Post by dommi22 on Feb 6, 2008 18:31:45 GMT -5
So this is a poem I just finished the SIXTH draft of. However, I don't like some of the things Lorilee made me do to it, I only complied b/c I had an F at the time...SO I'm putting MY VERSION and I'm totally open to any suggestions, I would love to get someone's imput other than Lorilee's. (I did stick with a lot of her suggestions but some were really...well...stupid. I mean after she was done with it, the first sentence in the second stanza made NO sense at all...?)
Btw, I didn't write the first line, I got it from a "first line auction" so Emily Goodburn actually wrote it, then I used it for inspiration for the rest of the poem.
Inklines
I want to dip my hands in ink,
press my identity into these walls.
My white dress hangs loose
from my body a I kneel in the alley.
The moon illuminates my canvas -
crumbling brick wall
dusted with the filth of the city.
Black ink flows from bucket
to fingertip to stone
as I form images with words
to illustrate my loneliness.
At the bottom I sign with a handprint.
My name has been devoured by this city,
by an endless succession of blank nights.
It is nearly dawn. As sun scatters
the shadows of the night,
I lie on the bare earth beneath my poem,
my body curled into itself.
My ink-stained fingers close
around an oval locket
as sleep weighs like gold on my eyelids.
Dust swirls in the breeze and settles
on the fresh ink, fading the letters.
Sleep carries me through the daylight,
my presence hidden by the narrow alley.
I rise with the moon, and wander
barefoot in search of solitary walls.
Btw, I didn't write the first line, I got it from a "first line auction" so Emily Goodburn actually wrote it, then I used it for inspiration for the rest of the poem.
Inklines
I want to dip my hands in ink,
press my identity into these walls.
My white dress hangs loose
from my body a I kneel in the alley.
The moon illuminates my canvas -
crumbling brick wall
dusted with the filth of the city.
Black ink flows from bucket
to fingertip to stone
as I form images with words
to illustrate my loneliness.
At the bottom I sign with a handprint.
My name has been devoured by this city,
by an endless succession of blank nights.
It is nearly dawn. As sun scatters
the shadows of the night,
I lie on the bare earth beneath my poem,
my body curled into itself.
My ink-stained fingers close
around an oval locket
as sleep weighs like gold on my eyelids.
Dust swirls in the breeze and settles
on the fresh ink, fading the letters.
Sleep carries me through the daylight,
my presence hidden by the narrow alley.
I rise with the moon, and wander
barefoot in search of solitary walls.
