Be Brutal, Be Beautiful, But Most Of All Be Truthful?

Question

~Crooked Line~


I have angles,
obtuse places without definition
that linger long after day has banished night,
and fight is bravado of dreams.

Après vu follows déjà vu,
motes of memory sliding into voids
like ribbons unfurled
in confusions tempest,
and rest is acutely sparse.

Playing tic-tac-toe with no centre square.

Am I right, left or wrong?
Laying the straightness of this macadam
upon another sandy hope,
thinking maybe another corner won’t lead me back
to a point of no recollection.

In those corners of maybes
could there be salvation?

Mr_R_Swipe · Accepted Answer

As you say... 'Obtuse places without definition'.

A poet is supposed to 'tempt' us towards enlightenment... not 'drag' us towards confusion.

I am not saying your work is bad... It has the cadence of poetry, but you need to start working with much simpler forms, and develop ideas before you move on.

Oscar Wilde once told a friend he had spent an entire day working on his latest poem.  "I spent the whole morning on it, and added a comma"  "I then spent the afternoon removing it".

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Be Brutal, Be Beautiful, But Most Of All Be Truthful?

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