Pollute

[Contention]

Silver stacks
Down the stretch

Where sunlight meets-
And retreats.

Backwards-
Throughout bog
And fog.

Blurred and deferred.

Lone figure
On the wall

Who sunlight beats-
And defeats

Burning-
The whicker
To flicker

Turning and yearning.

Blackest thread
In the sky

How sunlight shades
And fades

Beneath
The wear
And tear

Hiding and biding.

Rolling time
Against the fence

When sunlight harms
And charms

Sharpen
The haste,
Made to waste.

Ghostly and mostly.

Gilded shroud
Below the sight

Why sunlight wavers
And favors:

Inviting-
To be jest,
At best

Embarking and larking.

Heavy heart-
Up in thorns

What moonlight fastens
To hasten

Wild-
To dance
At chance

Staged and caged.

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So long, to write anything, even a dab at all. Then this, this small piece seems to be nothing. Nothing with any sense. Just, eratic phrases thrown together on the slip of some innocent page. There are so many out there; even here, who can take something and form it well. Make it live in their words, and to them; the best. They know how to get it down. This poem, or what it may be, is without proper influence or injunction. More or less, it's a subscribed rambling of something that was trying to be put out. But, in essence - failed to do so. There's nothing really to decipher out of each stanza. Nothing, really seems to fluently exist. Or at least, it's not trying to.

The meaning of the poem, is far astray. It was meant to start out as a reflection of the world. A polluted place. But, then for some reason it became more emotional. Focusing, on someone. Who went from being themselves, to a farther image of it. Polluted in a sense. When, something or someone is the same; but hidden behind the false image of a black mask. Sort of, suffocated. And, they don't realize it; only you seem to see it. When, someone you care about; starts to shift away. Or tries to, and realizes not of their doing. They get ideas, from others, or are fed realizations and decide to wake up. It's not the polluted that is to blame. It is those that pollute. Who play with the mind, in hopes of gain.

That is not love,
Nor would it ever be.

A man who pollutes, or anyone who decides to; is cowardly and destructive. They must use, dirty means in order to gain their nature. Emotional wise that is. Yet, in the same scenario, it can be accounted for the Physical world as well. Someone who emotionally pollutes, is pinpointed on the idea of cleaning out someones mind. Not with purity, or actuality. But with deeds, misdeeds, and misgivings. And they hope, for winnings from their efforts.

And may reality, eventually wind them down.
So that they to.
Realize their pollution is never lasting.
Realization is everything.

The stanzas in this piece are very far apart. Punctuation is extremly thin. There are only a couple of periods. The space between each section, is like taking a breath. Or a pause. It stops the poem, in motion for a time. The period, ends a certain clause and enters the next.

The form of each clause, is the same exactly. With familiar means and ideas. Reflecting on sunlight, and repitition of phrases. These phrases are laid out in particular order.

In order for the poem to make any sense. It would have to be read with diction on each last word of every line. As well, punctuation should be followed. If no period or comma is after a line, it runs into the next as a sentence of a phrase.

[red.yoshi]

I can't critique on your work, Contention. You have already done it for me! XD.

Great work, great poem. Although it looks like nothing, read it through. To me, each stanza has its own, deep meaning.