by Carrie Cahill

Member since:
April 11, 2006

My Own Worst Critic

June 12, 2006 11:44 AM EDT

views: 20 | comments: 6

When the pen touches

The empty page

A spark

Fluid life leaves its

Slug slime mark

The iridescence

Like the sun reflecting

Off of black ice

That deadly occurance

What's more is the poison

I lay down on this page

Is seeping right into my skin

And the antidote

Exists in your heart

Not mine

I would gladly pluck it from

Your chest

To live

To continue to create this muck

Tags: slime, poison, muck, worst critic, poem, ink, poetry

To Groups: Poetry, Experimental poetry, The Critics' Corner, Poetic expressions, From My Moleskine®

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Comments: 6

Nancy S. Jun 12, 2006, 12:50pm EDT

Muck? I think not...

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Carrie Cahill Jun 12, 2006, 12:53pm EDT

thanks Nancy :)

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Stephen Schneider Jun 12, 2006, 2:33pm EDT

Very nice muck if muck it be. Thanks

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Carrie Cahill Jun 12, 2006, 2:38pm EDT

thank you stephen. :)

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John F Walter Jun 13, 2006, 8:16am EDT

I really love how you transfer the meaning of this poem that's so hard to write to the lover, "the antidote" is in the other person, and must be retrieved for the writing to go on. "Slug slime mark" is a very effective choice of language, as are all your images for the arrested blots on the page. I liked this one the most of the recent relationship lyrical poems, Carrie.

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Nathan Schauer Jun 13, 2006, 10:25pm EDT

Great use of language in this one Carrie. The images of the blot, the smudge works to accentuate the intense ideas in the poem. This one shows a control over the images that is really very strong. Good work.

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