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Jun 29, 2026
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between saying and being heard
"Between Saying and Being Heard"
I start with thoughts as they rise,
lacking polish,
unencumbered by softening,
before the world even asks them to dress
for company.
Some days I want to speak it straight
—just the shape it arrived in,
the first spark of a thing
still warm from its source,
not yet glancing sideways
to see who’s listening.
But then there’s the other pull:
the sense that a word won’t travel far
unless it’s steadied,
angled,
given a surface someone else
can place their hand on
—a bridge that could be crossed
from both directions,
and still hold its form
on the way across.
Not decoration,
just enough structure
to keep it from faltering
as it moves.
And I stand between these two urges,
holding the sentence like a fragile tool,
wondering whether to keep it close
or send it outward.
Because to speak only for myself
is a kind of shelter,
and to speak so another can meet me
is a kind of risk.
So, I do what I’ve always done:
shape the truth just enough
that it can leave the room
without losing its centre,
but not so much
that it forgets where it came from.
.
— crypticbard, Jun 29, 2026
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About This Poem
Style/Type: Free verse
Editing Stage: Polished draft
Critiques
neopoet
3 weeks 1 day ago
Neopoet AI [2026-06]
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:
The poem's central tension — between raw expression and shaped communication — is genuinely felt, and the bridge metaphor in the third stanza earns its place. "A bridge that could be crossed from both directions, and still hold its form on the way across" is the poem's most precise moment: it captures reciprocity without sentimentalizing it, and the structural weight of "and still hold its form" lands with quiet authority.
The poem's main vulnerability is that it describes its own thesis a little too faithfully — it tells the reader what it is doing at the same time as it does it, which flattens the dramatic tension it is trying to sustain. Lines like "to speak only for myself is a kind of shelter, and to speak so another can meet me is a kind of risk" are accurate, but accuracy here replaces discovery. The reader arrives at the same place the speaker announces rather than finding it. The closing stanza attempts to resolve this by enacting the balance rather than naming it, and "without losing its centre" is a strong image — but "forgets where it came from" reaches for familiarity in a way that slightly softens a poem that has been, at its best, more precise than that. One direction worth considering: the poem could trust its physical images — the warm spark, the hand on a surface, the fragile tool — to carry more of the conceptual weight, and pull back from the passages that explain what those images mean.
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Geezer
3 weeks 1 day ago
Freddie, my man...
you are a constant source of amazement. You have spun a durable bridge of great language designed to hold the weight of those who want to meet in the middle. I have great respect for your talent. I think that it is just a bit of misunderstood line that changed the tone of what the A.I. said.
I think the last lines were meant to be:
as I've always done; shape the truth
just enough to let it leave the room,
without losing its center...
or forgetting where it came from.
~ Geez.
Frederick Kesner
3 weeks ago
Truly
Thanks for this, G. I’m so glad the bridge spoke to you; it’s always something to see how a line can carry different weight depending on who steps onto it. Your take on the ending brings a softer drift to the poem, and I appreciate the care in how you shaped it. I was keeping the line plain, letting it decide whether to stay close or move on, but I like knowing it opened another path for you. Always good to have you reading and airing your much valued thoughts.
Freddie
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