breeze flows through the crack in
The speckled glass window, bringing with it
The song and smell of the city, tantalising
And teasing with all of its false impressions.
Sometimes I sally forth from my self-imposed prison
Pretending at an escapee’s joy bound freedom
While around me shadows crawl, unnoticed
And unnoticing, creativity slipping away from
Their fingers, unseen by their unwillingness to dream.
I feel that I seem strange to their mundane eyes;
Fettered by the bland monotony of their enforced labours,
So designed it seems to bend and break the soul
And force it into the cogs and gears of the dull grey
Machine that they blindly define living to be.
Dying to live and then living just to die?
Again and again... is that truly the way?
Unwashed and unneeded, washed and unwanted,
Drawing on a fantasy, perhaps just a faded memory,
Of when...or if... the world seemed to have no borders.
I think sometimes that I can vaguely recall when blue
Was draped in hope and red was afire with deeper
Meanings, when white daydreams would float across
The sky and when black was a spangled canvas
Guiding me onwards into a revelatory dawn.
Alone now, the streets are silent except for
The clanking of dirty dishes in a wash lady’s hand,
The breeze, once cool and invited, is now tepid
And rank with stench of the urban decay while the
Setting sun lights rosy upon the alabaster walls.
No longer does the outside world intrude upon the
Ringing tinnitus in my ears, the trucks and trains have
Ceased their screeching march across my awareness
And even the sparrows have silenced their broken song,
For the mates they call to have hidden from the swelter.
Sheltered now from the insipid wantings of the gormless
Throng, the self-induced hysteria that pervades and
Inoculates this society from the cries and painful needings,
Shoots arrows of agonising helplessness into soul, I reach
To soothe but my hand passes through untouching.
Like ghosts they call, them that cannot feel my touch,
Perhaps it is I who is spiritless; perhaps it is I who is
The dream and this bleak world but a nightmarish
Illusion that my spirit can not escape cold comfort
In a fantasy that brings ice to a summer night.
...
In a list
What did you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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i needed to read your poem twice or thrice to analyze and understand.only poetry panatics will give time to read this.
this poem is in free verse..so there is no highly need for scruttiny of elements of the poetry.
my litereal understanding of the poem is that the person is in much solitude. he lives alone by himself
and loves to be alone. he just takes glances and watches what is happening in his sorrounding. there are type of people as such-"loner".
in reading it between and beyond the lines. the person himself has the defects in mingling or socializing with others. he goes along with others but deep inside there is seclusion or never he does but to confines himslef in his shell. sometimes he smiles but deep inside he cries so hard. they don't appreciate the essence of life, the beauty of companionship, lessons from experiences anymore. they lose their zeal and advocacy in living. there are different reasons indeed, that only that person himself knows. he alone traces and heals the roots of his sadness, pain and bitterness so that he can move on and start anew.
the messages of the poem are broad and touches many aspects of our life; emotion,psycho.,social and mental.
congrats!!! a brand new poetry...
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No, not new; ancient in its structure.
Thank you for your analysis of my poem; in depth and to some degree accurate.
Free-verse is removed from the 'traditional structure' of poetry, but not removed from the 'elements' of true poetry. It is often harder to study the tecnical aspects of free-verse due to its lack of distinct pattern and form, but making the attempt is always worth the time.
I am greatful for your in-depth assay of my work.
Adrian.
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I love the cogs in the background!
They compliment the imagery you paint so vividly throughout this write.
Your line 'dying to live and then living just to die' reminds me of the saying 'I prefer to work to live, rather than live to work" (something like that).
I am a believer of dreams and 'law of attraction' and that we can have whatever our heart desires and I'm darn sure we weren't put on this earth to grind ourselves into our graves.
Thank you for reinforcing my thoughts throughout my earlier day.
This is an exquisite poem which I will return to view again 1) to look up the meaning of a couple of words and 2) to relish again; like you would watch a good movie in hope of catching something you missed the first time.
I can't speak on any technical aspects as I am very new to poetry.
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I'm glad you thought the background complimented the write, it took me some time to pick it.
You make a good refernce between my line and that saying, although to be quite honest that line is just a basic alteration of an rather old saying as well.
I'm glad that it helped reinforce your own thoughts, to some degree that was the intent although I had also intended to inspire certain thoughts in the reader as well.
1) if you want the meaning of certain words (I am well aware that use certain 'archaic' words in my writes), ask; I don't use words I don't know the meaning of.
2) Feel free to visit as often as you would like, I love return visits; they seem so much more cinsere than people who just drop around once.
You critique well for one who is 'new to poetry', none should be offended by a person expressing the opinions that they have over the presentation that they have viewed.
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Deep , I feel like you step outside and for so reason today eyes that was once close open and you realize that this world and the people in it are in so much trouble. I felt as if you looked deep into your soul an pull forth the pain of anyone world coming to its end. I may be way off but I love that feel of standing outside of oneself and seeing thing for the broken pictures that they are. Love this
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Thanks for your comment, I'm glad you took the time to look into the write.
I'm glad you liked it so
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388...hmmmm
Considering how you applaud me when I finally rhyme (very occasionally) I feel the urge to tell you how much I love your free verse and I must disagree with you when you said this poem was morbid; far from it. There was so much depth of feeling in your words and from that feeling I actually drew hope...for reasons that only you would understand.
If you can remember the notes on my original author page you would know that I always aspired to write as well as you and this poem is just another reason for me to try harder
I hope that the host of this contest realises what a beautiful poem you have submitted and I wish you all the best.
My love always
Margaret
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