More Than Dust

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Can a heart be more
Than the shell that others see?
Can a spirit transcend
Its own mortality?

Is a mind worth less
Than the face it hides behind?
Can a soul be more than
the dust it’s trapped inside?
"Every-thing's broken there's no way around
It's so hard to smile
When you bring me down."
-
Me.




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A good use of questions, the poem makes the reader think. I can't really offer much constructive criticism. I like the rhyme of "see", "mortality" and "behind", "inside" - it is very effective.

I think that you could probably expand on this poem and offer answers as well as questions to the reader. Making someone think is all well and good, but if you offered some sort of opinion on the questions you asked I believe the reader would be forced to think even more.
Sing we for joy and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having. -- Ezra Pound

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Really nice poem, short sweet and good questions asked.I think they are all question you need to answer yourself in yours life before you can find the will to express or live a full life.
I hope you have found positive answers to the questions in this poem. I know i have and i hope the same if you have not answered them yet.

Great imagery and glad it was not dragged out over more and more lines, straight to the point.
Good work and ill be sure to keep an eye out for future posts.




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Good poem. Only thing is...it seems as though there should be more to it. Besides that it is good.




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I agree with Nyconz421 the poem should be longer but other than that this poem is on of your best.




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Can a heart be more
Than the shell that others see?
Can a spirit transcend
Its own mortality?

Is a mind worth less
Than the face it hides behind?
Can a soul be more than
the dust it’s trapped inside?


Okay I liked this poem short and sweet here's my suggestion.

Can a heart be more...
Than the shell that others see?
Can a spirit transcend...
It's own mortality?

Is a mind worth less...
Than the face it hides behind?
Can a soul be more than...
the dust it’s trapped inside?
We get off to the rhythm of the trigger and destruction. Fallujah to New Orleans with impunity to kill. We are the hidden fist of the free market.
We are the ink, we are the quill.
[The Ink And The Quill (Be Afraid) - Anti-Flag]



The adjective should reinvent the noun.
— Leslie Norris