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Vault

Vault.

I can feel you
rolling over me,
testing the resistance.
Your words pouring down,
looking for a crack,
to pry and break
and prove.
Well, I want to give you a clue:
make three turns to the right,
stop at kindness.
That’s all I ever wanted you to do.

You see,
I know every idea isn’t good.
If I could stack up the after thoughts,
I’d put them in a box with a bow,
and leave them at your door.
Years of words,
too heavy, too late,
dropping short and breaking into pieces,
all over the floor. And those looks
you gave me,
always sweeping up the mess.
Everything, gave me away wrong,
so I just gave it away first.
All that petty change,
I had just found on the ground,
And you tucked it away so righteously.

We’ve been down this road now,
close enough to touch,
everywhere, the big blue world out there,
and I’ll just play the part right.
But it’s not too late to turn,
twice around to the left,
and stop,
by that old Mission on the side of the road.
Do you like that sort of thing?
And if you can’t find the words
to sing along the way,
don’t worry, you’re what the song is about.
And if the shades of light,
never fall just right,
and your brushes dry in the wind,
just hold still,
and I’ll paint you the real masterpiece,
all of my time here, in one frame.

I’m tired of wondering over these borrowed bones,
waiting under this strange skin,
praying to hear my name
from anywhere else.
My back is breaking,
holding up the walls of a scripted world.
My knees are bending,
fighting off the pull from the ground below.
My body is bitter,
squeezing out the rats in the middle.
And my hope is begging,
pleading for you to turn and,
aim for me,
as hard as you can,
when you finally fall.

Or,
we could just ditch this party,
you know?
Leave these rags on the floor,
and kick them every morning.
I’m right here. And no ever knew more.
Just turn your head once to the right,
slightly, softly, stop perfectly,
see me.
Crack me.
And we’ll spill out into the fields,
all the colors pouring down around us,
into their only place.
I’ll gather up all the days
I let slip away
and hide them in your pockets.
I’ll pay your debt to the ground
with shiny polished silver dollars.
And scatter the words in our tracks:
I knew you, I knew you,
and you knew me too.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
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: 
This is an older poem that I wrote many years ago. I just found it, as well as a few dozen others. I like the ideas in it, but maybe it's a bit convoluted. I'd like to re-write it, because I pretty much feel the same way, but I think maybe it should be shortened.
Editing stage: 

Comments

A very deft write. I won't beat about the bush, I'm impressed. I can identify with a lot of your struggles, there is so much human frailty in there. The imagery and metaphor you have used, is to me, both entertaining and understandable. It's not always overt, but I don't have to sit up all night with a thesaurus, trying to work out what the hell you mean. In short, this is a great poem, which I enjoyed reading enormously.
Now all that isn't particularly helpful crit, if you want to shorten it somewhat. One particular stanza stood out to me as a bit lengthy and possibly a bit superfluous - starting with:
'We’ve been down this road now,'
and ending with:
'all of my time here, in one frame.'
Quite a chunk, but to me, the poem still works without it.
Just a suggestion, please feel free to completely ignore.
Only one thing left to say - welcome to Neopoet, hope you enjoy the site and feel free to ask any questions you like.
Jx

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Thanks Jane! I really appreciate that you took the time to read this and give your thoughtful feedback. I agree with everything you suggested. Its ironic, that the stanza you suggested is unnecessary, is the one that actually inspired the poem. I think the rest of the poem may have outgrown it. I was literally driving by an old Catholic Mission on the side of the road in Montana, girlfriend at the time next to me. I wanted to stop and look, but I figured she wouldn't be interested. I spent the rest of the drive thinking up most of this poem. I wonder, if you caught the "dialing the combination" bit I wove in...first 3 turns to the right, 2 to the left, then one to the left...cracking the vault. I guess that was my original intent, but maybe it gets lost. Anyway, thanks again! I will work on those changes you suggested! Looking forward to reading your work!

author comment

Regards the 3 turns to the right, 2 to the left etc. Initially, I took them as part of a direction, then I scratched my head and slapped my forehead (metaphorically of course ) and realised they went with the title. So yes I did get there.... eventually.
Obvs lack of caffeine.
Jx

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Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

Starry Poet, thank you so much for reading and the great feedback! I originally wrote this, as everything I have done, with no intention of anyone else reading it. This is the first poem of mine anyone has ever read, actually. Getting things down on paper has become such a therapy for me, that I've decided to share and try to get better at writing. I think I have some decent ideas, but my technique is rough. Your advice is very helpful! Thanks again and I look forward to reading your poems and learning more!

author comment
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