My pain is a tremble in the Earth.
For thousands of miles it stretches deep,
into the dark core.
It feels hot like passion,
smells like the burnt out bourbon at a blues bar.
The pain itself recoils at the sight of justice and peace,
and all good things---
or worse, sometimes it turns those good things into new wells
of deep, arduous suffering, overflowing they are.
The pain is a shadow,
dripping with the powerlessness of the second dimension,
flat yet lurking constant in
--or as--
the absence of light.
It creeps like slithering serpents sliding around on their bellies,
hissing and undulating and swallowing whole parts of my body.
Deep in the earth it trembles,
and it bursts open in my skin,
a volcano I had declared dormant years ago.
Am I my pain? Or simply its creator,
I wonder, as I watch it consume me.
I realize then that I am ingesting myself whole,
barely tasting the saltiness of my flesh as I crawl down my own throat
--in the core it is no more.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
It's pretty and emotional,, and dramatic. I loved it. I agree that the title didn't totally fit, but your imagery was impeccable, so just mess with the title a little. Or don't. If I were you, I'd probably leave this and write a seperate poem about your pain relating with the planet. Because that is an intriguing idea you could have totally attacked. But I wouldn't want this peice lost. That wasn't much of a critique, I guess. Sorry. If that upsets you, PM me and I'll make up some crap for you too fix. Thanks for the wordage.
I sort of wish you'd connected the Earth image a little more throughout the poem. The first three lines are perfect for this image, but then the Earth is sort of gone from the poem until near the end. If pain is a tremble in the Earth, then how does it interact with the Earth? It seems like a few things are taken for granted, like that the poem is talking about the interior of the Earth, and that pain is a noun. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to take it that pain is an abstract concept being personified or if it's a tangible thing walking around the planet.
Either way, I think it needs to be defined, in some form or another, before it can react to things instead of being the reaction to them. As such, the last stanza doesn't really do a whole lot. Since we don't know which direction pain is going in, the line "Am I my pain?" and the subsequent dialogue concludes without a discussion, just leaving it empty. However, the entire last stanza is a very nice juxtaposition with the snake imagery two stanzas earlier. I just think that this sentiment needs to be felt earlier in the poem so that it can carry through to the end.
Happy writing!
Cool words!
But wait, "powerlessness"? Hihi, it's going to be a new word for me to learn. When I was reading your poem and when I came up with that word, I thought that there was no such word. Then, while writing this review, before I question that word, I checked it up first if MS Word won't underline it red (hehe) and it didn't! So you're right...hmm...lol
So this poem of yours, talks about pain, right? It appeared to be a little gross for me to imagine that "you're being swallowed by your own throat". But I have no problems with that. It's just that it wouldn't be nice for kids though YWS has members 13 years old and above
To be honest, I didn't like the sense of your poem I liked the way you created it
Oh, and I'm sorry. This is Dramatic poetry, right? Now I understand your poem more. Sorry, I forgot. Well, your poem really is dramatic in the way of pain
And sorry for putting a lot of Emoticons, hehe.
Wait, I am the first reviewer?!