Unfulfilled by Elizabetta

Jagged thoughts and raw emotions
Fall and sprawl helplessly
Finding a safe haven between
The evenly spaced, paralell lines
Of the crip sheat of loose leaf

They are embodied in loopy scrawl
And clothed in ebony ink
They lie paitently
Waiting to be refined
Screaming to be sculpted into something
Something more than the bleeding of one soul
to run wild
Through minds all night
To leap gracefully out of mouths
penetrate
transcend
To become a smile, a kiss, a tear

But for now they sit still
Ready to overflow, yet contained
A candle not yet lit
Sun convered by clouds
Waiting for the gentle stroke of ink
To return and revive
But the wary pen lies
alone
on a shelf.

Martin Vann (63.208.61.195) -- Thursday, February 27 2003, 07:21 pm

Her pen, that couldn't write the feelings that she felt...,
Elizabetta,

You did very well, each unrefined word, I felt. You do this so well, yet say, you can not speak. Why do I hear and feel such clairty in what "you," say is vague? I think without your knowledge, your poet's pen, jumped off the shelf and back into yourself. I think raw emotions are among the most sensitive. Elizabetta, you spoke your words, feeling fear? Not sure, but every word was clear to me.

May I say, sometimes, I think you must surprise yourself. Beautiful poem!

MartinV

Elizabetta (198.81.26.234) -- Saturday, March 1 2003, 05:48 am

Yes
You asked if I spoke my words feeling fear, the answer is yes. Fear not of failing, but of failing to suceed. (vauge distinction, but I have a feeing you will understand) The poem is equally about my writing and my life. Both feel at times, self-contained. I wish to reach out. To, as is such a common theme in my writings, connect. and I am struggling to do so. Thank you for reading my poetry.
Elizabetta

Martin Vann (63.208.43.132) -- Tuesday, March 4 2003, 08:28 pm

Thank You Elizabetta, Its Good To Hear Your Other Voice.
I beleive, I understand your meaning of failing, not today, not tomoorow, but failing in a way that is forever. Fear not, you do not fail, for what you share with me aand others, when you speak of yourself, I find a quiet, treasure being shared. That is a long way from failure, to reach a stranger/s, who can share with you, how you make us feel. A smile, a kiss, a tear, I find them all to be real.

A very loving poem!

MartinV
P.S.
Elizabetta, you do connect!

Martin Vann (63.208.43.132) -- Tuesday, March 4 2003, 08:45 pm

May I ask a favor of you?
Elizabetta, I realize that you until now, feel uncomfortable with commenting on other's poems, least of all your own. However, you have came this far and here is my request. I wrote a poem called, "Courage Of The Poet's Pen," I only ask that you read it, no comment or reply about it, do I request. I think that it may offer you some comfort in using words as you do. Honestly, telling us about what you feel and what you believe, is the foundation of a poet. Never fear your own words, if, they are true and express how you feel.

MartinV

PAMELA (66.225.130.57) -- Wednesday, September 8 2004, 11:41 pm

WICKED
THIS POEM IS SO ENTRANCING. THE ATMOSPHERE IT CREATES IS ALMOST AS INTENSE AS THE POETRY YOU SPEAK OF HERE.
LOVED IT :O)

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