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Can you describe what I am?
Am I like the others who roam around?
Or are the others like me, who prevail on thought.
Can I change for them...for me?
Who am I to decide what I am?
This life is all new to me.
I see things I've never in another life have seen before.
Will I continue this life as I am?
Or will I search for more answers?
Who will I go to?
Who will come to me?
I am confused.
[Author's note: I was sorta writing this in a newborn's point of veiw, if they have one.]
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I like the idea of trying to write a poem from the point of view of a newborn. It's definitely a challenge. My first impression was that this piece is a bit too heavy with questions. Now I can understand why you wrote it that way. I would edit the line "I see things I've never in another life have seen before." May be take out the second "have."
Excellent subject for a poem. You've hit on a great way of suggesting innocence through confusion; I like the sense of anticipation of change and the inability to ever pin-down identity. Bit of T.S. Eliot there!
As criticism: though it might impede your poem's openness to other interpretations, I felt that including something more of a sense of being a baby--existing as a baby in its immediate, tactile environment--would really add to the power of this piece.
Your first three lines are excellent: the first for your clever engagement of the receptor, working on two levels; the second for its baby-eye-view and sense of the established world's futility; the third for the idea of 'prevailing on thought'. This is a very refreshing way of viewing newborn babies, and a valid one. Thanks for posting.
The Raider is a valuable mask from the Great Lakes region of Central Africa made available to trade for guns. Then it's stolen. Its owner enlists a random collection of movie extras to get it back. Action is graphic. Imagery lurid. Not recommended for gentle readers.
