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The sketch curls
into the bone white,
and vines gather.
A tree limb contorts
to where a moon will rise--
a heavy graphite sky
dripping into shadowed

The sun is my memory,
has its light upon everything
as it spools the green,
and a sprig leaves a snag of it
against an oblique cloud.

The incline of the park
chases upward--
a steady stream of strollers
marching through a ray
as an arc gathers enough
light around you;

It is the flaws
and marks that fade first
as you meld with other faces.

And then there is just
the outline of you
tilting over the water
drawing a bowing moon
between houses
until you fold
into the darkness of dark

the single remaining patch
of brightness remaining
with you
on the other side.
. . .
Whatever you were thinking while writing, its certainly something interesting to think about - its not exactly spooky, but its food for thought.

The poetic structure is unique - this is a poem to be read at heart, rather than simply picked up and read aloud to an audience; for that to happen, they have to understand the subliminal essence of this poem.

In a way, they have to be like crumbled paper - they have to represent themselves as the ilk which is incapable of anything outwardly distorted, but rather far too introverted to be put aside as mere fodder for compensation...
What do you think?
The Artist thought this was FAIR
1 out of 1 deviants thought this was fair.

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

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imcnaughton Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2012
I'm afraid I'm not so good at critiquing...but this is very nice! I think you have great talent! :D
Moonbeams Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2012
Thank you so much. And I'm glad you liked it.
imcnaughton Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2012
that's my pleasure! I was just wondering, do you want to play a game? you pick a theme, and we both write poems around it? of course, only if you want to, but might be fun!
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Submitted on
November 15, 2012
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