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kowque
kowque
Dec 27, 2009 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

every 28 days

poverty made me
re-use rags of cloth.
necessity was a humbling tablet
i had to swallow all day,
it helped me refold
dirty bloody rags,
to trap black-crimson tears
that threatened to fall
down my leg
and soil my soul

in those used
blood soaked rags
i saw myself:
a fallen body
that was entrapped
in the treads of actuality

in those used
blood filled rags
i saw myself:
a Woman-Child,
arms embracing the sky
dancing to the tune
of abundant paucity,
whilst longing
for a different kind
of song...
— kowque, Dec 27, 2009

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: ZAF

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Critiques

ID

Ink Dragon

16 years 5 months ago

Hello Kowque,

welcome to the site. What an entrance! Raw poem. And asking for raw truth. Again, welcome, warrior soul! Yours, ~Nina
O

orgami

16 years 5 months ago

true poetry

and word discipline welcome to Neopoet Orgami~
kowque

kowque

16 years 5 months ago

do u mean that my choice of

do u mean that my choice of words needs more discipline?...i suppose it was a lttle too raw,but the truth always is...thank you for the welcome :-)
O

orgami

16 years 5 months ago

You have a great choice of words

you have a poets voice and I like your poem very much thank You!! Your poem is not too raw and I meant that I like your poem for its discipline in form
Seren

Seren

16 years 5 months ago

Kowque

Welcome to Neopoet ... my god what an incredible write ... and a first post ... blazing your entrance ... I sincerely look forward to your next this ones brilliant kind regards Jayne
kowque

kowque

16 years 5 months ago

thank you for the warm

thank you for the warm welcome,much of what was written was true,it was not my first post though
Heading South

Heading South

16 years 5 months ago

Dear Kowque

This is an excellent poem. I especially liked the ending, longing for a different kind of song... Yours, Daniel
O

Orphani

16 years 5 months ago

You have a fearless poetic

You have a fearless poetic voice that resonates with deep tones of inner strengh. A strong command of form ,and vocabulary. Deepen and strenghen, and grow proud in the freedom of your spirit,and With these fly to the height of your gift.Barry ,,,o,,
kowque

kowque

16 years 5 months ago

I have never thought of

I have never thought of myself as fearless,but it is good to know that atleast my poetice voice expresses a certain amount of fearlessness. I struggled with this poem...and like most young poets i struggled with finding my own voice but your words help me to see that I will find it someday... thank you koki
T

Tanya

16 years 5 months ago

Hi Koki To me this is truth

Hi Koki To me this is truth - beautiful poetry! I love your images, your language use, the ebb and flow of the words... powerful stuff! xT
kowque

kowque

16 years 5 months ago

...chuckle

now I shall always wonder if any of my other poems have a touch of beauty in them...*chuckle* Im glad you find beauty in truth thank you koki
Seren

Seren

16 years 5 months ago

Never fear Kowque .. I feel

Never fear Kowque .. I feel that a great beauty of words has yet to touch your pen congratulations on spotlight kind regards Jayne-Chloe
A

anonymous1

16 years 5 months ago

I learned a new word...

...and you used it so effectively: abundant paucity, a paradox here as in saying there is a lot of nothing or an abundance of little. Yes, the internal logic is consistent. To comment on your question following Orgami's comment: I don't think it was meant that your choice of words need more discipline. I think he meant that your choice of words show true discipline in that you chose your words carefully so that your abstract ideas become clear images that are concrete. We see poverty, we see anguish every 28 days but we also see hope. Well done. Lisa
Ross Hamilton Hill

Ross Hamilton Hill

16 years 5 months ago

your poem

Consistency in grammar would help. Breaking lines in the middle of short sentences is unnecessary. EG.Poverty made me re-use rags of cloth. that threatened to fall down my leg and soil my soul. this sudden switch to the mundane is a little disconcerting the pun on soul which I assume is intentional doesn't really work since tears would hardly reach the souls of one shoes. in the treads of actuality I like this image of being trapped in tyre treads a Woman-Child, arms embracing the sky dancing to the tune this is a bit cliched. Hope you don't mind all this criticism, overall I liked the honesty of the poem and its heartfelt qualities.
kowque

kowque

16 years 5 months ago

helo… the grammer errors

helo... the grammer errors as u see them are intentional :-) the poem was written the way id like it to sound in my head.. most of my poems are written the way id like them to be recited,hence the breaks and cut sentences... the soil,soul,sole thing was unintentional...wasnt really meant to be a play on words or anything...however,have you ever had a long trail of blood fall down the inside of your leg?trust me,it reaches all the way down...u missed the point,the soul is soiled(shame,humiliation) not the "soul of the shoes" oh,and that line that u like so much,funny enough,i just realised thanks to you was meant to be "threads of actuality"...hope u still like the line i suppose the part of the poem that u find so cliched is that way because thats how reality is-repetitive and common...nothing special or original about not being able to afford pads-but ill try find better words to describe it. ur critisim is actually what i had hoped for...it is what every fledgling poet needs. thsnk you kokz
O

orgami

16 years 5 months ago

Dear Kokz

I meant to write to you that I find your work well disciplined in its form my own wanders and rambles I like your poem as it is it has a dual signature in its cadence if not more that like music has good harmonic use You have a direct sense of your poetry that is rare Thank You again! Steven
P

pinksheep

16 years 5 months ago

I

like this poem-It is frank-that is all i can say-i wish i could say more-
P

pinksheep

16 years 5 months ago

Still

can not say more except that my mother sat on the newspaper the daily Manchester Newspaper until she sent her youngest of 4 down to the shop for something therefore more crucial than 10 no 6 and a box of matches- I turned out to be even more stupid than my mother that is another story -This is a good poem- Regards-