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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

Sitting, posture wrong, slumped

eyes drooped, mind a fog

a grey wall

 

the room is hot, fans are blowing

endless spinning, play of shadows

soft breeze

 

I feel

I feel like the grey wall

and the grey wall is around me

glass ceiling

artificial limit

lack of self discipline

 

waiting for what?

probably for this life to be over

whether it be a day or a century away

Posted

Nods

 

Yeah. For the first 40 years of life, I took this kind of feeling seriously and let it overwhelm me.

 

Now I just get up whether I have the energy, ignore the feeling, and do what I would choose if I felt better...

Posted

I really like the glass ceiling reference. It does sound like a poem written for writer's block, but can refer to so much more, one of those poems that fit most people in some situation or another. It's always good when you can write a relative poem and to get others to put their interpretations of what they see in your writing I think is one of the best things about being a poet.

Posted

This poem made me depressed. I guess that's a sign of a good writer, when you can draw out an emotion from someone through your words.

 

This poem really reminded me of the sense, well, like not having anything to live for, or look forward to. I have felt that before.

Posted

I'm interested in how some of you caught the Writer's Block feeling, and a few took it a different way... I wonder if that's because I took my writers block and then realised halfway through writing this, that I felt apathetic in general.

 

This is about as depressing as I can get, I must compensate soon with a neat emotion poem. :)

Posted

This was about writer's block? :blink:

 

To me it felt like an old man sitting in a missionary in the jungle at the end of his life thinking about how it all came to be this way, and if it could've been different if only he.... oh well, interesting and inspiring picture, thank you for sharing :)

Posted

My interpretation of this piece is actually similar to that of Appy... The image evoked in my mind was that of somebody sitting at their 9 to 5 desk job and contemplating how their opportunities in life are severely limited. As I interpreted it, the person's "articial limit" is brought about by his "lack of self discipline," as he hasn't disciplined himself to strive for greater things than a desk job. At the end of the poem, the narrator notes how his life is wasting away as he sits at his desk...

 

It is indeed interesting how good poetry can offer a wide variety of interpretations to the reader... Part of the beauty of poetry is that it can speak to the reader on a personal level. :)

 

On a side note, I really like the form of this poem, as well as the form of most of your poetry in general. The way that the stanzas are structured is intriguing, and it makes the read more enjoyable.

 

Well done. :)

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