I sewed up the hem
With intricate fingers
Weaving together fabric.
My thumb-
Callous and hard
From where my ambitions
Have made their marks.
Long ago, my skin had stopped bleeding
When pierced
By the past.
I run my hands
Gently across the thread,
They burn, from inflammation.
I watch the colours unveil
Splayed across my bed.
Soon enough,
My resolution complete.
My skin,
Parched from thirst and rest.
I tie a knot,
Firm and rigid
And I indeed
Had finally made it there
Followed my dreams.
The needle can no longer stain
With empty holes
For I have filled them with cotton
No longer will sharp pointed hours
Guard me from slumber
And my ideas forgotten
I look back at my work,
What a marvel I see
Beauty
Made from everything that I had found
Within the parts of me
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AMAZING!!! Wow I loved how this poem stuck with you almost like it was sewn with a needle (haha get what I did there). But seriously I loved this poem and you have such a great talent of having the reader connect with your feelings! If I showed this poem to hundreds of people they could find a way that it related in a trial or tribulation in their life! Keep writing because you are amazing!
Thank you so much, that's so kind of you
Hello! I absolutely loved this poem. Such beautiful imagery. You did a marvelous job of connecting this action of sewing to something deeper within the soul, showing how it's not only a simple act, but rather a portrayal of oneself. As a writer, I can relate to this: this feeling of putting parts of yourself into your work.
One question though:
The word inflammation is the process of someone's body fighting off bacteria/infection and is seen with reddening or swelling of the skin. In this instance, its use didn't make much sense to me, as I was imagining fingers worn from use, not prone to infection. What did you mean by this word here?
Wonderful writing, though!!!
mordax
Thank you for your review, that's exactly what I was going for in this poem, and I'm glad that you too can relate to that. I might have used the wrong word there- when I said about inflammation I meant to purely portray what it feels like when you run your hands against rope or material. I'll make sure to edit that. Thank you so much
Hi,
I loved this poem - creatives everywhere, especially artists and sewers will be able to relate to this feeling, I even do as a writer! Your imagery really logs each stage of perseverance that we creatives have at each stage of our projects - you feel as though you are the speaker experiencing each one of these emotions so well done! It's a fantastic poem - you have clearly put a lot of thought into crafting this alongside with your immersive writing style. You are a very talented writer, so good work and keep writing
Thank you for your review