Solace...

 

 

A ceiling balanced on four cemented slabs,

Walls, hollow within,

With a thousand screams shut deep inside.

Closely structured with little breathing space.

Painted with morbid shades.

A faint light, hopelessly, dimming above the head.

A window with a crack in the pane, showcasing a tree skeleton,

Standing against the sunrise every dawn,

A perpetual eclipse of sun.

Besides the only breathing soul,

Breathes the termites, on the only wooden saviour with a rusted latch,

A dilapidated home.

 

Knock-knock.

A bang on the door,

Drives the eyes to the tick-tock,

Time’s stretching its hands to the peak in unison,

Later than usual.

 

Step forward, peep through the glass,

Broad nose, begging eyes, a pleasure on flame tucked between lips,

Smoke escaping from the hollow,

A grotesque figure,

But a weary soul!

 

Unlock the weak, wooden saviour,

Let him in.

In the cloister, dark and dingy,

Slams the door, and ears hear the shuffling of tired feet behind.

 

Close.

Close he comes, breathes on the nape,

Eyes search for eyes,

Grabs tight, with ears on heaving breasts,

Voices stay silent but the heart beats.

Droplets stock up on the navel from dampened sockets

Pressed against the cleavage.

 

The over-flown pitcher filled with agony,

A silent cry of all the unvoiced failures, witnessed under the sun,

A piercing pain of being deprived,

The known oblivion to deceit the unattended present.

 

God.

I lean against the hollow wall,

Where I stand against it strong as a shield,

Hold your head and feel your unnoticed sweat,

Place it gently on the soft flesh.

And re-coronate YOU with a kiss on your forehead!

 

Reviews

[Prudence Desideria]

Beautiful wording, very epic somehow. Made me think of the movie 'Sin City' when I read it, with the black and white/gray scale and then moments of bright color that shines through and captures the attention of the on-looker. You jumble the words easily and professionally, and formulate a complex structure that the reader feels compelled to investigate, thus capturing our interest with your word games...
great work.
hugs,
prudence

[.mate.feed.kill.repeat.]

The introduction to this piece was a bit too wordy... it read much too slowly to really lead into the rest of it. The words and descriptions are too random. There is no logical flow to this piece, which makes it hard to follow. I was especially lost with the conclusion. The last line doesn't fit whatsoever, especially has an exclamation. Sorry mate, but this one just doesn't work for me.

[Rain]

I got lost in this one. Is it her child at the end. Some very beautiful and haunting lines. I read it twice. I've learned to just take a writing as it is. I do not try to enter the writers mind. I just read for feeling, not always understanding. I felt feeling at the end of this, Rain..

[Kara Emily Krantz]

wow. this was pretty intense. I wasn't sure exactly where i was or what was going on, but at the same time the descriptors were so tangible, so wonderfully chosen. I agree with what prudence has said about jumbling the words in a way that's great.

thanks for entering my contest :) :)

hugs

[Candle in the wind]

And re-coronate YOU with a kiss on your forehead!

I wish I could offer such solace inspite of being confined within a closely structured wall.
Vivid imagery.

[Undiscovered]

This is stunning imagery! I felt compelled to read it slowly and visualize every line. I will have to check your items more closely to see if you have stories as well as poetry. What an exceptional piece of work...

Favorite line: "Broad nose, begging eyes, a pleasure on flame tucked between lips"

A clear absolute vision, a scene fluidly transferred to words. Excellent work...

[None]

You really paint a story here...and it's unique and different. Your words..." The over-flown pitcher filled with agony, A silent cry for all the unvoiced failures, witnessed under the sun, A piercing pain of being deprived, The known oblivion to deceit the unattended present,"...these hit me with such an intensity and caused me to think about each word for some time. Superb poetry!

[Phil Sanders]

Brilliant writing .. such superb imagery .....

[Kate]

Very interesting...I'm at a loss for words, I am afraid. Too be honest, I cannot tell if I like it so much, or think it more of an out-of-the-box story. Incredibly unique, and I like the imagery a lot.

Kate

[Cynthia L. Cavett]

At first I thought this was about the holocaust, you had written it in such a way that I didn't think it was one person. You were very successful in bringing these images to the forefront of my mind, very good with your description. Very brutal and eerie, with room for growth. I hope to read more of your work!

[Ryan Jaimz Knight]

A beautifully contructed piece, that adds a note of gothic beauty that cleverly disguises a night punctuated by the brutal rape of a woman by an unknown intruder at her door. I did not like the opening lines, or the first stanza. Not because of the words, but because of the style, structure, and the fact that it gives much of the plot away rather than set the scene for the coming events. One of the key elements of poetry is symmetry, unless you are writing a sonnet, or an ode where division is unnecessary, and couplets can be interspersed with lines that are phonetically dissimilar such as with Shakespearean epics. The first stanza reads:

A ceiling balance on four cemented slabs,
Walls, hollow within,
With a thousand screams shut deep inside,
Closely structured with little breathing space.
Painted with morbid shades.
A faint light, hopelessly, dimming on top of head.
A window, with a crack in the pane, showcasing a tree skeleton,
Standing against the sunrise every dawn,
A perpetual eclipse of sun.
Besides the only breathing soul,
Breathes the termites on the only wooden savior with a rusted latch,
A dilapidated home

Unfortunately, it loses most of it's power due to the volume of words, and when I first went through it I was thrown off because I wasn't sure of the speaker's direction. A 'tighter' version would be:

A ceiling balanced,
On four slabs of stone.
A hollow cage,
Of walls and screams.

Shades of black,
And splashes of gray.
Broken by cracked windows,
And spiderwebs.

Sticks and brambles,
Their shadows across the floor.
Yet all held without,
By a rusted savior of brass and oak.

Just by breaking apart the numerous lines of the first stanza, adhering to a symmetrical style, and utilizing a more even rhythm this poem is now ready to easily slide into the next lines:

Knock-knock,
A bang on the door,
Drives the eyes to the tick-tock,
Time�s stretching its hands to the peak in unison,
Later than usual.

Now, the scene has been set up, the atmosphere of a dark night, in a run-down house has created the setting for where this act is about to take place. Some of the suspense, however, it lost after the stranger enters the house. When first introduced he easily comes off as being a nefarious character, but without more details to describe him he is a bit more faceless than he needs to be. True, this poem isn't entirely about him, he isn't in need of a formal introduction, but some added imagery would make him less two-dimensional, and turn him into a scary entity who's facelessness only adds to the horror of the reader as they enter the next scene where the final events unfold. Again, the middle stanza detracts from the story by utilizing more words than necessary:

Close.
Close he comes, breathes on the nape,
Eyes search for eyes,
Grabs tight, with ears on heaving breasts,
Voices stay silent but the heart beats,
Droplets stock up on navel from dampened sockets
Pressed against the cleavage.

By breaking it up, making it more edgy, and carnal the act takes on a life of it's own. It would then interplay beautifully with this set of lines that needs no alternation whatsoever:

The over-flown pitcher filled with agony,
A silent cry for all the unvoiced failures, witnessed under the sun.
A piercing pain of being deprived,
The known oblivion to deceit the unattended present.

After all is said and done, I do like the final lines that exemplifies the emotions of the attacker, and makes the scenes that much more gripping and real:

God.
I lean against the hollow wall,
Where I stand against it strong as a shield,
Hold your head and feel your unnoticed sweat,
Place it gently on the soft flesh.
And recoronate YOU with a kiss on your forehead!

The idea that what he has done is somehow of benefit to the woman he has attacked, a self-scentered POV that is typical of most rapists who usually violate another out of a need for power, and a egomaniacal belief that their actions are somehow a blessing or whatever to the victim. A glorified power-trip at the cost of another's humanity and dignity. After reading this, I think that this poem has a lot of potential, but needs a little work in order to realize it. You have a great concept so far, most people wouldn't even touch this subject, but you have done it in such a way as to hold onto the attention of your reader without turning them off to the whole thing. Hard to do, for even the best writers, but here you've done it well. By shoring up the technical and grammatical aspects of this piece, I could see it becoming a contender for publication if you decide to go that route. As it stands now, it is a very tight rough draft where all of your ideas are down on paper, now to just get them to go in the same direction. I enjoyed reading this, and I hope that this review helps. Thank you for taking the time to write, put up, and share this piece with everyone here on WC. I hope you have a wonderful and creative day and weekend!
Ciao!
BJH