Welcome to a Poetry blog designed to show some appreciation to the art and provide exposure to some underrated talent. Follow to support, it'll go a long way!
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.
*Disclaimer: Mild language*
Forget me. My flaws. My sins. My culmination.
Two P.M. No, wait. Two A.M. Bitter
Saliva wraps capsule. Feeling shitter.
Better. Oral cavity moist. Throat dry.
Pulse rate stable. Sense an increase. Why?
Wait! Breath! Inhale stops panic. Now can exhale.
Fine. Fine. Not fine. Must relax. Cannot fail.
Check watch. Maybe is wrong. Hmm, try the clock?
Hands move minutely. Days pass. Muscles lock.
Ahhh?! Pause. There is nothing. A lucid void.
Eternal full bliss. Supersenses employed.
Fuck. Fuck. Run! Now! Shapes shift towards the sink.
Pussy. Keep it in. We are on the brink.
Accept me. My flaws. My sins. My inception.
The speaker is clearly in a state of panic to begin the poem, and in fact can be deemed as a state of both mental, and perhaps physical pain too. The fractal attempts at calming oneself are very well captured by the structure. Let's see what the poet has to say.
What? Another poem? I know right. My upload schedule surprises myself. However, at the current time, I find myself less preoccupied so I can devote more moments to writing. Anyways, onto the new poem, Qabool, this one is packed.
Ultimately, this poem is a call for acceptance. "Qabool" is a very powerful word, it is more than just agreement, rather acceptance. In fact, most Islamic Pakistani weddings feature it as the colloquial, Westernised, "Yes, I do". So the poem essentially is transformed into a call for acceptance, even though its beginning asks the author to be forgotten.
It is clear the author is engaged in popping some pill. It's contents are unknown. By the end, I wanted to capture two feelings: control and escapism. Currently being on a fairly medium dosage of medically prescribed pain meds, I was able to posture myself during a cycle and write the poem while intoxicated. Having an addictive personality, I have sometimes deal with the issue of drug misuse. Ironically, I am very clued up (as most drug abusers are) about what's entering my body so control the dosage and timing. However, I shall let you ponder what exactly I want you to accept.
Regarding structure, to grant a romanticised feeling I engaged with iambic pentameter. So that's 5 sets of stressed and unstressed syllables (10 syllables total per line). Line 1 has 12 syllables and rhymes with Line 14, containing 11 syllables. This way the poem feels contained within those two mirrored Lines. The rest of the poem, bare Line 11, has 10 syllables. Line 11 has 12 to build up that a sense of rush and over the top as the drugs hit. The rhyming scheme is otherwise straightforward, contained within each stanza.
The flow of the poem tries to engage within Line 1 and Line 14. Detailing the original thought and then its opus by the end. Line 2 to 13 capture the pill's effect on the author as it passes the lips. First, the mouth, then heart, lungs, sense of time, the hit. Finally, the topple where perhaps it all feels too much. To be fair, these feelings of preparedness and anxiety can be abstracted from the drug process. But that's perhaps a loose theme o
All content in this blog has been used with permission of the artist.
Overall wackywriter rating:
A moment lived for 2 seconds, felt for much longer: the power of poetry.