Master's Piece
for Poppy's Prompts #5, May 2024
_____________
you draw me
into you
erasing parts
you say
don't work
reworking pieces
you say
don't fit
__
you
paint
the me
you would have me be,
limited pigments
and trailing lines
__
you
envelope me
molding me
from your clay
shaping my thoughts
modeling my ideas
even as my dreams
of something different
erode
___
you convince me to
descend with you
into the landscape of your design
and then
color me crazy
___
you call yourself artist
massaging a portrait
that you alone
imagine picture perfect
__
you let your wild winter wind
rage
never once
wondering if ever
I dared
to see myself differently
___
your palette
isn't all you hold
under your thumb
as day after day
you chisel away my finer bits
__
even now you seek to
edit me into
a master's piece
__________
Copyright © 05/09/2024 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.
__________
Author's Notes: Written as an entry for Poppy's Prompts #5
About the Creator
Christy Munson
My words expose what I find real and worth exploring.
Top Stories: 🥳
Unofficial Challenge Winners:
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
Keep reading
More stories from Christy Munson and writers in Poets and other communities.
Can You Drive a Ford Fiesta Through a Desert?
I’m flying down the B1 highway from Windhoek to Keetmanshoop with a map and a boot full of camping gear. I’m excited for the first stop of my Namibian road trip: the Quiver Tree Forest. I spot the sign and turn onto the C17, off the tarmac and onto the gravel. I’ll be there soon; it’s only ten miles or so. I am unprepared for what comes next. The car slides and slips across the road. I am not fully in control anymore. I slow to a crawl. The car judders and shudders, the noise deafening, the vibrations rattling the teeth in my skull. It takes me around an hour to drive the ten miles. I arrive at the campsite relieved to be in one piece, even if it feels like all my bones have been shaken slightly out of place. I will later learn that this is what happens when the gravel road becomes “corrugated”, and that the roads authority goes round once a week to “grade” them. Seems I arrived about 6 days after the grader had last been round.
By Jenifer Nim6 days ago in Wander
Comments (15)
Nice Work. I enjoyed your poem very much. Let me know your thoughts on my work, open to constuctive feedback.
Back to say congratulations on your Top Story! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Beautiful !
The penultimate stanza is exquisite and excruciating. Very deftly done indeed.
Beautifully written! Congrats on TS, Christy!
This is incredible. Congrats on the TS.
Wow... Christy this was painfully beautiful... This felt so metaphoric for me!! Beautiful work here!!! Congrats on Top story!!
This is incredible!! Breathtakingly incredible. I copied and pasted this: “ you paint the me you would have me be, limited pigments and trailing lines” Because I absolutely adored it and was sure it’d be my favourite stanza but each one that followed was equally as astoundingly well written. This has to be one of the best poems I’ve ever read. You are extremely talented.
But the "artist" interprets the world as s/he sees it : )
Excellent poem using Poppy's word prompts! Especially liked: 'you let your wild winter wind rage never once wondering if ever I dared to see myself differently'.
Nicely done!! Incredible entry for the challenge!! 💌
"you convince me to descend with you into the landscape of your design and then color me crazy" That stanza was so relatable! Your poem was so poignant and I loved it!
Oh how you thought about such amazing ideas!
Oh, Christy, I concur with everything John Cox says here. It makes me think how much we have changed in what we will accept from partners. Excellent work!
Reminiscent of Pygmalion. Except this is as disturbing as Shaw’s play should have been. I feel the emotional theft and erasure in your poem, Christy. Really well done!