Monday, November 9, 2009

Poem "Pale Black" 2003

Pale Black

Give me back my candy
Stranger, lose what you call brave.
Those bottles at sea
A haunted prophecy
They can make me drunk just as well.
It's the smell, that changes color
So we go to Back straight, feet flat
The incoherent and resonating
they mention,
"let it rise past your knees.
Past your wrists"
so you are shackled.
Another held captive.
Another at attention.

1 comment:

  1. I love your creative use of imagery! You were able to successfully manage the literary tasks that I believe you set out to perform. I feel as though I am almost placed in the shackles myself! The poem does not play on my personal and ideological background, this is the trouble that many poets face while writing their poems. I might have developed an altered meaning of the poem than you intended, however many readers find alternate meanings from that in which the poet had in mind. Overall, well done and I look forward to reading your next (English) creation.

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