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The IIlusion Of Perfection

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Below is the poem entitled The IIlusion Of Perfection which was written by poet Gael Attal. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The IIlusion Of Perfection

Can you draw a line so straight
That microscopes cannot debate
How perfectly you've drawn a line
Only your mind ever creates?

Would you rather have to cope
With stars that shine in perfect files?
At such a sight I would but mope,
And with a rampant star elope.

Words like broken shards of glass
Disseminate into the air
And fall with all their wordy gloss
Into my injured hand with care.

I'd rather by the odds be shunned
Than afterwards rummage the ground
For perfect pieces, leaving down
The beautiful defective ones.

No human is symmetrical,
No paintings fair except the frauds.
Dreams would fade were clouds not fickle.
Laud the skies with lightning flawed.

Pages perfect, you would think,
Are bland and vapid without ink;
Without the spots to paint a life
And plant a tree with blemished leaf.

Music's not a single sound
That goes forever; pure, profound.
A shift in pitch when scales ascend,
Would make it rich and pertinent.

If perfection were divine,
It would uphold no earthly frame.
Its structure would elude the mind
With an illusion of its fame
That would suffice to keep us sane.

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  1. Date: 8/7/2009 5:18:00 PM
    1) Self-explanatory, no one (and nothing) can draw a perfectly straight line 2) An example, imagine that all the stars were in rows and columns perfectly every night... that would suck x3 3 and 4) A metaphor, (or simile hence "Like") Words are like broken glass shards, they fly into the air, people would wait for them to fall in order to pick the nice perfect pieces that they like (let's say they want to make some sort of Mosaic? who knows who cares). The speaker would actually extend his hand

  1. Date: 8/7/2009 5:16:00 PM
    Perfection doesn't really exist anywhere on earth. The only place it does exist is within our minds. And thus we must learn to admire the beauty of imperfection. I had the format of this poem support its concept. It's got pararhymes (Gloss/Glass, Life/Leaf) Slant rhyme or Imperfect rhymes as I like to call them (Divine/Mind, Fraud/Flawed) Though I'm not particularly sure if I pulled the latter off correctly I'll go for a stanza by stanza interpretation just for you,