Soul, Prisoner of War

My soul, mutilated, molded in my skull
by its residents,
the sole prisoner of war.

War waged by wit and wisdom,
infant streams next to the soul river,
screaming its flow since creation,
the song that tosses me
deep into the first minute.

The pubescent mind,
so naïve and headstrong,
cannot wrap itself around
the childlike whim of the
ancient soul.

The mind,
so addicted to synthetic reason,
refuses the might of
gentle mercy.

The feeble streams use all their force
to bring dead trees to the living river.
A dam of bone-like trees locking limbs.

The mind defined [love] as convenience.
The mind defined [love.
The mind defined love.
Set the soul river ablaze.
Remind the streams.

102nd Weekly Poetry Contest

Report violation

Comments

Man I can't even grasp what

Man I can't even grasp what it all means, which is a good thing I think. But the words challenge me in their beauty to keep pondering. I really love this poem. Well done sir! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go stare at a ceiling and think about the childlike whim of the ancient soul. Am I stuck in synthetic reason? Do I know the meaning of gentle mercy? Mmm.

--
Thor

Report SPAM

This poem has a lot of really

This poem has a lot of really spectacular language. I would work more with the point of view to enhance it, to make it more clear what's going on (based on Thor's suggestion). Bring in the speaker more; "my pubescent mind." And, "I set the river ablaze." Also, what is the significance in the poem? What is its meaning? Working more with the river metaphor may help. You may also want to start the poem with "War waged," and move the first stanza down. I love a lot of these lines though: bringing dead trees to the living river. Infant streams, screaming its flow since creation. Great stuff going on here.