An Open Book

You are scattering, fading, slipping away, dissolving.

Tatters of you, 

Random fragments, 

Are falling to the ground,

And the breeze threatens to steal you.

I pick up the leather,

The parchment, 

The ink,

The confidence -your stride,

And piece them together. 

But this book, incomplete, is unsatisfying,

And you, the true author, 

Are out wandering. 

Adventure, or romance?

Whatever it may be,

Please: don't let your masterpiece go unfinished. 

Author's Note

I haven't edited this yet, so feel free to pick away! It just feels great to meet new people to be inspired by :)

Reviews

[Beccy]

nicely detailed metaphor. We are all unfinished books, some more open than others.

First two stanzas are very good, the last two slip away a little, but not in a badly written sense, they just perhaps need expanding a little. For example; in the third stanza, you could say, 'this book, as yet incomplete, remains unsatisfying,' and by using 'whilst' in the second line instead of 'and, it flows easier as I read. Also, after 'whatever it may be,' in the fourth stanza, the addition of 'wherever you are,' would seem to fit quite well. These are only suggestions by the way, I'm not 'picking away,' but this poem has real promise and working on the last two stanzas a little would definitely round it off nicely.



Beccy.

[Gracie.M]

Thanks for the constructive feedback, it's really appreciated. :)

[littlewhitebird]

I liked to the first two verse, but the last two seemed unconnected. I understand the concept, although, I would suggest an edit. Overall, nice and simply enjoyable :)

[Neon]

I enjoyed the poem, very true poem that's written totally from the depth of the heart. I liked the simplicity of this piece. I loved readin' the first stanza that's so cool. Beautiful artistry!