writing challenge 4-17

'Rapture me,' you sang to me,
'Please succumb my soul from this wretched body.'

I apologized, and refrained from doing so.

'Apathy,' you explained,
'Is greater an opiate than religion.'

So you forged a letter to the mirror,
'Love always accompanies self deceit,' you sang.

And you forgot whom you were.

Like this, eternally,
Though not you cared.

Familiar you seemed to me,
If you grin, I’ll remember your name.

Eyes; sitting, waiting, timidly, cursing piously.

The grin came malevolently,
And the wings lacerated the air.

As my feet left the ground - it was I flying I found,
Finding words can be transformed to mirrors - puddles reflecting the sun, moon, and stars.

A Luminary.
But I am what I must be,
For I do not think,

It thinks me.

Comments & reviews · 3
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Matt Bellamy
Comment

I like to wade through the unanswered posts and give some responses to lonely poems. :P

Yes, you're right. I completely forgot about this until now. I did some of the speech marks where they need to be. Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. How did you come across this, just out of curiousity?

User avatar
Matt Bellamy
Review

I love the tone to this, you have a unique poetic voice. The only thing I was unsure of was this:
Love always accompanies self deceit you sang.
This line confused me a little, are you saying those were the exact words someone sang, so they should be in speech marks, and then a comma, or did you mean something else?
As I read it the first time, there were some things I thought needed to be re-worded, tweaked, a few commas here or there, but when I actually came to critique it, I forgot which bits didn't look right the first time, and it all seemed fine. I liked how you seemed to say some things a little backwards, like " Like this, eternally/Though not you cared." The end is great as well, it sounded really good in my head. The structure of the poem was good as well - a single line here, a group of two, now three, and finishing with a single line...Excellent.



In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
— JRR Tolkien