Poem

It wasn't me!

Lo. First thing I've written in quite a few months. It's fairly rough yet, there are a few sections in need of quite some polishing, but I'll get around to that in time. I got the idea for the final two lines first, then built the rest around that. Any comments and criticisms are appreciated, I'll see what I can take on board. Anyway, as below:

They built it high,
Those men of strong virtue;
Founded it in law,
Crystalline, cut-diamond pure.
Walls they raised of empathy,
Towering, binding all inside
Like honey in a comb.
Their citadel they roofed
With what they called understanding,
Being oversight, lofty and self-secure.
But I called for windows,
To be but shouted down
By frightened dullard sheep-rabble,
And I left that glasshouse utopia
Lest someone throw stones.

It wasn't me!

Any thoughts?

Skadi

An interesting poem, full of imagery and also underlying meaning.

One contrast which has me puzzled though, why would you call for windows if the tower was made of glass? Because I assumed that this tower was built with stones and so was surprised that you called it a glasshouse utopia. But perhaps i have just understood the poem wrong.

It wasn't me!

Glasshouse utopia is a metaphor for the tenuous nature of that perfection. Windows are what would make it bearable and release tension. I had it written before I analysed it myself, but that's what I'm getting from it personally.

da Poet

Tell me what you think??


“Our Father”

As the reservoir drains from inside him what more can she do?
You coerced them there to a bright light and now the darkness that ensues.
She’s mentally disembowelled and homeless in his skin
But no one cares for their new soul, whether it ends or begins.

Why would anyone care for him? He’s just a male in all shades of blue.
A headless, miniature Minotaur without a clue.
You bring them to this prison of mirrors,
Now they cherish our everyday horrors.

She believed you were Our Father our only father,
Now she plummets away from heaven so much further.
You have blood on your hands of all Your children,
How can anyone love you and your band of merry men?

Insect Overlord

da Poet wrote: »

Tell me what you think??

I think you probably should have started your own thread... Also, was the poem inspired by the crazy revelation in Austria this week?

Either way, the imagery of the OP's poem is far more striking.