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  • March 22, 2024 at 1:17 am #18148
    Dreamer
    Participant

    To stand in a room of faceless screams,
    To reach out for hands with no fingers,
    To cry out to these soulless veiled figures.
    And I keep trying to run, run away, but why
    are my legs chained? Chained to nothing…..
    Maybe if I plead they would let me run.
    But to whom do I plead? Where did they go?
    Those…those faceless figures, weren’t they
    right here(where?) staring hungrily into my eyes?
    Sucking the last essence of truth from me?
    (what truth are they searching for? what truth
    do I hold? what is it that I know?)

    O! help me! They seem to be chasing me.
    Yes, I am running. But my legs are chained
    but the chain never seems to pull me. (Am
    I really chained? Are these chains real?)
    I can’t see them anymore. Those hooded figures.

    Maybe this silence is consuming me. Maybe
    I am a slave to this nothingness. My thoughts
    seem to scream to me. (Whisper, please.) My
    thoughts are not mine. They….they are being
    conferred to me. Whose thoughts are these?
    They are here. The soulless monsters.

    Take my voice. My thoughts. My soul. Spare
    my sanity. Spare my identity. Spare me the truth
    of knowing that you never existed. You aren’t
    real. (But why do they seem real? Like humans.)
    Allow this void to consume me. I will sell my
    dreams to you. Give you my hopes. (Hopes?)
    Let me out. Let me out from this chained place.
    Let me out. And I keep pleading to those red
    hooded soulless figures. But I am chained.
    I am chained and my voice isn’t mine….

    March 22, 2024 at 9:57 am #18866
    Susan Katz
    Keymaster

    Thank you for sharing your very powerful poem – filled with energy and an intensity that one can feel.  If I were to suggest something, it would be to use more “poetic” tools in your poem – such as, metaphor, simile, alliteration, rhyme, and onomatopoeia.  For example:

    To stand in a room of faceless screams, ( I would take out the punctuation so the lines flow together – as in thought – we don’t punctuate our thoughts.)

    To reach out for hands with no fingers, (you could be more concise – in poetry, less is more, “reaching with blunt hands…”)

    To cry out to these soulless veiled figures. (“my voice a soundless echo…”)

    And I keep trying to run, run away, but why (“running without moving – nothing there – chained to air”)

    are my legs chained? Chained to nothing…..

    Don’t tell us what you want us to know – show us, make us feel it through images we can relate to.  I would be happy to see this again after some editing, if you are inclined to resend it. 

    Thank you so very much for your interest in https://www.poetladykatz.com   Your friend in poetry, Susan

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