The cryptic nature of poetry is something that I’ve always been in perpetual awe of. I find that never truly understanding its message, but denoting it down to its very last letter anyway and moulding it so that it makes sense to me on a more personal level is so enriching. The way that it starts as a single spark, a mere scribble on the back of an old receipt, but manages to set alight the hearts of many and touch people in a way that actions simply cannot.
I’m a potent believer in the concept that poetry shouldn’t always be written to be understood. Which is partly the reason why I so often refrain from sharing it because it sits with me, resonating within and creating a safe haven deep inside, so that sharing something so raw feels like I’m giving away a small part of me.
But I have come to contradict myself, as I am also a strong believer in the power of poetry and how it can in fact reside in others too, and even act as a helping hand, a friend, a form of anchorage when unstable, solace when conflicted and hope when all seems lost. So here I am, baring my soul in the form of metaphors and imagery, in the hope that you can find a piece of you within my words, just like I have.
Edited by Nabsticle
Powerfully silent, dauntless and honest,
Fractures of life etched upon skin
Softly kissed by the lips of needles and ink,
Instilled with nostalgic retrospect,
Pensive notions spark gratitude;
A magical moment of clarity.
Gentle and assuring, bold and raw,
Sewed amongst starry freckles
Amongst beauty spots and purple bruises,
Instigated from the pain of the past,
A reminder of what used to be
And what wonders are to come.
Intrinsic and poetic, ambiguity at its peak,
Curves gliding in complex intricacies
Aching for a vivid and intimate disposition,
Reflecting a life rich with miracles,
Distorted by conflicted voices within
Yet blooming upon the cages of the heart.
Blissful catharsis, graciously empowered,
Bloody cuts housing the sweet cure
Solace between symbols and shapes,
Screaming to be heard
Over the drumming of a battling heart;
Building a character to be proud of.
Momentous and intense, artistic and clever,
Sketched across the cracks of bones,
Waves of identity whistling through veins,
An opus masterpiece
Naked and exposed for all to behold,
Baring everything the soul breathes for.
What’s your interpretation of ‘Opus’?
P.S. I’ll leave the word ‘tattoo’ as a hint if you’re completely lost and have no idea…
P.S.S. Be imaginative and open to all possibilities; it’s okay if your ideas aren’t parallel to mine!