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My Words Have Fled
I search for inspiration in my mind,
but it has fled to more hospitable climes.
An infinite desert filled
with rusted words and sentences
too good for casual dalliances;
stored but never used.
Like a fine tuxedo yearning to be worn,
but never comes a grand enough day.
Rooms filled from floor to ceiling
With thoughts and broken lines
An attic that shelters relics and useless things;
spare junk of the brain and thoughts unnurtured
storehouse of misuse and neglect.
No safe harbor,
Creativity has fled.
Taunted by misshapen words
bent or shaped to fit,
I run, walk, and crawl
stretching, reaching, bending;
scouring every inch of my mind.
My muse feeds me grapes
that withered on the vine.
Words to fill the page
but I do not listen for lack of attention
or work ethic
or caring.
Once populated by residents
who danced and laughed,
playing for the crowd.
The void is filled with mere echoes.
Ideas that should have been
put to proper use in rhyme,
but never found a place of love.
The hot wind embraces me with warmth.
Singing me a lullaby.
And whispering gently in my ear,
but there is nothing more to be said.
My words have fled.
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Comment by: ticra - 2007-02-27 20:52
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whew. I know how that feels. :)
I really liked all the imagery in this poetry, it really gives you a sense of how it al feels and how, in a weird sense, lonely it is.
great job! |
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Ahh, trying to break your block through writing about it - lol. How many times have I done / tried to do this. Sometimes it works, and others it does not - This one works.
As for critique, well Teri has said anything I was going to, so rather than cut / paste - lol. |
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Comment by: Teri - 2007-02-18 21:18
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I agree with the previous reviewer:
My muse feeds me grapes
that withered on the vine.
Great lines I think all writers will relate with. And yes, also, your words have not fled. Obviously. :) No, I knew what you mean, but I was really impressed with this poem.
Once populated by residents
that danced and laughed
One nitpick. In the above, "that" should be "who". Minor thing.
Nice writing and flow. I was worried at first because the first two lines rhyme, and I'm not a huge fan of rhyming poetry most times, but then the rest dipped and meandered just like a beautiful river. Nice, clean work, Marty. Thanks for sharing.
Teri xo |
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Comment by: - 2007-02-18 17:49
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"My words have fled."
i think not; i like this piece a lot (is it because i feel like this a lot?) and i like the metaphorical descriptions, this one in particular:
"My muse feeds me grapes
that withered on the vine."
well written. |
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