Trapped

I believe you have left me in a slightly bitter state. You have angered me, but I cannot be angered just Trapped.

Let go of me!

I have nothing for that lash of wind your flailing arms so

graciously

sent me You can be the mastermind.

if that's what you wish to be called

And you will lock me up

Trapped.

Inside your moment, 

your frustrations

Your eternity

that will begin once I drop this pen

Who has 

Loving relations with the paper (you couldn't relate)

I can only say that this constant inconstancy,

This persistant assessment of the present,

This understood toxicity of your acutely offensive routines,

has left me

not on my own, but

with a challenge:

To be the same, and to never

stop

changing

!

And You.

You are not the pen I cling to for

Dear

life,

Never to acquire a love or aversion

of the woman I am, of the woman I'll be

Until you dare the speed of

light

sound

reaction

Because I just won't stop.

Reviews

[J. Elsie]

Sometimes it is so hard for me to wrap my head around you. There are lines of brilliance in this poem that are on a level I can interpret, but others are either above me or beyond me. The final stanza/section is excellent, especially the final four lines. You say things that haven't been said and that is nearly impossible to do in a world where people just don't shut up. But the ending hardly has the impact it should because I had such trouble understanding the beginning.

I am smart - you know, of reasonable intelligence...but I read it five times and tried to find myself in the moment, but couldn't. I think sometimes we write things that only we can understand because only we were in our head at the time, however, I feel cheated by this. You've given me a glimpse and I'm thirsting for complete comprehension.

You shouldn't have to write an aside note to your poetry to explain what it means. That ruins poetry. But I have met a lot of people who have said they can't stand poetry because it doesn't make any sense, and I think I know what happened. They've come across multiple pieces of poetry with a bunch of beautiful words splattered on a page that mean something, but seem indecipherable. It's like they almost tell the story, but get lost in fragmentation. Do you know what I mean? I'm droning on and on... but I want to help you see where I am coming from.

You are an astounding writer, astonishing...I just fear you might lose readers if you don't find a way to make this one (or others, if they exist) blend. Imagine if someone less interested in poetry or you had read this one first. They might walk away and miss all the splendiferousness that comes out of your nutshell.

If someone else reads this and comments that I am an idiot, then I will stand down.