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Open Poetry #38
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Atrophy
| Open Poetry #38 |
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Atrophy |
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Honeybee Member Ascendant
since 1999-12-26
Posts 5372Ontario, CANADA 
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Atrophy Frail is the night of frigid shadows and hardened memory walls closing in on skin, fragile moist obscuring mocking stars. They laugh. They’ve always laughed, but I cannot. Dormant is the artist no beauty strokes of brush. Prominent is the winter – a portrait of death. The artist's hand is stilled or is it killed by a spring, resurrected not? I cannot scream and bleed upon the page to vent my rage of a past that haunts the now, for, it's contained, remains mundane to still the vulnerability; And no inspectors or sanctions have come forth to save me from my secrets – my personal weapon of mass destruction. I suppress this mess, let it pick at my bones and confess to no one. I keep the masks hidden and powder the cracks and realize that even the best swimmers can too drown. I am a woman who won't step on an ant all the while allowing feet to tread on me and I detest that part of self, though applaud a job well done on my mother's hand from the way I watched my father desecrate her worth and how she taught me to be a man's misery. I am cloaked of childhood lost and remember when my face was liquid smooth innocence serene scar smiles woven in pigtail pretend so Grandma wouldn't worry. I wish I had a zipper so I could unzip and step out of self. Then I would be free...of me, at least for a little while only to return to this leper life once more. It is here that I rot, a blot on society my fate mapped out by generations. I am standstill, numb flawed like so many others before awed by the image of rainbows paying the cost of foolish hope, mindless cope; That it only takes a moment to fall from grace while reaching for the sun - fingertips licked, burn the sorrow that stroke like a razor on acid tears. I'm too young to feel this damn old. There is no miracle, no second chance no reason to exist; I am agony, atrophy and wear the want of death as second skin. Melissa Long-Monette Intellectually I know that Canada is no better than any other country. Emotionally I KNOW that Canada is the best country in the world! |
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| © Copyright 2006 Melissa P. Long-Monette - All Rights Reserved | |||
Nightshade 
since 2001-08-31
Posts 13962just out of reach |
Oh, Melissa, this aches. You are already perfect in someone's eyes, and He is always with you. I think you're pretty neat too.  Be well. hugs, Chris Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance. |
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shirtless Member
since 2006-04-29
Posts 359 |
It may surprise you, Melissa, but I see hope in this poem. Although the artist is dormant, winter is described with an artistic term -- PORTRAIT. And even if the best swimmers "can to drown," you don't say that they do drown. And a woman who "won't step on an ant" is showing compassion in a world that lacks it. And the "pigtail pretend" that protects a grandmother is another demonstration of compassion. By the way you have a knack for short alliteration. Here, "pigtail pretend" is childish in tone and cleverly establishes the approximate age of the child. And there is hope where there is wishing: "I wish I had a zipper." The speaker in this poem chains herself to the past and this is the cause of the atrophy. Perhaps the solution is to let the past atrophy and let the present build on the speaker's artistry and compassion. This is another powerfully emotional write. Thanks Melissa. |
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playing.with.crayons Member
since 2006-01-02
Posts 362Neverland |
"I am cloaked of childhood lost and remember when my face was liquid smooth innocence serene scar smiles woven in pigtail pretend so Grandma wouldn't worry." Oh my. Melissa you have never once written a poem that I haven't gone "wow" to in my head. I searched your name just to read more of you. much much much enjoyed xx |
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divine chaos Senior Member
since 2006-07-09
Posts 617dancing 'neath the moon |
this is so heartbreaking and powerful absolutely awesome read I love the way you weave Thank you for sharing ~*Sheli*~ By words the mind is winged |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
What can I say? Each verse evokes memories of another and yet...it is as if you wrote them better! this: "I cannot scream and bleed upon the page to vent my rage" smile sure y'can y'just did. It's not often I say this to another woman, but I would love to see you, unleashed and realized.  |
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echotranslation New Member
since 2006-07-12
Posts 3California, US |
Very beautiful... it seems you think and breathe in poetry. -echo |
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ambivalence Junior Member
since 2006-07-13
Posts 15Canada |
Amazingly powerful and dripping with emotion. The troubles you've faced have in the very least fed your talent of poetic expression, I hope this work of beauty helped you feel less inundated. It's really sublime. |
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