[Note: Based on my unscientific research, it appears that all bloggers must write and post bad poetry. Okay then.]
AFTERWARD
Empty is a cold blue room
cry, scream, curse
sob, weep, stomp
then listen
for the echo
forever listen
for the sound turned blue
icy shards of pain
sucked away
into the cold
the room still round
round and cold
cold and deaf
deaf and blue
still empty is the room
of love
of sound
of salve
of balm
no solace
no sound
no calm
only
only
The Empty
* * * * * * * * * * *
4 comments:
Wow! Pretty grim but at least you posted it. And I got to read it. I applaud you.
Well, I know I can't write poetry, but a part of me has always wanted to the same part that wants to be a painter, photographer, ballerina. :)
I admit to having written this within an hour the same night I went through a break-up. Revised several times, but just minor things. I do wonder if there are any strengths to build on. Sometimes poetry seems more efficient than fiction. Thanks for reading. Hope it didn't depress you. The rest of the postings are funny, so I figured I could afford ONE dark piece. I appreciate your coming back to visit. BTW, I linked to you on my Blog page! Don't know if you saw it.
You call it "bad poetry", but am I allowed to like it? Because I do. I think that there's talent to build on here, yes. Not, admittedly, that I know a darn thing about poetry, so I have no rules to compare it against, but it paints its picture and evokes emotion and there are no "oog, not _that_ word" moments to disrupt the flow.
Chickie (may I call you Chickie?)...I TOTALLY know what you mean about the icky word moment. I teach HS, after all. Most poetry written by adolescents is pretty much all icky and ooky. Might try more. And take up oil painting and bellydancing.
Hey, did anyone else notice that someone "laughed" at this post? I am either concerned about that person's mental health, or wish the brilliant critic would follow up with literary analysis.
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