Creative Process

I was given wonderful constructive criticism about my poetry, which stated that it stops short from the potential it has. I could not agree more from the pseudo to the classic poetry perspectives, however from the beginning of this blog, I stated that I never edit my work, it stands for something and the creative process that imbues from it. The motive is the motion of emotion that transpires from the writing, when too much thought is put into the writing, it denotes the qualitative meaning as the relationship from the artist and his medium bond. I firmly do not disagree, all work can be edited into a plethora different ways, which could then alter the message entirely, yet you have a stand-alone piece of work that has deviated away from its original intent.

I titled this blog 1VERSE for the relationship that all accumulated writings are written under the pretense of 1 epic verse with 1 breath spoken into existence as time progresses. The original aspect is that the poetry I have displayed is equivalent to the scribbles, scratched out words, misspellings, crooked writings that are found within my journal; all in its raw form and element, just in digital context. I wanted to personalize the blog with a human touch without dressing.

I welcome and thank all open forms of constructive criticism, especially when it allows me to focus on how the reader interprets or follows my work. As I revise and edit the formatting of my writings for the upcoming book, I find myself more receptive.

Thank you for your feedback and support.

Symbiotic Release

By Charles Sapp II

The elasticity of time
and the skin of space
peeled back; exposed naked.

Teeth grinding with crushing jaws
retaining rage,
inverted sadness.
Modeling postures
tensely symbolic;
radio reactive, hardened rock.

Steady hand
placed on face,
surveyor of deep impressions,
motherly love,
echoed sigh of relief.

Exasperation of southern Sun
crowned highness,
heir to midnight throne.
A lunar guest
with goodbye kiss.
Tantalizing touched senseless,
the garden bears fruit,
shadow beneath feet
with gargled words
soothing sore throat
and unclogging air passageways,
breathe freely.

A distinct voice,
a distant relative;
pupils and iris to knowledge
as the Sun bursts into flames.
Earthly cadence
to a symbiotic release.