The parade

Weathered stone gargoyles perched
Awkwardly on the ledges,
Disremembering the legacy of
Their forefathers’ struggle.

My forefathers are dead,
Why waste all my effort
Suspending them in watery
Purgatory? As H2SO4

Forces its way in
(attacking uncertain identities);
we are lost in a parade
Of anonymous glares

O how I longed to escape
The violent, furrowed brows
The scalding hot tongues
That brought tears to my eyes.

I knew that I was feeble,
First born son of chance,
Fashioned roughly from grit
By the chisel of circumstance.

My father couldn’t know
The power of his effort
But it means nothing now:
His stony face has flaked away.

I’m trying to practise writing short pieces, but I find it hard to condense everything AND keep up a sustained rhythm/form which carries you neatly through the piece… Helpful criticism (or amusing insults) are all welcome.

The development of identity. . .

I found it very interesting and was left wanting to hear a bit more.

You will have to further explain this? It seems to have slipped passed me. Is this a substance?

Otherwise, I find nothing to criticise and I would love to hear more.

-Skep

Thanks man…

H2SO4 (the numbers should be subscript) is sulphuric acid (sulfuric if you’re from the US!) - which is a major component of acid rain. The reason I used the chemical formula was because it provided a juxtaposition of contrasting images - the classic, gothic feel of the stone gargoyles set against the harsh reality of the scientific age we live in. I also wanted to suggest a destructive interaction between the two; hence the line about H2SO4 “forcing” its way into cracks in the gargoyles and eroding them. Generational conflict; the passage of time; the effect of time; the effect of industrialization - these were the themes I was trying to evoke with those few lines, in particular, I wanted to explore what their role might be in a coherent definition of identity in a ‘postmodern’ context.

In light of your comments, Skep, I’ve decided to scrap my ‘short poem’ thing - it requires more discipline than I have and leaves too much unsaid. Booya! Thanks for helping me see sense.

I liked it a lot, you shouldn’t give up, it was intelligent, as well as poetic, which is rare these days.