poetry critical

online poetry workshop


From a warm bed
in a cold home,
heart, mind, muscle and bone,
but known, to try and
make the feeling last
by suffocating on the
laughing gas,
to all those dreams where
something happens
that you wish would,
and it feels good,
and you’re not happy,
to wake up
in the same dust,
rate of exchange—
no, your dreams aren’t
currency here;
hold yourself to blame.
From witnessing the depths
of a soul unfold,
dreaming of getting
to watch her grow old,
to the floor, linoleum,
critical condition,
fiending something in return
for all the wasted ambition.
And your thoughts,
they start to get lost
in the noise, and
you recall, that
your contribution is
the poison;
she drinks it
and thinks it to be
warm to the lips,
and you smile,
while watching her
contort and twist—
but the abstraction
was the divine,
the artifact of your aim,
and the ill-willed
and unfulfilled
still clearly remain.
So return
to the deep burn
of unlearned
for you know
that what will be,
will be
just like
what was.

29 Oct 13

Rated 10 (10) by 1 users.
Active (1): 10
Inactive (3): 10, 10, 10

(define the words in this poem)
(14 more poems by this author)

(1 user considers this poem a favorite)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha


i like it
 — mandolyn

I like the loosely spiraling rhyming scheme in this .. it holds no real form but is sprinkled down the page... that ultimately breaks down, breaks apart because it's not holding the poem together .. which I like ... a lot.

It's a true reflection of the poems meaning and content, and working the form with the same downward spiral as the gorgeously morose gloom of the subject.

Very nice. A good poem.
 — jenn

 — fractalcore