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I am a Book and Its Writer

Too many errors, corrections,
crossed out memories,
facts forced into forgiveness.

Some parts of life
I'd rather live without.
What if I take these pages out?

Some people think,
I would be incomplete,
I'd better underline what's right.

I'd better frame the things
I have perfected dearly
through many trials.

Yes, people talk,
but I don't have to listen.
I grab and tear book to pieces.

New pages ready for fresh start,
but very little ink is left
in me to write.

Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 

Comments

it's just me but, this appears to be a bit choppy. Sometimes trying to write with brevity, the lines become just a little unconnected. This is my take on your write:

1]. forcing them into forgiving facts
2]. [I'd] rather live without
3]. [I'd] better underline what's right
4]. [I'd] better frame the things
5]. [I'll] grab and tear the book to pieces
6]. but very little ink [is] left

A nice piece about wanting people to know what you are all about or are trying to explain.

~ Geezer.
.

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Thank you for your suggestions, dear Geezer.
The poem is about how tempting sometimes to try to have a fresh start and how we are what we are. And after all it is up to us to decide to keep all the pages or tear them away and how sometimes it is hard to stick to the plan whatever it is.
Lol. I guess it is really not clear what I wrote.
I thought it is a very simple idea.

IRiz

author comment

With all due respect. NOT choppy , but staccato, modern, no frills, almost experimental To me well said and confessional

"refined out of existence
i have nothing to say
so let me keep on saying it"

Apparently we share the need to write irrespective of feeling some urgency about content
Writing has a creative sensuality It has a feeling of glide or getting somewhere , making headway, perhaps a game of word pinball bringing about a lucidity that sweetens time.

But as to the issue of the poem why not ask yourself what gnaws at you? What you hate or want and cant have, what's missing. If there is nothing, well don't invent a fiction unless you want to but maybe there is something dangerous, revealing, untoward, Maybe you should rip off the vail of the subconscious as a prompt i.e. let the dark side do the writing as only optimism remains a medium for tedium

Best Z

Hi dear Z,
I am glad you see my lines from my perspective.
When every word matters the write comes out telegraphic.
I am simple, no dark sides, maybe a few burned ones but altogether a happy whole creature.
The poem is a reflection on how we design ourselves, about a choice we make between being true to our old self and the desire to change, to negate, or to build upon. Often even if we make a right choice we find ourselves out of steam to stick to it. All these thoughts are there in the poem.
The question is whether I delivered it.

I am drifting away from English language, please, help me to stay grammatically correct.

Sincerely yours, I.

IRiz

author comment

Well I have no standing as a grammarian, no doubt to home spun myself
What I hear from you is perhaps a feeling of diffusion, if I am hearing you right?
Its probably temporary like Moon conjunct Neptune in Pisces on its way to some other configuration more...... !demonstrative!

I am not sure what you mean, but i can relate to what you said about writing earlier.
It does create a world in the world and sometimes when your characters write there is one more world there. It works in prose better. That is what i write this days.

IRiz

author comment

having read the comments and your responses to them it is clear from where this poem took roots...i shall soon be serving something similar but in a different plate...
.........................................................................................................

raj (sublime_ocean)

thanks for your comment, Raj! I am looking forward to hearing from you

IRiz

author comment

I've posted it moments back IRiz
.............................................................

raj (sublime_ocean)

years ago when poets wrote okay composed
took time to gloss thru the then dictionary
then left a plate of food for thought
what did the poet mean
was he hungry
was he offering
was he wanting to partake.....
and so on
no one had any access to that POET
he too was happy
he could just waffle
some would clap
many would love to slap

Today in the arena of instant Internet
you have generated so many comments
Shakespeare and Frost and even Maya Angelou
would come back to say
thank you
we said what we wanted to
now about in circles you may go
and
your noses blow
as from your soiled veins
stenching ink does flow
here now newer seeds of wisdom
I sow

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