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by fortis

I feel creeping things in my gut
when I sense you there.
Wrinkles radiate from your eyes,
cross-hatch your hands.

Everything no more: face a fallen walnut;
voice a dried pond, no longer fair;
spine gives no strength to rise;
delicate rings become thick bands.

You fall. So mottles skin around a cut.
Here's the ambulance; sirens blare.
Away you go when off it flies
across asphalt and forest fire sands.

You think yourself a fallen woman, a slut.
In your prime, back when you would dare
to be a thing the world despised.
Years of tears and bitter one night stands.

A trek to rotted Eden, your memory rut.
You struggle, made aware
that it wears a new disguise.
Eden has changed and

there's a devil in your garden. But
you've become the snake with longing stare
that has to be kept out, Oh King of Lies,
locked from passed-on lands.

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601 Reviews

Points: 4978
Reviews: 601

Sat Apr 14, 2018 2:41 pm
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Radrook wrote a review...

Radrook here a once again to offer some suggestions.
Apologies if i offend. It isn’t my intention.
Please feel full free to cast aside all things you deem not helpful.
But if you do be sure its true by being extra careful.

That having been said:

Thanks for sharing this poem concerning a prostitute who is no longer physically attractive but has succumbed to the ravages of aging ass we all do if we happen to live long enough. The speaker seems repulsed but it doesn't seem to be merely based on physical appearance, I got the impression that he or she is either gloating reprimanding the old woman or both because of her chosen lifestyle when she had been young. The places she considered as paradise were nothing more than cesspools of sin. Now, she is told, she can no longer participate in those places but resembles the snake of the Biblical Eden who can only look on in envy as others enjoy themselves. She has become the personification of the lie that her lifestyle was ideal.

I found the poem very well written and the imagery was very vivid. The tone held true except for one slight moment in my case. But that might just be because of my unusual tendency to see humor in mostly everything-even the personally disastrous. so feel free to ignore it.


Careful with the sentence fragments.

In your prime, back when you would dare
to be a thing the world despised. [sentence fragment] ... fragments/

Away you go when off it flies.... [This introduces comedy and weakens the somber mood.]

So mottles skin around a cut. [skin mottles around....]

Looking forward to reading more of your work.

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50 Reviews

Points: 301
Reviews: 50

Sat Apr 14, 2018 2:05 pm
LittleLee wrote a review...

Hey there, all you administrators! Here comes the craziest wolf on Earth to review your work!

I truly love the various themes of this amazing poem, and i love the topic. At least, what i think it is, because this could be about so many things, right?
I especially like this poem because i wrote a poem similar to this, only about love.

I don't know which one of you wrote the last stanza, but whoever it was, OH MY GOD IT IS A FEAST FOR MY EYES TO SEE THOSE WORDS AAAAAAH I CAN'T DESCRIBE IT!

*Is jealous

Perhaps a slight warning on language? I mean, there is only one word, but still....

I really don't have a single negative thing to say, this is just one of the best poems I've read!
Happy writing to all of you!

fortis says...

"I don't know which one of you wrote the last stanza" am I more than one person now?

LittleLee says...

Apparently you are.

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15 Reviews

Points: 694
Reviews: 15

Fri Apr 13, 2018 5:47 pm
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adelekm wrote a review...

Hi! Adele here :)

I want to start by saying that your writing is seriously gorgeous. I love this poem. That said, the first half feels a bit ambiguous - Why does the sight of this woman make you "feel creeping things in [your] gut? Is the ambulance is real or metaphorical, and if it is real, exactly why has it come? (I do recognize the ambiguity may be your purposeful stylistic preference, so if that's the case, of course ignore everything I've just said.)

Still, I love your use of second person, and your transition from first to second person. The imagery also works very well, particularly the wrinkles cross-hatching hands and the "face a fallen walnut / voice a dried pond".

Great work, and I look forward to reading more!

'They are afraid of nothing,' I grumbled, watching their approach through the window. 'Together, they would brave Satan and all his legions.'
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights