The Key



She toiled her days
Till her bones were weary and dried
And then without praise
She was left in the project, aside
Like refuse, dispensed with, dumped
Like an artifact that outworn its life
And so alone she suffered the lumped
Existence in the midden of human strife.
I would not remember her
If she did not always walk through days
Of memory, sick, tortured, in pity raised
Above the city's monuments and scars
That marks the sadness of civilization.
Her body sick, clutched in the strangulation
Of disease and pain
Drifted without wealth or mercy here;
For here where hospitals are everywhere
She more than the mariner was cursed. Vain
Was her hope to be rid of disease
Poverty had her encircled in its chain
And she in squalor froze in ease
Where money replaced man's love as keys.
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Submitted on July 07, 2013

Modified on March 05, 2023

42 sec read
2

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABABCDCDEAFGHHIJKILILL
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 763
Words 140
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 22

David Smalling

I have been writing poems since I was 12 years; but writing had been my blanket for loneliness since age 11. My father died when I was 13 and poetry was my therapy for pain since then. Only I wanted the world to think, feel, laugh, but not cry. I had been forgotten in the grief of my father's death because everyone else needed the consolation I did not get. I became the even more the withdrawn loner, and saw a world more aggressively hostile. Books became my better friend and drove me deeper into academic seclusion. I wrote thousands of poems everywhere: on rocks, trees, sand, and all over house and school - this was how I interrogate the world, and how I weep alone. Poetry was my quest and comfort. I trusted paper and pen and spoke my truths to them above all else. Yes, I am graduate, a business major, a science major, an humanities major ... still searching for consolation, love, security, and joy obtained in poetry. Then again Jamaica is such an ideal place to live as a poet; the history and memories, juxtaposed against the world, is pure inspiration. more…

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