IV End

IV End

The words that were once the gravity of my existence have become wings that flap of their own accord. From learning to write to skyward flight, I roll onward, with no concern, but enlightenment; no fear, but that of ignorance. I have left the ruins of Never Was, and I am storming the gates of What Could Be. I am a poet; doomed to the whims of my own senses, enslaved by the pictures of my own mind. I am alive. A tangle of barbwire with a fresh warm pulse. Touch me. We'll bleed in harmony.

Reviews

[Louie Sprig]

R.G.,
The voice within this poem is powerful.The first line is very interesting. Consider telling the reader why there has been a shift in "my existence." You present some very forceful lines that are very engaging. For example," I am alive, a tangle of barbwire with a fresh warm pulse." Terrific stuff. Perhaps provide some more details concerning the narrator's fear of ignorance. I enjoyed reading your poem and wish you great success.
Hope this helps,
Louie