Workshop

We are here in a secluded circle
listening to the tone of tension
in others poems fraught with livid lines
laying thin layers of onion skin emotions
on love hate and energetic romps
of madness
electric stimulation
of the mind bending magic
words as brittle as bone
laid in technical verses
so sensitively sweet to the ears
tuning fork.

We applaud gently
afraid to be left out
even if not fully comprehended
of the verses so read.

Whatever keeps us stuck
like magnets to ritual bloodshed
as flesh and blood coerce
these rites of passage. We are slaves
to convention.

Even as I defy the dance
of technical wizardry
my mind frazzles at the meaning
that some modern poetry
exhibits
and numbs me into silence.

I clap hollow. 

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 29 days ago

Reviews

[Avinash]

Truthful ruminations and it does do justice to our time. I will call your poem as modern poetry. One of the definition of being modern I found very convincing ...it is something or someone who never accepts anything without passing the test of logic and wisdom.

[Ed Fagan]

I laughed inside at this. someone needed to say it.

[Alfred Kukitz]

Sometimes you read someone's word and drift off into enigmatic fascination. I never knew I could go there?

[Marshall]

Thank you Sir, Its a pleasure to get a comment like that.

[Lyn Anderson]

Brilliant -- at once defying convention and chiding us rebels -- love it.

[The Quill]

a deep poetry with many ways to interpret :) amazing stuff

[Shannon April Alice]

this is very well thought out...touching that writing bond that connects us all to the the writer (if not to the 'write')

[brian mclaughlin]

the hollow clap ... the tickling of the artists ears ... empty! well done!

[Matching Socks]

I clap, with genuine admiration.

[John Anderson]

Very nicely done! .................