Black Silhouette

I am devoid of life,
a void,
a black silhouette
in the crowd,
stamping feet,


Annoyed that
I can’t reach them,
my own gravity well,
unceasingly pulls
me back into
my own hell.

On the outside,
the edge,
Event Horizon,
onlookers admire
the Angler’s light,
bedazzled, lured
by its bright show,

until they look over
the edge and see
the Beast

beneath the glow.

©️ CGT, 2018.

10 thoughts on “Black Silhouette

  1. I think you are truly gifted to be able to combine both your words and your imagination to express complex feelings so many of us have in some form or another. Truly mentor texts for me for this reason. I wish more people would discover your poetry for the sole/soul fact that it would help heal them, too.

    Here, your imagery of stamping feet paints a picture I can even hear of the otherwise abstract frustration. Making that commotion while being ignored shows that the narrator doesn’t want to be invisible but can’t break through that realm, is really “devoid of life” like a ghost against its will, which in turn, sucks the actual life out of him. Then, like a portal, the well…

    Then another (or same) evil, sucking portal: the black hole (Event Horizon allusion research was necessary) with its beauty from the outside, but the narrator is unfortunately forever on the inside. The only question that remains is if that terrible, fated trap is the Beast or part of the person himself. I would never believe the latter.

    What a stellar, intergalactic journey into the human mind, heart, and soul…. 5 stars.

  2. I’d like to use your poetry in my HS English instruction this week: would you mind? I would have my students try to interpret a few of your poems and then re-teach metaphor and imagery with your poetry as examples. Happy to use a share-link form so you can read what they thought. 🙂

    1. Feel free. I definitely don’t want to know what a class of teenagers thought about my writing, though. That might hurt.

      1. Did it today! Their reflections on “Black Silhouette” and “Stitched Permanent” were beautiful actually: we projected their responses anonymously and read them aloud, and they said a lot of each other’s responses were poetry themselves. I was blown away.

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