Last night, I cried.
Sighed, deep inside
Where pain can be found
Confined alive.
The stain of tears
Tore through my eyes.
Drained fluids
I never knew were mine.
Confused was I.
A man reduced,
A child.
Feeble;
Desperately needing people.
Feening for the touch
Of someone meaningful.
Left with each feeling
Each part of my heart
Was feeling null;
Void and unacceptable.
Yet so unavoidable.
So vulnerable,
Coiled in an informal pose.
Soiled from head to clothes.
Every wound was so exposed;
Open.
Yet so hard to show.
Hoping no one knows.
Or notices the stream
That steady flows;
Drenching the parch crevices
Of a soul defeated.
Shredded to pieces
And depleting.
Reaching for something
Fleeting and
Disappearing.
Yet so near it is
That I can hear it.
Screaming
With a harsh voice
Turned hoarse.
Forced to tap into
Emotions stored.
Trapped and marred.
Abandoned
By a train of heart
Charted off course
And lost.
That moment comes to us all, at some point. Be it expected or not.
All captured here, sorrow, despair, longing, emptiness.
The words drew me in from the first line, Images very real, and takes you smack, bang into the soul of a person who is at a very low ebb.
The ending held no resolve, more a realisation there are issues needing facing. Of course, I could be talking out of my arse (ooppss)
But I loved this as I do all your work.
Such a lonely poem. It is not your usual, but I like your bravery for delving under the skin and into pain. The piece builds momentum and crescendos at the end for a strong finish. A good poem.
There's a jazz rhythm to this poem and its rhyme scheme which is undeniably speak-able and the tonal pattern of the words draws out a sombre tone with the emotions of the speaker. When I was into beat poetry and hanging out and doing my reads at the local coffee shops (back in the 90's) I would dream of summoning words such as these. It's a wonderful poem. I see few things I would think of correcting but these are just trifles: the lines "Teared through my eyes./Drained fluids" to "Tore through my eyes,/Draining fluids" is about the only one I'd really think about.
Yet so hard to show.
Hoping no one knows.
Or notices the stream
I believe that everyone has the ability to cry, but I don't believe everyone does it.
Reason being is that is shows others what you're feeling without your permission.
So this is why so many of us hide the tears, quickly wipe them away, or blame it on
our allergies.
Loneliness is what I get from this one. Maybe it's just me. I don't want to disect this because it's not nessesarry. It flows good and makes its point. Nice.
This flows very well. meant to be spoken aloud, never misses a beat. Well done. I noticed a word that I was unsure about.
You used "teared" in the 2nd stanza, and since you didn't mean "tore" in that context, maybe you meant "teared from" rather than "teared through." I only mention this because this poem is otherwise very fine. I was not sured about feening, but looked it up in the urban dictionary and of course you used it perfectly, and I learned a new word. Thanks.
...I rode for Miles on Coltrane...became Dizzy when I met the Duke...spent the Holiday with the King...and a handsome Monk...but it was a colorful Hancock that taught me how to Cooke and Count...
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