The Poet

As she erased yet another sentence,

She realized her life was constantly

The erasing of her mistakes

And trying to cover what was

Left of them of them

With brightly colored ink.

She was determined, however,

The last letter she ever wrote

Would be the one thing she

Finally had done right.

And so, when it was found next to her,

It was written in all red.

Reviews

[Patrick Henry]

I really like how you have capitalized the first of each new sentence in your wonderful poem. There IS a lot of "she's" and "her's", though. It makes, for me, the process of exclusively falling in step with the story you are telling, to inevitably side with the character being spoken of. I am kept JUST outside the boundary of being able to accept this person into the mind out of empathy and that of a loveable kind of pity, but more sacred than anything else. : ) I think your poem is really cute in the sense that it reminds me of what others call "writer's block". Simple rhymes, but entertaining and your form makes for an interest to view your OTHER poetry. : ) xoxo -Mark

[caesarkreshen]

I always relay the story of the art teacher who broke the eraser off my pencil. Took me a long time to grasp the meaning.

That being said! I feel that explaining is a bad habit in poetry.

[Matthew Kult]

Hello Devon,

As she erased another sentence,
She realized what her life was
A mistake that needed erased

just a suggestion.

good read. Touching and true.

Always,

A.

[devon]

Thank you for your suggestion and your comments! It's always very much appreciated. :)

[Matthew Kult]

It was a pleasure to read. Much appreciate the quality that was placed in the throught of the work itself. Keep it up.