Smothered with Splinters

by Krupp

Published February 7, 2009

Another poem written thanks to a great song: http://www.last.fm/music/Isis%2B%2526%2 ... _/Low+Tide

I can take these moments and shove them deep
down into my chest, where they belong.
Feeling a little hemmed in; no space where I dwell now.
Wooden box, so dark and cold, furnished for my demise.
Prepared to go, I’m folded into myself.
The nails are in, and there’s no turning back.
All I see is an oak wall, staring back at me,
centimeters from my nose.
I must admit my weakness, my shame,
my fear of having gone the distance,
it may not be enough for where I’m headed now.
Gained so little, lost so much,
when is there ever a catch in luck
for a wretch like me? I think none exists.
Man is the pinnacle of man, and nothing else.
Take me down, carry me up,
help me find where my cell is.
If you can do that, I will testify
give off all the evidence and the reasons
as to why I said thus, or offended others,
or brought shame to God for all of his love.
I have seen where this monster sleeps,
and I hear it calling, my name pronounced perfectly.
And to the darkness, I surrender all, leaving nothing left.

Comments & reviews · 3
dreaming.inTROY wrote a review Review · Feb 10, 2009

Hey! I really this poem, I was absorbed pretty much the moment I started reading it. The style was truly captivating and everything flowed smoothly.
There was, however, one bit I didn't really think flowed all that well, it's just my opinion though;

give off all the evidence


Other than that I liked it immensely.

-Avery=]

Angel of Death wrote a review Review · Feb 8, 2009

Hey Krupp!

I'm really liking your style. I might have said this before, but tis is true. You have this really meaningful and powerful way of writing and thank God that you haven't resolved to rhyming because lately I'm been seeing a lot of people screw up a good poem with rhymes.

I do however think your beginning is a little bunchy.

I can take these moments and shove them deep
down into my chest, where they belong.
Feeling a little hemmed in; no space where I dwell now.
Wooden box, so dark and cold, furnished for my demise.


These lines don't seem to go together. It just feels like you're missing a line in between 'down into my chest...' and 'Feeling a little..."

Other than that, Good job and keep writing!

~Angel



What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.
— J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye