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West Coast Sheriff
February 13th, 2016, 01:25 AM
This is my latest work. Warning: it's somewhat dark. Even I was creeped out when I re-read this—looking for grammar; I may have missed certain errors.

Enjoy!

Your statue shall commemorate you,
You deserve recognition for your
Lively, creative personality that
Intrigues everyone you encounter.
I am just one acolyte out of many
Following your footsteps left in the sand.
As an influential figure, I've decided to
Award you a statue in appreciation
Of your lasting impression. It's only
Appropriate that the statue be not bronze,
Nor copper, nor marble, but made out
Of words fit to paint pictures as I reflect
On the role you played in my life. You were
The torch that lit the way and the
Bridge that crossed the roaring stream.
The realm I grew up in was as dark
As it was dreary. Yet, your presence
Created a recovering sanctuary.
And as the years have passed,
Your memory of me has inevitably faded.
The memory I have of you remains
Still burning brighter than a kerosene lamp.
You'd be flattered— or maybe frightened
—to uncover the impression you
Left on a scared, lost boy. To this day,
I've found no one that
Can compare to you. I've shunned
All who come near in fear that they
Will not meet the high standards you
Created.
The boy, now a man, lurks in the shadows.
Afraid to accept the demented monster he's become.
You leave footsteps in the sand
For me to trace. I will never be within a mile
Yet, will always hide within ten.
Perhaps, I shall surprise you when I arise from the bushes.
Or maybe, I shall be surprised
When you turn around to find me,
Smiling.
In a contribution dedicated to you, your
Statue is created. Your memory is preserved.
And as the writer of this written statue, my name
Too becomes branded into history.

Feedback, constructive criticism and flattering comments are appreciated

amgb
February 13th, 2016, 01:59 AM
Beautiful. The 'you' you're referring to in the poem; I think you shaped a picture of that person perfectly. The metaphor of the statue is such a good one. I love how you moved to the next line for the last word of the sentence:

"Will not meet the high standards you
Created."

"When you turn around to find me,
Smiling."

Your poems are always appreciated:) You know what, I particularly love this one, I might come back to read it every now and then.