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Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blank

by aooborromeo


Some say that blanks are infinite.
Others see a mere broken line.
The untitled-ness is peace.


I was a ___.
A simple line,
a small something
that could be anything.


The __ and the empty space,
they belong together.
They were dancing,
but they had no words.


Is there beauty to something that has no meaning?
Is a sentence the only way?


Small lead marks
the thin sheet of snowy color.
Dust particles come together
like a man and woman's bodies.
I traced the dots,
but they formed no picture.


I know people who have never written.
They too, try to form the waking worlds.
The awakening sketches.


When there were words, it meant nothing.
The words smiled,
they sought the envy of ____s.


I see a ___.
I long to touch it;
feel my fingertips graze the textures.


The ___ shifted slowly on the paper,
longing for the kiss of the ink.
Fear overtook.
No purpose, no worries.
Only feeling.
The feeling can be good.


The ____ is changing.
Is someone causing chaos?


_____s detest change.
Dramatic fixings of complex things,
don't settle well with the untamed.


Untouched and unloved.
The paper remained pure.
Is that what the misread are?


There was solitude and stoicism.
It was a clear sky.
The clouds drew a ____.

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26 Reviews

Points: 1384
Reviews: 26

Mon May 10, 2021 11:27 pm
legendarycomputerpoetry wrote a review...


I like how this poem's stanzas were numbered. I am not sure why I like it so much, maybe because the organization is satisfying? Anyways!

The concept was rather abstract - the concept of being and nothingness. It's something that's interested me, and I read this with excitement with each part. (Specifically, IX - X). The poem seems to have a theme up to XIII; the stanza felt rather sudden and disconnected from the rest of the poem.

I liked the language you employed, too, like "untitled-ness." The way you formed the sentences allowed for my mind to paint a picture of nothing. After reading, I still have many questions about myself and what it means to be or know a ___. Great job!


aooborromeo says...

Thank you!

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1271 Reviews

Points: 38224
Reviews: 1271

Sun May 09, 2021 1:29 am
niteowl wrote a review...

Hi there! Niteowl here for a quick review.

Ha! I actually had this same assignment a million years ago. I went with a Post-It note. Still one of my faves. Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Post-It Note

Overall, I really like this. It's taking a pretty absurd prompt and twisting it into some actually interesting observations. My favorites are V, VI, and XII. I also like the first one, but it feels more like an ending than a beginning. II seems like a stronger first stanza.

I'm not sure the personification in VII and IX are working for me, but I'm also lacking suggestions for how to improve it. "Longing for the kiss of the ink" feels a little overwrought, but then again so does stanza V and I like it more there. XI is also falling a little flat-it's at once difficult to say and hard to comprehend compared to the rest of the poem.

The final stanza is out of left field, and I didn't like it at first, but after several re-reads, it's growing on me. I think "There was solitude and stoicism" is what's throwing me-it's rather tell-y and doesn't seem to fit here. I feel like there could be a bit of scene-setting here instead--maybe our narrator is sick of blank lines so they go outside only to realize the clouds are also literally drawing a blank.

Overall, this was a fun read and interesting take on the assignment. Keep writing! :D

aooborromeo says...

Yeah I started and completed it thirty minutes before class. Decided to be cheeky. It was the class favorite. I posted it because I wrote it three years ago. It's not my best work. I wanted to seek advice on how to revise it and improve it. My style and skill has improved and changed in the last three years. I wanted to rewrite it. But I have no idea which one's I should keep and what should be revised. Thanks for the advice. I still have trouble brainstorming how to fix it... :(

"You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a friend."
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein