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Face the false starts

I think I’ll make a portrait With inky words of my soul But false starts get in the way I’m hungry the body says Feed the body, not the soul The soul will pester my body Make a mark, hear the critic Draw a line and see the soul flee So it begins with a portrait sketch Every picture reminds me of me False starts stutter and stumble like me The three of us are in disagreement My soul is amorphous like a poet My critic plotting like Lucifer And me completing my trinity So say we all, say we all When we are in tune The ink will flow Good starts start with a stumble Start again like a toddler Newborns do not make mistakes Not like I do in this worn poem Feed the soul, not the body Watch the body wither in ecstasy My soul is not my possession Neither is this canvas of words The body is mortgaged to the man Only the ink is truly mine Only when the nib hits the canvas Then like a wasted body, compost Many false starts are behind me Even these words mirror my face Feed this poem honest nouns Let it sip my veritable verbs A clean line is never neat Like drilling for dirty oil on a gamble We’ve ante our soul for a glimpse I’ll feed you boiled eggs as a reward I’ll fill you with Chilean wine Just stop with all the false starts Please stay steady for this portraiture Make my reflection easy to gaze I’ve shattered so many mirrors These false starts never end Just to capture a perfect portrait No matter how I age I still look like me My words still act like me Maybe false starts are all that I am False starts follow me to the end of the line The soul waiting endlessly to take flight I fill up the final stanza with all my faces With false starts behind me this time Like a photo from the past put away Painting a portrait of me again and again I think I’ll make a portrait with my soul I’ll dip the body and soul in my ilk I’ll make words better than my face False starts will be my emblem My portrait will become faceless Then maybe true starts will begin

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Silent One

Date: 3/3/2024 8:45:00 AM

To me your poem is a poignant meditation on the nature of creativity and the enduring quest for authenticity. It celebrates the transformative power of art to transcend limitations and illuminate the complexities of the human experience. Through its raw honesty and introspective depth, the poem invites readers to reflect on their own creative journeys and the eternal pursuit of truth and beauty.

Triny Xiang
Date: 3/3/2024 9:18:00 AM

Aw shucks. You shine a light on ten stanzas of stop and starts to say what you say with such succint eloquence.