Wrinkled Curiosity

They shall hang limp at my side

For now is my time

 

My unbroken arms

With no intention of reaching

 

I remember one day, my fists

Were clenched, to the point of drawing blood

 

My smooth lips tightened, drawn back

In an unwelcoming smile

 

Today those lips wrinkle, and relax

In an expressionless shape

 

I'm afraid to admit

It's one I've never known

 

It feels as if soft hands

Are kneading my skin

 

Or a soft pure white pillow

Slipped beneath my tired head

 

I do not know what

To make of this sensation

 

I'm told I should enjoy

These times, as well as dread

 

So far I've done neither

Curiosity is my only friend

 

Maybe I should feel

As if I'm wasting away

 

But no, I don't think

Not today.

Author's Note

Tell me what you think about this poem, i.e. what is it about, to you? Or if there are any lines that don't appear to fit, please tell me! Thank you!

Reviews

[Annie K.]

Your poem seemed like it was about changing as a person without meaning to and then suddenly realizing it. More specifically, it feels like your protagonist is used to being dominant and powerful but somehow unintentionally became almost mellow and passive. When I got to the lines "Or a soft pure white pillow/Slipped beneath my tired head" it felt like this protagonist realized that being dominant all the time took a lot out of them and actually weakened them. Becoming passive allowed them to not exactly recharge, but rest. The last few lines make the protagonist begin to feel remorseful, but the last two give the character a twist and shows the reader his/her indifference and old dominant personality. Overall, this poem was very good and interesting to read/analyze. I would say that it's anthology quality and congrats on publishing your first poem on Writer's Cafe!

[Lucien]

I enjoyed this poem, especially the lines: "Or a soft pure white pillow

Slipped beneath my tired head" But if I could offer a critique, I'd say to lose the word "white". The reason would be to add a very beautiful alliteration to an already beautiful line. "Or a soft pure pillow slipped beneath"

The reason I'd sugguest that other than the alliteration would be that if the pillow is pure than it conjures an image of it being white whether being conscious or unconscious.

Great read though :)

p.s, thank you for the comment