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Tuesday, 11 March 2014

Poem: Imperfections



above the treetops
                birds extend their wings of freedom
the thoughts you hold inside keep your mind captive
after a certain amount of time spent
you grow accustom to this silence between the walls
disrupted by a rhythmic spreading of the lungs
as if wind were dusting off the dirt
that the road has left on us
 

the world we create
                forces us; to convert our values
- our faces to fit the made up standards
making a race to keep up with the money-making machine
selling youth and beauty, labeling age as a disease
friends turning into numbers, and we're adding them up
on screen, once they have passed the test
                caved in under the pressure

into a swirl it grabs us
some never realize the slaves they've become
others shed a tear for the person they could've been
                                  *
I listen to your voice
                taking me places I've never seen before
and you said: »I love the moon for its imperfections.«

21 comments:

  1. A world were we learn to love the beauty of imperfections.. What a world it would be...

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  2. yes...we need to learn to love life - people - the things around us with and even for their imperfections - and how would a perfect world look like anyway...

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  3. If only we could love ourselves like the moon.

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  4. "others shed a tear for the person they could've been"
    one of the many wonderful concepts you bring up in this poem.

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  5. I agree with you. I wish there were enough people who'd love others despite (and maybe for) their perfections. It's sad to see people valuing cosmetic perfection more than intrinsic goodness in others.

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  6. Man does seem rather petty and insignificant when juxtaposed with the natural world. Your final lines really struck me as wise and beautiful.

    Do you mind if I point out that the 'its' in the final line does not require an apostrophe?

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    1. ha, i've been editing my next poetry book and I think I went a little overboard with its' so now they stick to me.. thank your Kerry! :)

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  7. smiles...i do love the moon for its imperfections....its true in how the world we create forces us to fit the morals and such...which is scary considering the current state of affairs...if only we cared more for those that are not us...

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  8. Oh, this is really a cautionary tale, I think. It is very sad if people buy into the idea of youth equals beauty & age equals disease. People really need to accept themselves as they are and to accept others as they are as well...without feeling the need to change to fit some prescribed (by who?) norm!

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  9. It is sad how so much emphasis is placed on looks.

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  10. the platter is full with beautiful thoughts and the closing line is classic...

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  11. I'm struck by "as if wind were dusting off the dirt
    that the road has left on us", and your thoughts on how life shapes and changes us.......LOVE the closing line!

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  12. Beautiful and wise words ... the closing lines are very touching ... to love unconditionally despite imperfections is true love :)

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  13. Oh Man! Now what do we do with an imperfect Moon?
    I suppose, we'll just let it shine.
    Nice piece.
    ZQ

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  14. I love that ending line of the moon ~ So much wisdom from mother nature ~

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  15. This is so tender and beautiful, Nataša. Lovely to be reading your writing again.

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  16. I really enjoyed the first few lines as they hooked me in to read the rest and I'm so glad I did..the ending was beautiful...

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  17. If you take away someone's imperfections, you take away who they are. I wish less emphasis was put on youth and outside beauty. A lot of truths in your poem, Natasá.

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  18. Lovely work Natasa - like your ending and loved especially the line:

    "as if wind were dusting off the dirt
    that the road has left on us..." Great stuff... With Best Wishes Scott

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  19. The idea of friends as numbers on a screen is risible. I don't think most people have the faintest idea of what a friend is.A friend is a rare species to be treasured.

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  20. The whole idea of perfect is pretty debatable because, obviously, everyone is (im)perfect one way or the other. Brilliant poem. :)

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