thank you for this review Much apprecieated. The attic itself is meant to be a metephor for the mind, therefore you do have one. The man is meant to be the ego. You are most probably correct with the incorrect use of the word languish. And i will rethink the poited line to the reader. Thank you!!
Poetry / Man in the Attic
The man that lives in the attic
is soot-coated ebony licorice.
serpentine tongue with whip-like wit.
His smile, as crooked and bony is his back.
Let not his feeble appearance fool you.
Surprisingly spry and attentive is he
and he seldom rests.
Not a wink while there’s dark.
Like a bat in your cave, slinging his guano around.
Hidden in the corner, now covered in webs
and dust, a trunk is found. One lock. One key.
My turn, deep breath… and then
light. Just light and awe.
And I remembered the very last time
the attic was empty. When I was a child.
Saffron and gold colored streams beam through
the window at the far end of the place.
Shiny cedar wood floor and baby’s breath painted walls
fall open a space that rivals any great hall.
“Such a wonderful place”, said a whisper one day
“It’d be a shame for it to go to waist.
Why not bring something to fill in the space?
Surely, you have wonderful taste”
My father’s grandfather’s grandfather clock
and my moms old pot pourri I brought
I was sitting there one day, admiring my stuff
when out of the shadow or pile of dust
a figure appeared to be making a fuss.
That’s when I met the little man
who came to live in the shadows
of the space in my attic.
He languished my effects with lengthy word kisses
and praised me for my acquisition of them.
I took to listening to the old man,
he was smooth at first, even helping me
Bring more things to the space until one day…
I noticed
the light had been stamped out.
And it had been he and I and the stuff
in the dark
for a while.
My turn, deep breath… and then
light. Just light and awe.
The man that lives in the attic
is soot-coated ebony licorice.
serpentine tongue with whip-like wit.
His smile, as crooked and bony is his back.
Let not his feeble appearance fool you.
Surprisingly spry and attentive is he
and he seldom rests.
Not a wink while there’s dark.
Like a bat in your cave, slinging his guano around.
Hidden in the corner, now covered in webs
and dust, a trunk is found. One lock. One key.
My turn, deep breath… and then
light. Just light and awe.
And I remembered the very last time
the attic was empty. When I was a child.
Saffron and gold colored streams beam through
the window at the far end of the place.
Shiny cedar wood floor and baby’s breath painted walls
fall open a space that rivals any great hall.
“Such a wonderful place”, said a whisper one day
“It’d be a shame for it to go to waist.
Why not bring something to fill in the space?
Surely, you have wonderful taste”
My father’s grandfather’s grandfather clock
and my moms old pot pourri I brought
I was sitting there one day, admiring my stuff
when out of the shadow or pile of dust
a figure appeared to be making a fuss.
That’s when I met the little man
who came to live in the shadows
of the space in my attic.
He languished my effects with lengthy word kisses
and praised me for my acquisition of them.
I took to listening to the old man,
he was smooth at first, even helping me
Bring more things to the space until one day…
I noticed
the light had been stamped out.
And it had been he and I and the stuff
in the dark
for a while.
My turn, deep breath… and then
light. Just light and awe.
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thiscantbelife reviewed Version 1 -
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I really love this one. I’m not really big on poetry so I had to read it a couple of times but it really makes you think about what your actually trying to convey or maybe even what each individual reader can get out of your writing. I think you are very talented! :)
Shakara
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SMRB reviewed Version 1 -
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Well , Well, Well, no shortage of imagination here my friend. This poem allows the reader to take the journey through the attic with or without you.I found myself reading then re-reading. Then i found my imagination was taking me back to my attic and bringing more stuff in,until the light was stamped out of course.
It reads well but I think the flow could be improved.
My turn deep breath…and then light.Just light and awe. Unlike many ,I like repititive lines in poetry that seem to define your thoughts,especially when you end with it
Good Poem.Good Ending.Good Job.
MKary reviewed Version 2 -
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Universality.
The fact that I do not have an attic, never occured to me while I was reading this. For the span of 3 minutes, I was able to go up the stairs I do not have into the darkness I don’t own, and check out all of the clutter I’ve managed to cram up there.
There were only a few moments I was pulled out of the piece. The first being:
“Let not his feeble appearance fool you.”
Poets are almost always better often served by not giving instructions to their readers. The line seemed a touch forced. Almost like a pretense at seeming wiser than you are. The rest of the poem shows us your depth, you don’t need to reach any further.
I also questioned the use of the word Languish. I completely own up to the fact I may be too stupid to understand all of it’s connotations, but it jsut didn’t seem like it was used in an accessible fashion.
It could be, that I’m still thinking about it, precisely your intent, so change it or not, it’s done it’s job.
I could nitpick, but it would be like picking motes of a well-tailored suit. Looking down, they may catch my eye, but only the view from the standpoint of arrogance could show me they were there in the first place…
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