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The Wall Her friends know how to mend her heart in ruins, know how to save it. Advice flows in unwrapped lumps, clumps of pap like bad gravy. She's not a languish-in- anguish type but the scent of him made her pure verb. Squared the circle. Music her surcease, her sole release. Lines define her ramparts falling, the wall kept in place friable, fracting in shards and traces. Go on, she will. The daze of healing. Her scar will turn to proud flesh, a reminder of love spurned and her well-earned badge of courage. |
Additional Notes:
For EMW.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas H. Smihula On Date: 2003-10-07 10:00:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.40000
Mell what do I see in this poem? I see hurt not by the poet
but by a friend. I see those knowing the feelings as the
support to carry her on. I see her actions were made by just the
words that he said, his closeness made her unravel.
Her need was great yet the hurt was deep. The wound will heal,
but never fanish. I like your analogy of the wall coming straight
upon it without realizing there was noway around it.
This is another of your poems that makes the reader dig.
Outstanding.
Earlier you asked me the question about my poem and I haven't had
a chance to respond. You were right about the poem being the poet
for I am strapped there is no release from love when it is found.
Unlike this poem of yours mine was about no matter what happens
I can never escape my love for it is entrenched within this soul.
Hope that helps a little in making mine clearer. You made me think
about that with this poem so a job well done. Tom