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Kevin Patrick
Kevin Patrick cornwall / Canada, Male, 27
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Kevin Patrick's last comments on poems and poets

  • POEM: A Polar Explorer by Joseph Brodsky (12/12/2014 5:58:00 PM)

    This was a harrowing nightmare, reminds me of all those tales of polar explorers that met their untimely demises trying to reach the passage, which no doubt this was inspired by. Brodsky does an admirable job of going through the inner psyche of a man who is on the edge of death, and all the images and dreams he sees, then it all comes crashing down, with the scintillating detail of a pleasurable image of a burlesque queen turns into the repulsive image of gangrene. The mans fate is written, in horrifying detail. The imagery and mores ending are enough to leave an impact on this reader. This is a must read.

  • POEM: Speak Of Love by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black (12/10/2014 3:38:00 PM)

    a wonderful read, love has never been more epic and phantasmagorical then this charming piece. Great execution and a charming read.

  • POEM: A Song by Joseph Brodsky (12/10/2014 3:18:00 PM)

    An absent lover created this touching and heartfelt work. I especially loved stanza three, its distinctive in its tone. A good choice for today.

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Kevin Patrick's comments on forums

  • Kevin Patrick (10/18/2014 11:34:00 PM) Post reply

    Every line of this poem is steeped in a deep understanding of human pain and suffering, although it may seem the happiest person it can be a disguise.

    you wish to be happy
    you wish to be free
    you want to show the world who you are but you cant

    A great depth and understanding of the subject matter, but perhaps its also good, for others can reciprocate and understand. there is hope
    Thank you for this

  • Kevin Patrick (10/3/2014 10:44:00 PM) Post reply

    :) Just the last three lines get me, the rest is just the best. MORE!

  • Kevin Patrick (10/3/2014 10:42:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    There’s a face in the mirror
    And I’m not sure who it is
    It comes right at me like a gun fighter’s fist
    Charging fast, and rapid nearly grazing the tip
    Between the span of nerves; Hook line and miss
    And there’s a veil thinly pealed
    Beneath a rock in my skull
    Gazing through the parallax of two empty dots

    I try to call out but there’s no room in the dark,
    Amber light converges in deliriums exhaust
    The Shellac dries
    Under heats condensation
    But the sink is gorged
    In a gelatinous inundation

    While a frail monotone
    Splinters the trembling cracks
    That tears my lips
    Without so much as a match
    My Sutured mouths rings in the tropic of cancer
    As Wings shackled flyby in fire pits trail
    The Porter calls out for my Gordian vest
    I lie to live and keep all my threads colour best
    While growing in the marrow
    Of the puppet at the pulpit
    Is an epiphany of chemical pain
    Coursing the narrow gaps in my dislodged veins
    And I wonder which role that I'm born to play
    When every day feels exactly the same

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