Stranger
I’ve realised I will be writing about Him forever and will never fully describe Him
He, the stranger made of metaphor
He, the indomitable fire that feeds on empty
He, the ocean I drown myself in
He, who lives behind the door
He, who eats when I don’t
He, who grows when I shrink
He, whose lies live in my throat like a squatter
He, the invisible man of grey
Capital H E
HE
He sweeps off my feet
And wraps me in a blanket of backhanded compliments and misguided wishes
He whispers a lullaby of a mirage of self improvement
He tucks me in
And I starve as I sleep
Comments
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Annette M Velasquez
Intriguing. Your use of imagery and metaphor is excellent. This is an intricate, philosophical poem. You are obviously making a powerful statement, my only critique to strengthen the poem would be to give us a bit more clarification on the character of " he." Your descriptions though beautifully worded, still portray him as an abstract persona. If mystery is your intention, tell us why, though you did say you will never fully describe him and he is made of metaphor... the reader wants to know more, your writing is skillful but think of what is the meaning/ message here?
Kayle
I disagree. There is so much about 'him' in the lines and between the lines, and I find it enough. Obviously, we are talking about poetry here, so it is very normal to disagree.
Still, I'd like to say that it perfectly portrays a emotional (yes, that is not the commonly used word) sickness like depression, for 'he' is everything that grows when you feel down, lost and less; 'he' is that thing that makes you say you are well when you are not, and desire to end everything; 'he' is that thing that tells you that you are not enough and that you will never be happy, that you need to be better and do more, and yet, 'he' keeps forcing you to see how insignificant, meaningless and devoid of purpose you are.
It is abstract, for 'he' is nothing else but that. Shapeless, formless, but ever present.