Openings scene (I.P. Thanksgiving)

By Itane Vero

Sun, 30 Nov 2014
  • 892 reads
4 comments
 

I tear up the map and let the snippets of

paper float through my world like white

swallows. When I got so far. The people

I meet, their words are as unfamiliar as

mornings, their lines as strange as night.

 

Should I have an intention with my life,

a purpose, it will start with live as such.

 

Freedom as unheard as a new language.

Certificate 12
Poem
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)

Comments

Submitted by Mark Say on

... but one point: I think the extra lines between sentences disrupts the flow of the words and dilutes the idea a little.

 

Submitted by Itane Vero on

Hi, reading it again, I think you're right. The extra line is indeed disrupting it.

Thanks for noticing it!

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

All your poems are self-contained mysteries, Itane Vero. Most authors give away something of themselves, their photo, a part of their past, some personal detail of their present. You could be any age, any nationality, woman or man.

Keep it that way, I like it and I like your poems.
 

Submitted by Itane Vero on

Thanks for your compliments.

Itane Vero