At the time of my genesis,
I was a half of you, my patriarchial demiurge,
as I was a half of your partner, once my vessel.
We were destined to go seperate ways,
but I was always in sight of you.
The depth of our understanding of one another is as great,
as the gulf, that grows, exponentially, between us.
It's only natural.
Yet at times that pool of ideas threatens to drain,
but, equally, the gulf between our islands may dry up.
My features are akin to yours,
you told me once, your hair was long,
as mine is today.
Yet only half of my features are yours.
It was inevitable-I have a bump on my nose, where's yours?
You were a scientist-that's what I was best at.
Your sanguine fascinations saved lives.
I won't be using my love of nature's elements.
My passions lie elsewhere-the past, which you reviled,
yet have come to love through me-am I your teacher?
We both love animals-dogs, cats, birds.
But you are eager to observe butterflies.
Beautiful to look at, I admit, but what else?
You say they are useful for predicting the changing world.
I prefer ants-miniature Humans. I want to know them.
We debate, and come to seperate conclusions,
but we accept eachother, and come up with a compromise,
which we use as a third, friendlier voice.
You drive, I cycle,
but we both travel on the left.
It's only natural for me to be different from you,
you wouldn't have it any other way, I know.
You appreciate diversity, cultures make the world.
Why do empires such as yours allow their colonies to break away?
To let their outposts outgrow their capital?
You said it yourself,
I will be bigger than you, one day.
And you will hand your role of protector down,
and, perhaps, I will hand my vulnerable role both ways.
Once exactly one half, though unmanifest.
How much now? A third?
Much of me may break away, some day-how much of you will go too?
Perhaps none of you shall leave,
and you will make more of me than ever before?
Or, perhaps, what is left of you in me will be swept away.
And we will be foreign to eachother,
but I will always be grateful, and I will always hope you are happy,
my earlier image.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
125,018 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
I LOVED this. It was so dramatic, so powerful and poignant. I like the imagery and the symbolism and the fact that it was a bit arcane--it made it more interesting to read when you don't know straight off what the poem was going to be about.
That said, I must quibble before I get into an in-depth critique. I'm sorry. Capitalization of every line of a poem is so important! Form makes all the difference, it really does. Also, check spelling. It just makes poems easier and smoother to read, even if it is just a first draft. It stops the reader getting distracted by errors and makes the meaning and message of the poem clearer.
I think the imagery is beautiful and I love the subtle ways the speaker conveys that he or she is different from his or her parent (father?) but I think the writing could be a bit clearer. Make the comparisons more concise; I feel like the commas are a bit overused and just omitting a few could make it smoother.
Also, the meaning of the poem is a bit vague. Is the speaker grateful for differences he/she finds when comparing him/herself to his/her parent? Or is the speaker deploring the differences? Or is she/he a bit hostile? I can't be sure.
All in all, this is a wonderful piece of literature. You've obviously got talent. I want to read more!