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Literature Text
I can meditate on my humanity
and think about what I've
shut away, and for the first time
it doesn't corrode at my chest.
Yes, sorrow is acidic.
I thought I had known,
but life is strange in that
it teaches me lessons
I could've sworn I learned already.
For now, I am comfortably numb.
I can sit cross-legged
and stare into nothing,
leaving myself with myself
without lighting that poisonous fire in me.
I can smile and feel honest.
I can embrace this unwanted identity.
I can mold my pain from clay into
a spine of steel to keep me sitting straight.
I am Elizabeth Rhiannon,
not Michael's Girl or
She-Who-Was-His.
I am taking the fire that he saw
in my eyes and pushing it into my heart,
like a furnace, let it fuel me.
We may have died,
but that does not kill me!
I am the strong and the flexible,
I have gazed into my own hell
and almost broken,
and I've crawled from that hole
by myself.
I will not make myself a widow
of the man I never married.
Shattered dreams weren't made
for fixing, they exist to be
ground into dust and turned into
something beautifully new.
So consider this my introduction,
my fiery rebirth.
Hello.
and think about what I've
shut away, and for the first time
it doesn't corrode at my chest.
Yes, sorrow is acidic.
I thought I had known,
but life is strange in that
it teaches me lessons
I could've sworn I learned already.
For now, I am comfortably numb.
I can sit cross-legged
and stare into nothing,
leaving myself with myself
without lighting that poisonous fire in me.
I can smile and feel honest.
I can embrace this unwanted identity.
I can mold my pain from clay into
a spine of steel to keep me sitting straight.
I am Elizabeth Rhiannon,
not Michael's Girl or
She-Who-Was-His.
I am taking the fire that he saw
in my eyes and pushing it into my heart,
like a furnace, let it fuel me.
We may have died,
but that does not kill me!
I am the strong and the flexible,
I have gazed into my own hell
and almost broken,
and I've crawled from that hole
by myself.
I will not make myself a widow
of the man I never married.
Shattered dreams weren't made
for fixing, they exist to be
ground into dust and turned into
something beautifully new.
So consider this my introduction,
my fiery rebirth.
Hello.
Literature
and even so, you stayed
I taste rain on your lips
and I know you’ve been
writing poetry again.
I breathe into the touch
of your fingers
cascading in a soft scale
down the cage of bones
around my heartbeat.
you kiss me
knowing
the colors that drift
in my mind
like water beneath
all the bridges that were
burned for me
and you stay.
Literature
self-organized
the fatal attraction of civil mysticism and the ingenuity of the perfect aspect ratio fit me into my corner so I could cube myself and bloom under pressure never ending as expected new cubbyholes to place in my belly filled with grief and relief for the mes no one wants to see.
Literature
grow
To the dandelion,
In this part of the world,
the heart of July is frigid.
Frost renders the clay-earth firm as concrete
while gusts from the snowies
raze any hope of warmth.
Things do not thrive here,
yet this is where fate cast your seed
and you, unwillingly, grew your roots,
and became mangled
by what should have nurtured.
But spoiler alert:
survival is no pretty thing.
You are no spring tulip,
no summer orchid,
no autumn rose.
Though it shames you now,
the day will come
where you are proud
of having grown
out of a crack in pavement.
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I am full of fire right now. I don't know why, but I don't want it to leave. Though, I know it'll burn out eventually...but it's come back before. It will visit me again.
Comments5
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Overall Vision
Originality Technique ImpactI really liked this one. As with all the other poems you write, it speaks from the heart. Reading through this and all the others, I feel as though I've gone through your breakup experience myself, even though I've never met you and likely never will. It's amazing just how well we can communicate with the written word when we really apply ourselves.
From a critiquing perspective, I can't honestly say that this is original, but rather tried and true, and written from your own perspective. It feels honest, not stilted, and it brings across the emotional impact that you want it to.
I don't really know anything about critiquing technique, but from a grammar and spelling perspective I found two things:
"I can mold my pain of clay" I think that this would work better if you replaced the 'of' with 'from'. You are, after all, changing from clay to steel.
"like a furnace, let it fuel me" should be, "like a furnace, letting it fuel me," because you are "pushing", and therefore using present tense. Switching tenses like that is generally not a good idea.
Hope this helped, and may that fire continue to fuel you!