incantation Posted November 14, 2022 Share Posted November 14, 2022 Dialogues in blood, An amnesty of tears of blind men to float an ark full of mirrors that promised the return of their vision. The birth was marked Of a covenant between a man and his conscience. He would watch them fall, Those trying to climb To heaven flame by flame. Streets in the mind of A prisoner all had the Same name. Did Mandela's reflection Scream at a silent figure. From a small prison Cell he would expand His mirror and let His dreams sail on Ark of winds ready for the flame of democracy. Constitution hill distils Stories, figure in history's Mirror whispers names. Mandelas first view of An unlocked sky is Echoed in people Passing through The old fort building, new Narratives unfold before Virgin eyes about those Who lived game by Game with jailers and The darkness. Muted Tales held oppressors Captive, for some Prison was a route To liberation. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David W. Parsley Posted November 19, 2022 Share Posted November 19, 2022 Hi Barry, this poem brings an interesting perspective that would be helped (and lengthened possibly) by some interwoven specifics such as explicitly delineated jailer-prisoner interactions, perhaps some dialogue. Maybe a complete shift to that mode is called for, with the generalizations alternately implied or stated by a character. More showing than telling by the poet. - David Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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