Guest Phoenix Posted November 5, 2005 Report Posted November 5, 2005 an empty stone inside of me a hole void of matter, yet ringed around by... beings. jowls waggle as they natter, hairy chins shaking, prodding and poking the emptiness, dissecting, dis- and re-assembling the surrounding space. done in their manipulations, they look up at me, expectantly, from the blackness of the pit. wait for me to assess their handiwork, offer praise, or blame to make subtle adjustments of my own and file the result with the rest of the rocks of their nest. i sit motionless eyes cast away from them head ringed with buzzing thoughts flitting in and out alighting briefly on an earlobe or nostril then flying away again to meet up with others, form squadrons, blast through my brain ear to ear in teams from all sides i am alone in my own lonliness building from experience heavier and heavier barriers, less capable of falling more painful to rebuild after an opening such as this. a mountain of stones sit in my stomach. some chipped, broken. Pile upon pile of weighty granite. i forget the origins of most. this would not be the first attempt to banish them decipher them reveal all to the naked eye. Attempts thus far have failed. they have a life of their own now. at times i seem almost light at others stone comes crashing down, no warning, to block my path once again. The birds cackle their derision. they've been here before. witnessed my futile attempts to justify their existence, coax them away from their toys. they are as firm in their resolve as i in mine a stalemate. between myself and myself. (a month goes by. or more time here has no meaning. i am quite comfortable in this facade. to the outside eye implacable, impermeable a glittering, comfortable, confident centerpiece.) but the contusion stays. deep, deep within me. far deeper than doctors can probe the birds watch. i sit. until i realize that, quite unnoticed the object of our combined attentions has dissolved melted, and resolved itself unto a dew. sprinkling my insides with wetness and warmth. by my refusal to justify their exsitance the buzzing insects swatting around my head have tired. or died. i know not which, nor care. my insides are fresh. washed clean. the birds grumble, dissatisfied, and huddle over their reduced hoard with greater caution what use would there be for them without it? and again i sit smiling now, minutely appreciating the warmth against my sides. picking up my load again to find it lighter no longer overwhelming. did it shrink to me or i grow? stop fighting they say. but there are many ways of fighting active and inactive. i know them all. and one day there will be no need for any of them. a weight shifts, lifts, settles. almost as if in the lower strata something has shifted.
Wyvern Posted November 6, 2005 Report Posted November 6, 2005 A very interesting poem, Pheonix. I really liked the word choice and phrasing in it, particularly in the third line of the first stanza, which I found very striking and original. The metaphor of stones as weight and hardship in the narrator's conscious was also incorporated very well throughout the poem, and was brought to life through a number of striking images and evocative details. I found the notion of emptiness in the poem particularly intriguing, since the stones seem to fill a void of sorts despite being regarded in a very negative light. This piece almost read like two poems to me, and I feel that it may be spreading itself a little thin by covering too much ground. The experiences of the stones' weight and the stones' disintegration could both make powerful poems in themselves, but when placed together they seem to strike me as less urgent and evocative. If relaying the experience of the change was your central intention with the piece, you might want to consider compressing the poem and focussing more on the change itself rather than on the experience of the weight and the experience of the weight's disintegration. The feelings of each may still be included, of course, just in a more concise and compressed format. Also, the metaphor of the birds circling the narrator struck me as less interesting than that of the rocks, and I found the pairing of "alone" and "lonliness" in the fourth stanza rather weak (after all, if the words are paired together, they hardly convey lonliness!) Very good poem, Pheonix. Many interesting concepts and details... I look forward to reading more of your stuff.
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