(yes, like a red veil across the blue sky)
walls
stifling a fiery spark (I’m suffocating
in here, the walls closing in, and
no one can hear me scream,
but I’m screaming and
screaming,
into wordless music,
ART EVERYWHERE,
and I will stay alive,
will not surrender,
will keep burning bright)
a small solid box sits in the middle of the desert
baking in the sun. a
silent shriek echoes
through the dust shrouding the box,
lost.
1 comment:
This is an interesting poem. Let me know if I'm off here, but I see an artist, perhaps yourself, struggling to be heard while forces (perhaps society at large, perhaps the abundance of artists in the world) try to stop her, but in the end very little of what the artist is trying to say makes it out into the vast world. I need to read it over a few more times, but that's what I get right off the bat. Good stuff. I wonder if you might just continue with the more abstract walls stifling the spark instead of switching to the first person, or shouldn't I be equating the spark to the person? I don't know. It just seems like too much to point to the spark being stifled and then to you being suffocated, and then run with that and then that you "will keep burning bright." It's maybe a bit redundant. I really like the poem and the ideas behind it and pointed images it uses to convey some rather abstract ideas, but I think it could do that a bit better yet.
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