Concrete and cement
Stones of blocks
a rigid feature
unchanged through the sands of time
Opacity increasing, an art learnt
from the minute a bait hooked
till the baggage full
life incomplete without destruction
Stashed in the darkness of closet
lingering with lingerie
shaming the sanctity of truth
violating I
the vision does not separate
nor fades the touch
Yet, what life?
hidden, hidden forever
imprisoned in a hell hole
grave dug by thy own
for long kept unknown
to humanity's senses
know not to delve this deep
for the prick was a chateau of novelty
but this shall pass like a storm
pieces on the way out
more determined than before.
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9 Scribbles:
i absolutely bow down to the sheer brilliance of this stuff tsu!
an extremely powerful statement.
as i said, the image could not be more clear.
a strong manipulative figure who uses u too show his power, all the while trying to hide and deal with his inadequacy. awesome.
i repeat, u MUST publish. we need some new names in the OE text books anyways :D
@Crumbs: As I said Bingo!!! and the person is a lil more sinister than just hiding his flaw!!! i couldnt get that in the poem. thanks for the compliment though!!!:)
Beautiful.
Pin pricks are always underestimated...the wounds that most believe will be forgotten quickly but those that leave a scar invisible and deeper than any. A tiny prick...and u can trickle drops of blood for eternity if you don't have just the right cells to create clotting.
first things first... thank you for remembering the prick!!!:D
Second I second Crumbs!!!
Third Prude is just being her bizzare biologist self...
fourthly, the plunge of a nail
the prick of a pin
the gush of blood or the trickle of a stream
warm blood flows
reminiscing the pain of the cold heart and the scalding blow,
storms will burn, Fires will freeze
pain shall be eternal
deny it...
forgetting will re-bleed trickle or the gush.
the frown of chill, the fear of the freezing grin will halt the gush and the trickle...
Fifth, Emily dickinson is partying her protege and the reigning queen
You are turning out to be my muse.. simply superb..every word is so elavated, i mean i can fel it..
brilliantly written.. dont publish it, they will scrutinise every word and take out a thousand meaniings, this one only you know what you actually mean..
hmmm I see some details. The poem is beautiful. Is it me who can read between the lines and perhaps assuming again, or do u think there's an intention behind? In either case Prick was the chateau of novelty.....ummm maybe needs just a little renovation and u never know if it restores it lost glory in the near future.... :) I know I think too much but still...
I read my poem again and i dont think i wrote it to elevate the pin prick part...
A person who manipulates people to hide his flaws. People do not have the time or energy to analyse such people. They are hurt but they move on cause it meant nothing to them. Just a pin prick!
Every prick counts,
Be it with a pin or a mere mock,
The marks make you what you are,
The marks make a sculpture from the rock.
And hence, everyone you meet,
is a sculptor who made the clock.
So you tick around,
whirling in circles, rolling a ball,
Praising some, cursing some,
licking the scars, remembering the call,
But the marks make you what you are,
So donot forget to thank them all.
There are graves everywhere,
for everyone, so there is no shame,
The storm passes, the memories fade,
They dont hurt anymore in the flickering flame,
When the day comes and he calls,
for all the sculptors, it's end game.
I shall be weighing my words the next time we speak... and will put in utmost effort to disguise the complex you have created through this poem in me!!
**salutes** :)
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