Illicit Prancer

July 18, 2013

My name is explicit and rusting on a spoiled
Expired piece of pride
It can even make a sound that penetrates the senses
Elaborates the focus of horror in the lenses
These eyes shine and have difficulty to cry
Secretly they burn my skull which then
Make me have to tap a foot or a finger
So I look nervous but I couldn't be
Anymore disinterested

I am the illicit prancer and the sun waits for me
Woke up with the sludge of the grudge
Resting besides me telling me stories so I can relax
No pushing, no stealing
Sometimes I nap on ledges
The gushes of wind cradle me
Sometimes I have words slithering down my mouth when I think too much

I think I'm wearing stolen clothing
I have the constant urge to hit the streets since I was twelve
I have an overgrown dread of missing the right words to say and the right things to do
I drag around and
When life gets longer, I walk softer

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Comments (2)

Mariano MoralesOct 15, 2013

<p>Thank you so much for your feedback! I appreciate it greatly and I intend on taking your suggestions (:</p>

thisispoetryprojectOct 14, 2013

I feel as though I am missing a piece of your puzzle. It's as if this poem comes from a place in your heart that is not easy to understand-- it's very personal and therefore, should, in my opinion, be left as is. However, in the case that I am wrong, as I often am, reading this poem makes me think that it was not all written at once. In fact, it may have been written between large lapses of time. I say this because your ideas seem to change very abruptly. For example, you write, "These eyes shine and have difficulty to cry /Secretly they burn my skull which then/ Make me have to tap a foot or a finger /So I look nervous but I couldn't be /Anymore disinterested." Explaining your emotions in this manner makes it very hard for the reader to relate because crying displays overwhelming emotions (from your words, it seems as if you want to cry, but cannot) and the burning of a skulls triggers the thought of pain which lead me to believe you are feeling intense pain, when you are really showing disinterest. A great writer is one who can throw a 98 mph curve ball, but doing so every other line will distance the reader rather than bringing them closer. I suggest dedicating a good chunk of your day or night to writing and forming the idea for your future poems. Let me restate that if this is a very personal poem, do not change a thing! :) You have a unique style of expression and I look forward to reading more of your poetry as you progress!