To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Women are not made of flesh and bone rather they are manufactured like a sport sedan retooled, refitted an redesigned every decade She doesn’t want to be out of fashion out of the game dismembered from the club of desire She runs on a treadmill and imagines herself thin as a blade of scissors with a body of glass that never wrinkles never grows old never fades If only she could love herself raw like a new baby gurgling She shouldn’t live inside ads or scourge her softness of curved lines that mimic an artist’s brush handle When will women not be compelled to view their body as a science project or a garden to be weeded When will she cease to be made of pain?
This Poem was Critiqued By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2012-09-30 01:17:14
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Oh yeah! You got me going! I think you wrote this with so much passion that all the 'laws' of poetry went right out the window! retooled, refitted an(d) redesigned every decade <<<what a picture and how true it is! She runs on a treadmill and imagines herself thin as a blade of scissors <<<<this line could/should be improved upon I love how you got right down to it with her running on a treadmill and imagining her beauty. But I'm thinking she should be imagining herself as a gazelle or something more than the blades-even if it is a good (but incomplete) idea of cutting long and steady strides... Living in the ads is a good line too. I like your work here. I have to admit something though. When I got to the last I considered a woman to compare with a garden, the constant need for weeding and hoeing. I think its kind of a romantic thought ~ not exactly what you had in mind I think. (sorry!) But I enjoyed it and I thank you for sharing* Smiles Ellen
Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!