"Legacy": Exhibition 7

By wackywriter | Poetry Patrol | 13 Aug 2021


Appreciating art and underrated talent. Follow to support!


To continue this week's exhibitions, we have another powerful poem created by a little known artist who uses Instagram to share some moving verse; beautiful and outrageously sad at times.


The pen, firmly gripped, is drawn closer,

Edging its way towards the manuscript.

Its point searches for a natural home,

As if the predestined end will change course.

 

The ink, Crimson red, is pulled quickly.

Draining more form its scarce life source.

Its thin stream blots the oxidized parchment,

As if the relic will animate and defy truth.

 

The word, soft spoken, is muttered repeatedly.

Fixating on the ultimately futile task.

Its power reverberates around the room,

As if the desperate call will be answered.

 

...

 

When found, let expectations not be lofty;

Forsaken, this legacy shall remain empty.


It seems to me as if the poem is about writer's block and the initial hesitance resulting from expectations set too high. It is something a lot of us can relate to as perfectionism is the killer of creativity. However, I may be wrong: let's hear from the speaker themselves.


While late, as promised, here is my contextual summary of the poem. Personally, I find it easiest to write during the late night, stuck in those 2am feels, where everything feels so much more lucid. "Legacy" is a product of that process. Yet, even with its spontaneity, like most of my poems, this remains heavily structured, so let's get right into it!

Starting with the title, I would say it leaves a lot to be imagined. In this sort of meta-poetry style where the author attempts to actively convey their struggle, the legacy could simply be the words on the page or more complicated the memories left behind. I feel both interpretations are valid. However, the deeper point is really conveyed in the concluding two lines, which we shall get to in a moment.

Concerning the first 3 stanzas, their structure of each line is almost identical. This is intentionally to draw similarities between each of the three concepts explored. A lot of this poem is inspired by Islamic concepts of predestination. First is the idea of the pen, seconds, its words being written in the book, and, third, how it echoes the voice of Allah (God).

The initial stanza tackles the concept of the author wielding their own material manifestation of the pen, trying to rewrite their journey in a hope to find a new destination. The second stanza is tackling the difficulty in forging your own destiny as your are on borrowed time; the sand will eventually flow from one vial of the hourglass to the other. Yet, your hope to change fate, appears futile and pointless. The third stanza ramifies this line of thought as the subject unable to write anymore, attempts a final call for help.

In its finality, this prayer for change is left unanswered as fate could not be fought. The author pleads this when the "Legacy" is found that, in the grand scheme of things, it remains a blip in the cosmos; empty of magnititude and awe. Like most actions in life, the value of this one will remain insignificant. The defiance to challenge such a truth and forge a "Legacy" only results in one's own demise. Perhaps if the subject had a bit more hope and patience, they could find peace.


All content in this blog has been used with permission of the artist.

 

Overall wackywriter rating:

3d69bea6630ee0ca84f4c3a0d156e6d3151a553c2394e4406f979550beb3d735.png

Deep, and meaningful to the poet.

How do you rate this article?

2


wackywriter
wackywriter

Economist. Businessman. Avid reader. Writing content for the young, creative, and entrepreneurial.


Poetry Patrol
Poetry Patrol

This blog is to share a Poetry fan's favourite works and to give the poets some appreciation. Make sure you follow this blog and the artists themselves for regular updates.

Send a $0.01 microtip in crypto to the author, and earn yourself as you read!

20% to author / 80% to me.
We pay the tips from our rewards pool.