I'm as many as they come, in one.
The artist, the thief, and the misguided.
The artist tends to himself in the keen darkness
taking pleasure in tainted dreams
that come steady
in demons, women, and butterflies
The theaf to the unwary world sends his wit,
but wits are drawn and dry.
So he is kept,
till life's blind and compromised
again
The misguided, bred by stupor,
befriends apathy, and delusion
unknowing that the silent match that lights the two
in a womb of fire
is he himself
who hides in public, laughs at love
and sins in the face of justice.
A contest entry
- we are not what you think we are by deadpixie020.
400 points, ended November 20, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Take your time, and comment honestly please
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Did you mean to write: "the thief?" or am I mistaken that this may be a typo?..I like the wry tone of this one. Good write, Rami. Peace, Rhonda
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:)
A thief it is
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I think this would read better if you broke "the artist tends" off as its own stanza, because the other two persons are given their own stanzas as well. It's a very fascinating write, dealing with introspection apparently, but a little hard to understand. I've read it three times now, and love the images, and the concluding stanza is awesome. I'm just not sure I fully comprehend what is going on here.
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Yes the artist was intended individualy i'll edit it and since you knew this is introspective then you have understood it dear poet
no poem is meant to be fully understood
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Yay. love it great write.
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