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Those Who Sleep In The Cell

There are groans building up
within the cell of your belly.
Laughter, a first layer,
sleeps at the base of the column,
unafraid of who comes upon his back.
Disbelief holds hands
with an unlikely friend, faith. They
sat together in church last Sunday,
exchanging no glances, but today,
they sleep atop laughter; the church
becomes a cone upon your back
and you graze snaillike, saved again
from the hostility of homelessness.
Then comes the most recumbent,
the one who wouldn't sleep as well,
however distressed his lower sleepers be.
He mixes himself with sympathy,
takes himself into the judgement
of his old tongue and its honesty;
he finds confidence in his emotions,
especially the birth from the mix
that names him Honesty.
It is not so proper to still yourself
to a groan, or snuff it out
like a set of trembling fingers
upon the wick of hope. But,
when half of an old you
looks in your face
and finds the strength to smirk,
to wave a palm breezily,
you must find time to listen.
To speak into the ears
of those who sleep in the cell.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
I anticipate honest critiquing. Thanks.
Editing stage: 


this is a really beautiful piece. good job

Thank you so much purplekay.

author comment

this is a really beautiful piece. good job

The title introduces us to what would I would assume to be a political poem, with all the unjustly incarcerated people in this world. What else does a cell mean, other than the microscopic ones that compose all life. But the first line pulls you immediately in another direction, "the cell of your belly" which i do not understand "a priori" or poetically.Then there's a a narrative about faith and disbelief which hold hands, the church becomes a "cone upon your back" then you introduce honesty...This reader is not understanding the soul of this poem.
For me if the meaning is too hidden and vague in a poem I have ceased to blame myself as I used to. I feel the poet has chosen not to offer me enough essential logic as to be able to comprehend the work. Who are those who sleep in the cells.
You requested honestly, I have been so. But I see that the use of words, of poetic feeling is there in the poem. You have a good sense of the poetic line, understand the use of images and the craft.
It is very much a struggle to convert a poetic idea into a poem that is accessible to a reader without stating its "meaning". But that is the task at hand.

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

Hmmm. Very deep appraisal there. I would work on being less encryptic in my subsequent poems.

author comment
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