I wrote this poem today on the bus on the way to work. I'm not sure what it means but I like the sound of it. I'd really like some analysis on it, like, when you read it what's your first thought? What do you think it's about? Here goes: Untitled 26 April '05 The days grow longer, the sky the purple darkness of a bruise. Life can quite simply be put down to a drugged out oblivian. We take on the world screaming. Darkness scuttles in the corners like a spider, nestled safe inside its web. The acid under our tongues strips the bark off trees. Fog hangs over our heads like the hangmans noose. It throttles us, the garrot slowly twisting into place. The days grow longer as we feel our breathes getting shorter. The sky fades to an ugly mix of yellows and greens. We wait. ~Moro
thanks. I think it's about growing old and waiting to die but feeling at peace with it. I keep rereading it trying to decide what it's about... maybe it doesn't really have to be about anything. The words are enough.
Very nice. But I got a slightly darker message out of it... Life (society?) is on a lazy decay into numbness, delirium, apathy. It's self-inflicted, like a drug overdose, with the same results. In the end, it doesn't have the strength to pull out, so it waits for the inevitable. Yeah, I'm having a real crap day.
I like it, even though there are some points where you go into this cliche depressed teen mode. By that, I mean using expressions like "Darkness scuttles in the corners" and "put down to a drugged out oblivian". Actually, those are the only two lines I don't like. The rest is very good.
How do you not know the meaning to your own poem? Anyways, for me, I'm getting this sense of frustration in the world, a desperation. You're depressed and unhappy, but go through life "screaming," very agressively, desperately trying to find something secure and strong and permanent to hold on to as everything else slips away. But ultimately you keep failing and are doomed to always wait for the end of every good thing you find.
Oh, simple. A poem, a good one at least, represents a feeling. Very often, it is the feeling felt by the poet while writing it. Have you never experienced a time when you didn't know exactly what you were feeling, or maybe didn't even have the slightest clue? If you wrote an emotional poem then, you wouldn't know its meaning.
wow, I deffinately like some of these answers. Syntax, i think you're right about those two lines, they are cliched aren't they? I never notice this stuff unless someone points it out to me. i guess I'll have to do some editing. ~Moro
btw... I just wanted to thank you for also being an active participant in this forum too. I hate when people expect responses or remark they want responses when they haven't bothered to take any time to respond to anyone elses works in here. Just wanted to let you know that it was appreciated. Namaste~* Still think it sounds like yah need a break to go play/dance hard, to lighten yer heart. hehe
