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You left some pictures hanging
On the ramparts of my heart;
That when I sleep, they come alive
Like winged faeries to mar my dreams.

Come and help me fold them up,
Set this memory ablaze;
Your cat eyes and sullen dimples,
The taste of your scarlet lips.

Set them ablaze, the contorted
Memories of your teary eyes
As they tear through the thick tentacles
Of lashes to the oasis of your brows.

Set them ablaze these flimsy flake
Of imaginary smokes,
The vain herald of dead tomorrow
The stillborn of John the Baptist.

You wiped the smile that stained our cheeks
And believe me, I've been strong
Absent presence those pointed breasts,
The arcs and curves that make a God.

Does it not prick your conscience
That fetus we killed with pills?
All the miscarried pregnancies
Of everlasting promises?

And though we saw crystal clear
The end from the beginning,
Where the wars could be lost or won,
We lost the battle with swords in hand.

Now, all left behind is this pit,
Dug by this hateful silence
And this unforgiving tattoos,
And the fragrant memories of your smell.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


without the review first, I say...... I'm going to absolutely read you again my friend. You wrote a perfect free verse power hitteer here. You went for the heart, guts and soul of that hidden but oh so in your face subject.
This is one of the best I have read, not just in here. Anywhere.

Does it not prick your conscience
That fetus we killed with pills?
All the miscarried pregnancies
Of everlasting promises?

This had my eyes open and mouth smiling. Simply right THERE!
Very nice!

Pegasus was a genius,
living within a suit of difference.
He liked what he was,
nodded in respect and
simply flew . . . away.

By: K. Mulroney

" I am who I am, say what I say, do what I do. With no apology."

I'm happy that you enjoyed reading all along


author comment

one of the best yet. but how can one really judge when they are all so powerful, so skillfully written. one day millions will see

Nice, i enjoyed reading work
thanks for sharing

always remember to make a critique of other poems
using the hoe is not madness for nothing

a typical bravado of words and strong stance. Repetitions work well.

I was ok until

Does it not prick your conscience
That fetus we killed with pills?
All the miscarried pregnancies
Of everlasting promises?

I would omit that stanza or start the poem with it and weave the narrative about it. You can't just sneak that kind of detail in, it's too overwhelmingly powerful. Threw me off the track, a grenade at that point of the poem. (also avoid the word "prick" it's a common word for penis, in a derogatory way, maybe not in Nigeria . It is also used with thorns but.... don't allow for any distractions)

I would also consider the semi-colons. Just a period might do.

The title is obscure- an African woman without color is what? White? Albino? Either would require a back up in the poem concerning her skin tone, a very big deal in Africa and I guess just about everywhere else in the world at this time.

But as usual, you have the narrative well orchestrated with images and sound. I comment on your poems as I do in the workshops I host, you are writing on a very high level. All of us need very challenging comments to consider to reach I give you my best.

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

There are apparently very few African people that are not sick or are Albion gotten by totally African parents that are not colored. Some come with Blue or cat eyes and sometimes golden hairs...

I will work on the suggestions too



author comment
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