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Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis

In silent zeal an ego chases images of self
round about the center of its Id
a rodent knocking knick knacks from an overcrowded shelf
where relics of deceit are often hid

reflections in a mirror are but visions to the blind
peering into realms of inner space
hoping that some miracle of faith will help them find
long forgotten memories of face

the clown observes its own demise while capering in fear
across the center ring of circus fate
clearly underestimating shadows that appear
as nothing more than jugglers running late

a paragon of goodness tumbles into webs of sin
while preaching to a choir full of mimes
stubbornly believing virtue comes from deep within
and blatantly ignoring holy rhymes

in silent zeal an ego catches glimpses of the truth
as its Id lies hiding in suspense
a rodent praying for a hole, no matter how uncouth
where it can lie preparing its defense

the mirror’s visions fade to black, the clown accepts a death
that paragons of goodness fail to see
as all the casts of passion plays await with baited breath
the dying of their savior on the tree

C. Lon R. Bruso

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Editing stage: 

Comments

we can ignore, when it pleases us! Second sight is not always a good thing! ~ Gee

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

For the read, the review, and most of all for recuing me from the undiscovered list!

author comment

As usual a great write coiled inside where the struggle gets to grip with the world that has become old as a stale loaf of bread, things crumble yet we have to live.
Look outside and watch the simple things you have given the world, a string of words a talk to a stranger and their memory of what you said and thought goes on for ever so that we can re build our frame around a true Spirit.
Whoops someone tapped the keys while I watched.
Loved the write, Talk to you later, Yours Ian..

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

A good, honest review, as is your won, and some generous comments thrown in also. Your time and effort is greatly appreciated as always!

author comment

those juicy rats...knocking over pics..magazines...your jungle hole!
ha ha...and in the inner city.....here they are winter summer spring..
always the ever present pet...

Great Poem Sir!
thank U
mr esker!

I am always honored by a review from you and it is most appreciated!

author comment

I spend copious amounts of energy in workshop and critique telling people that punctuation matters. Punctuation is a tool of the poet... use all the tools you have. Punctuation clarifies as its absence usually causes confusion.

And then you write another poem and all my efforts are wasted.

Beautiful poem... and it needed no punctuation.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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and I'm sorry if I screwed up punctuation wise. I thought I used it where it seemed necessay, but maybe I didn't. anyways, I appreciate the read and the review!

author comment

Flows off the tongue, giving the mind a feast of imagery. Great work, Regards Roscoe...

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

I'm happy you enjoyed the read and thankful for your kind words!

author comment

You misunderstand. You used no punctuation and the poem read beautifully. You proved punctuation was/is unnecessary (but hard to do... I mean not for you of course, but for the rest of us mortals... well).

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

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