Piercing your eyes that deep into the soul
Even the skin starts shedding, making the way on its own
Was willing to grow out some petals but here we go
The raw feeling of getting exposed started to gnaw at me, oppressing me more
The dust on the book cover defining the time that has gone
The pages, still fresh, untouched, carrying the weight of the words unspoken, unknown
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Comments2
Excellent
Thanks a lot.
You're welcome
My comments on the poem “A rose so exposed”
“The raw feeling of getting exposed …” To publish is to get exposed. At the printing press where I print my books, there is poster saying that at such a place the published book goes even beyond the writer’s control. The dust on the book says how long the book has remained untouched.
“The pages, still fresh, untouched, carrying the weight of the words unspoken, unknown”
The book remains untouched. The messages are still there, inside. See my poem “I burn’d my books” on this site :
https://mypoeticside.com/show-poem-195012
See also one analysis of my poem by Blackbox AI :
https://mypoeticside.com/show-poem-195194 (Analysis by Blackbox AI)
Soman Ragavan.
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Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I'll definitely read your poem.
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