I am not a poet. Let me know what you think. I can take criticism and welcome it.
RESURRECTION
The water rushes into the cavern
Flowing all around me
In a corner, a shaft leading upward
I reach up
My fingers short by inches
The water steadily laps up my legs
Passed my thighs to my chest
Devouring me slowly
Jumping in terror, my fingers catch
Pain from the suction of the clear liquid
The shaft, 3 feet by 3 feet
Circular, but not geometrical so
I go steadily upward
An easy angle, 20 degrees
I follow it
The shaft bends to the right
And narrows
Sides close in, scraping my elbows
I continue on
The rocks beside me, below me inflict their retribution
My hands, raw flesh
The skin on my elbows no longer exists
Leaving my bloody hand prints
Hearing the water, surging upward after me
The shaft bends again
And narrows
The incline becoming pronounced
The top of the shaft
Touches my back
Lightly
After the turn
I stop
Light dissipates
I pause
All around me, invisible, the rock
It pulls at my psyche with an energy,
An evil force
It pushes down on my back,
Closes onto my elbows and sides,
Rises underneath my hands.
I panic,
I long to stand erect
To stretch my arms out
The rock fights for supremacy
The energy course, I realize,
With the water touching my knees
Raw and bloody
I’m through
Trapped and Alone!
Then
Caressing my face
A soft wind comes
Vigor renewed, I strive to climb,
Out of the water’s clutches
The shaft narrows and steepens
Almost perpendicular
I climb slowly
Reaching for the next hand grip,
Hoping it will hold and not break,
Sending me down
The gentle wind becomes my guide
Leading me, I patiently struggle on
Light filters from above
With my remaining energy
I thrust my hand
Through a think layer of rock
Now I feel a sure grip
I climb out, study myself
Bloody and exhausted
The wind blows again
I watch, my wounds heal,
My strength grows,
My spirit refreshed
The water bubbles out
Looking to my right
I see another cavern
At my feet
The water rising and threateningly
In the distance
I see a shaft
It beckons me, I approach
Wind at my side
Since writing this post skippi4
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Yes i did, but it was the feeling of being stuck and the possibility of drowning that frightened me. It was really deep and it put you in that position where you felt that you were stuck and bleeding. don’t worry it’s a good thing.
Thank you anonymous, alyssa_wiser_gir, and LazyDazeTCo. Any suggestions for improvement or thoughts on your favorite parts. As Number 5 said in “Short Circuit”, I need input.
Excellent job, David. You’ve given a great picture of powerful existential forces, finely parsed and deliminited. What a service you have been; a pathfinder through the dangerous caverns of life.
Freestyle poetry is exactly that. It is a type of poetry that has no set pattern or style. Most of the time, freestyle poetry rhymes. Since most poetry is freestyle and rhymes, most people are under the false immpression that if the verse dosn’t rhyme, it isn’t poetry. Freestyle poetry can be fun to write. None of it has to make sense so it can be humorous. It can also be serious and have a lot of depth to the subject. This is a very flexible style of poetry and that is why a lot of different people enjoy writting this type of poetry.
Thank you Heather Marie and Tapdancer21. I guess it’s freestyle poetry, I don’t know. My professor called it Epic Poetry. Anyway, my question is has anyone gotten the hidden meaning in relation to the title?
I had never seen it that way before. I’ll send you a shout to tell you what I was thinking when I wrote it. It can be interpreted in many ways though. That is the beauty of writing. Thank you for reading it and caring about it.
I just realized I made a mistake in my reply above. I wrote “deliminated”. Last time I checked, that wasn’t even a word. I should have said “delimited”. Sorry about that.
In any case, what I meant was a like the way you broke up the stream of experience into multiple discrete thoughts and then recomposed them. I like the way the narrative flows. I have a tendency to leap from one mountain-peak to the next in my writing without taking the time to cover the intermediate ground. I often times just expect people to “get it”, so I really admire how you were able to actually take the reader by the hand and lead him through the cavern. Very well done.
Thank you The Fronde, I worked a long time on that poem. Did you see the hidden meaing in relation to the title? All poems are open to interpretation, which is why I posted it here to see how others see it, but I did have a subtle meaning within it. Just curious if you saw it they way I personally wrote it.
Well, thanks for sharing, you see it is the creativity, you would like the food, which you cook, the poetry is not the readymade food, we take the words and give feelings to each word. You wrote because you felt it. How about it singing it, you may try, the metaphor will help you to make so many other poems as if sprouting of the flowers from you one poem as a plant. Even if you are not a poet, you sow the seed and got it, just imagine singing it. I would express that sing it in the way as if it is county song, the songs that people in the rural areas sing as a folk song.
Well, you see if you may sing in the company of your friends, it may be a great joy. The crticism is just exihibition of knowledge, but when a child speaks few words, mother understand what it means. This is the same with all creative arts, particularly the poems, the few words, the drop from the sea to show to the mother, the self-feeler readers and or the listeners. They enjoy it as they can feel the words, I liked your poem, but I will not torture you to read my poem, however, I want to, so here it goes, please bear it:
“Epilogue”
We see and hear
This is start of learning
We touch and smell
This is middle of learning
We taste and speak
This is end of learning, Wait!
It is the start of self-study
We learn and do
This is the end of self-study Wait!
We do self-study to learn
This is the beginning and the end.
Let us start self-study
Let us go inside and outside
To learn all about
Our selves and others
In the small age of human civilization
Let us take a drop from
A sea of self- education and
Let us do self-study and learning
Before the drop of life vanishes, believes Bhagouauty,
Into the endless dimensions
Of time and human civilization.