The Last Poet

[Jassy Melson]

will be a shrunken prune of a human,
a ghostly withered grape just barely hanging on
before that last solitary screaming plunge
into the void.
If your eyes are sharp enough
you can already sense the edge coming on
(we'll discover the light just a bit too late),
rushing, rushing, sweeping it all downstream
taking our breath away.
The final piper will play notes no one will hear,
the last minstrel will sing
a bitter insane song.

[cafolini]

Nooo. There is hope. Your poem is very good. ROFLMAO

[Lokasenna]

I'm not usually a fan of your work, Jassy, but I rather enjoyed this. Misanthropy has its place, and some of the imagery you use here is very compelling - I was particularly taken with the 'shrunken prune' image of the opening lines.

[virtuoso]

Jesse fading into the wild blue yonder! If you want to maintain a consistent grape/prune analogy, then you might want to have it falling to the rotting or decaying (either one) soil. Also, the phrase, 'sense the edge coming on" is a bit awkward. You could say, "see the ledge unfolding before me", or "see my dreams sitting on a ledge". You talk about your eyes seeing it in the previous line, and seeing is a specific sense, so I would not use the word sense in the line below it.

You are improving greatly, by leaps and bounds, on your ability to infuse apt analogies and metaphorical language in order to construct a deeper, emotive strain. I like the grape/prune analogy. I look forward to reading more of your poems.

[Jassy Melson]

Thank you all for your comments. They have given me much food for thought.