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Evening Eyes Trembling tip of candle flame, reflecting in the windowpane Does its hypnotizing dance inside a dark, cerulean frame Staring through it grips me so, in darkness of the dining room The evening prematurely dim; so sleek in its seducing gloom Center of this empty house, a fireplace that chirps and cracks Deep inside my humble shrine of burning wood and bleeding wax Silence plays a violin to hypnotize my mental foes Winds outside will soon join in and calcify my cares and woes A sleeping cat, an empty plate, before me in this hour of late My consciousness has done its deed, now slowly starts to dissipate My eyes will soon play tricks on me, new phantoms in the darkness form Fuzzy black amoebic shapes contorting here within the dorm The time has come to draw the shades and put away the world outside Midnight has a bed that’s made, prepared to rest my meeker side Now it’s time to put to rest my nervous fears of destiny I close my eyes and visualize as though my home were by the sea |
Additional Notes:
Appears in Brandon Petit's new poetry collection "Intrinsic Desires" (available at Authorhouse.com)
ISBN: 1420891995
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2006-02-07 11:33:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.96774
The Poe influence here is dramatic, Brandon. You've
set the gothic tone just about as well, and not gone
too far with the pathetique. You display, as you have
in the other poems of yours I've read, a personal style
and care with words that shows regard for craftsmanship.
Don't use the word, "dorm". In the diminutive, it breaks
with the tone of the gothic style and brings context a
little too much into your own personal world. Let this poem
come to amount to something more grandiose and it very well
will.
Those of us who have been enough in candlelit circumstance
know the apparitions imagined with shadow play from candlelight.
Your line (suggested slight modification not-with-standing,)
"Fuzzy black amoebic shapes contorting here within the dorm" is
superlatively appreciated and one of the best images you
create. The inline syllabic purity of the line, "Deep inside my
humble shrine of burning woood and bleeding wax" is assonance;
followed by the internal rhyme found in, "Silence plays a violin
to hypnotize my mental foes". Would not, Mourning winds soon join
in, instead of, "Winds outside will soon join in..." be better
in keeping with the quality of the rest of the stanza? One can
safely assume, after all, the winds are outside.
You final line is an absolute conquest of my own regard, so well
have you placed me inside your poem..."by the sea".
I could little enjoy Poe more.
JCH