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solely engrossed, slow to emotions
prone to be a soul that is broken
lowly focus, frozen devotion
vocal notions erode when unspoken

(doing fine, i lie with a smile
while i fight my own quiet trial
i clear my head, i'm alright for a while
but
a mind that is clear is a mind in denial)

goal, avoidance of a throat opened
my vocal notions will go unspoken
choking on the voices stolen
prone to be a soul that is broken
I was ready to quit this site, but all the support that I have received while I wasn't even active has changed my mind. Thanks to all who have read my writing. Hugs to you all!
the hardest thing is faith
even with my best try
it's my own fate i create
it's me, myself, and i

it is such a heavy weight
under this silent sky
will i see the pearly gate
will i burn when i die

the hardest thing is faith
looking God in the eye
will my ways make my fate
of whether i fly or fry
~

prelude.

did you know that English stands alone as a written language requiring the capitalization of the word "I"... yet makes no similar provision for “we” or “us; a sad statement of self inflation.  it was after learning this that i abandoned the rule in my own poetry.


~

my i’s averted,
lowered, diverted,
reduced in size,
an exercise of
large proportions;
breaking down the me-isms,
finding room for we-isms,
to take the larger place;
create an i for seeing,
the case for simple,
smaller being;
no need to punctuate,
instead eliminate this
compulsion to inflate;
’tis my i-drop moment,
my i-reducing ointment,
these pupils are dilated,
deflating i and me,
enlarging we and thee;
finding that in i-reduction,
the eyes are widely opened,
thus to better see,
what i really need to be.
Dear David:

We are deeply gratified that you gave us the opportunity
to read your poems.  Notice that we say “opportunity”
rather than “submission,” for truly you graced us with works
of such enduring power, so sublime, so transcendent,
that our humble words scarce can adequately praise
the sacred privilege of reading them.

Seldom, no, never has human experience been so distilled,
so purified, so exalted, yet so exposed
in all its paradox, its shades and sunbursts,
shouts and silences, the hiding places redolent of inner light,
as in these timeless works.  

A calm breeze from the desert’s edge at dusk,
the chatter of a mockingbird at dawn,
the rumble and crash of a hidden waterfall,
the laughter of a child unseen in a cool wood’s shade,
emanate so intensely from the shapes of these letters
that our faith in the power of language to evoke reality
has been nourished and restored to its proper place.

However, we regret to inform you
that your poems do not meet our needs at this time,
which are for relevant poems for the upcoming
theme issue on Hammer Toes.

We hope you will consider us for future opportunities.

Sincerely,

The editors of ******* Quarterly
Have been collecting a lot of rejection letters lately.  Here's my interpretation.
Rebellion isn't death-defying.
No, it is the scythe itself:
the keen edge of derision
sharpened by subversion,
tested by disadvantage.

Down with the patriarch
but if you can't beat him
join him
betray him
enslave him...
Never ask:
is he the problem?

Each patriarchy is a tower
of tradition;
each brick: another tower;
each cell: another tower,
imprisoning
dignities and dignitaries
of fairer facade or form?

Fair would mean equal
but no man is made equal,
so why debase to elevate
why elevate to debase?

Down with the patriarch!
His ways have blinded us.
He asks too much.
Let us remake him,
that relic of bygone era.

Is power not what it is...
to be human?
No, it is not.
Love is that identity.
It is the total pleasure
it is the pain elixir
it is hidden beyond greed.
Greed for control.

Freedom is not control
Freedom is comfort
for one, truthfully, is only
ever
not free
when one is in pain.

So yes, destroy the patriarch,
but
don't destroy the man.
Masculinity is strange to behold.
As fascinating as it is disgusting.
As destructive as it is mending.
As balanced as it is chaotic.
As human as it is demonic.
But, always, it will defy itself to become something greater or nothing at all...
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