bryndavis

I am in a dark place.
It could be a cave
but is likely just my bedroom
and this is likely just night.

There is a summer air, warm,
like the blazoned heat of an exhaust.
I remember winter,
and can see its skin in the creeping corner-room damp.
But it is masked in this sweat,
partial under a whitewash graft.

I miss winter.

Cerulean skies fill my window –
this could be Turkey again.
This could be that night,
and a creak in the wall suggests
you could be in bathroom.

Against the blue like a cut and paste shadow
a spider fights with his own web.
He could be under this roof,
or under the clouds,
a bait on a thread to the gods.

All the same, he shouldn’t struggle –
he will lose himself in his knotting,
just the white star of his deeds.

A police car siren plays its tremolo strings,
and for a second the night retreats.
I see a helpless man,
I feel the blue of his aid like a tongue on my chest.
This is not Turkey. I am alone.
Even the spider is gone.

I am in a dark place.
This could be just a moment,
but is likely just the end.

SoNickSays...

A very effective poem, bryndavis.

The idea is different; creative. The whole piece flows nicely, and leads on well to the next stanza, and the writing style is very good to read.

However, some parts are unnecessary and could be lost. I see how it adds to the effect of the last stanza, but it seems to drag out just a little bit. I'm not talking about a huge cut here, but just a couple lines (for your consideration).

Great job with this!

Nick

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cgriff128

I agree with SoNicksays, I like how the story unfolded stanza by stanza, but you seemed to loose my attention in some parts. If it were a little less wordy I think it would be really good. I'm not saying it should be more direct, that would mess up the story like flow to it, maybe just chop out a few words that you might find a bit unnecessary.

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