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THE RUNNING WATER WHOSE CURRENT IS MADE OF MEN

THE RUNNING WATER WHOSE CURRENT IS MADE OF MEN

Once alone, I sat at a river bank,
Whose current was a flood of diverse men,
In jackets and shoes and of colored shirts,
Whose pictures had all sorts of fashion made.

This market square paint pictures in my head,
Of buyers and sellers that argue as good friends.
Of a bridge that bows like a bow set to strike,
While moving vehicles compete in a priceless race.

This market square paint pictures in my head,
Of a mad man with knotty dreads in tattered clothes.
Of pigeons flying by and temporarily perch,
Of beggars lame and blind, and young and old.

This market square paint pictures in my head
As I sit picking clean and dirty thoughts apart,
Like a toothpick with arrogant remnant meat,
Of men with mask on their face like masquerades.

This market square paint pictures in my head
Of enemies holding hands and hug and smile,
Of coy lovers behind the recess of unsaid words,
Of pregnant women who lost their husbands to the war.

This market square paint pictures in my head,
Of men with crowns of halo that's far from Hallow
Of faces too serious for a joking life
Of anxiety, depression, and of excitement.

Once alone, I sat at a river bank
Watching the waves of men flow down a market square
With a feeling this movie can't vivid' show;
Of the running water whose current is made of men.

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?
Last few words: 
It's a philosophical representation of a literal market setting in comparison to real life. Read between lines to capture the allegory and symbols.
Editing stage: 

Comments

This is outstanding work may I suggest you ad an s or ed after paint.I very much enjoy reading your work

what a great opening metaphor for a poem. I think you're going off in too many directions, trying to say too much with it...i'll think some about it and get back.

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

I do like the poem and the content is
so very interesting I had to comment.

A few suggestions if you don't mind;
Your title, even before reading the poem
I knew you'd given too much away. You
are a writer, your poem is your baby, give
it something special, something that either
offers insight or flavor.

Repetition; it doesn't always work, here
I think for the most part it does although
if you changed one or two slightly it wouldn't
hurt your poem.

Tighten up your work, remove "and, the,
me, I " anywhere you can.

"in a priceless race"; I don't think priceless
is the correct word.

all merely suggestions, thanks for sharing
and allowing us to offer suggestions

I'll do all the necessary rectification and update the poem

Hommies

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