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Untitled

Submitted by TheDarkOne on Tue, 2015-12-15 06:12

A whisper of breath
breaks the silence
A whiff of the sweetened air.
I stare.
...a strained gasp

The sun sweeps the room
caressing your skin
A caramel kiss I crave.
You stare.
...a soft smile

The dust dances in the air to the distant melody
Your hands in mine...

A yearning that echoes in defiance,
yet never came to pass

You fade, a remnant husk
A rift in what could have been.
An unfleeting memory
edged on the horizon of my mind

I remember. A hollowed souvenir
A flashback bereft of existence.
Spawned of my idleness
surviving only as a distorted antiquity

The cold reality closes around me
You were never mine

Just the whisper of another life
I dream had come pass.

LM 2015/12/15

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
Between the line breaks and the wording, I am having a bit of trouble setting a pace and refining the tone. So much so, I can't even think of a title.
Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

wesley snow

Tue, 2015-12-15 15:50

wesley snow's picture
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I must say though that it bordered western structure in its form. Elegantly written with style.
I can make but one suggestion.
Use "a" before a consonant and "an" before a vowel. The line below should read "a".

surviving only as an distorted antiquity

That's the best I can do.

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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TheDarkOne

Thu, 2015-12-17 03:39

TheDarkOne's picture

Oops. Thanks for that. I don't think I have had this much uncertainty about a piece before

author comment

wesley snow

Fri, 2015-12-18 14:43

wesley snow's picture
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It's as good or better than your other works.
Why the apprehension?

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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