Monster

In my third world hovel,
I am Frankenstein’s Monster
Reading Werther, Milton and Plutarch,
Relating to their stories, their words,
Creating a heart etched from their poetry
Yet simultaneously
Forming a brain that realizes
How irrevocably different I am.

In my third world hovel,
I learn the mechanisms of English words
I can use to the highest degree but
Does not fall naturally on my tongue or lips.

I can craft a sonnet like the best of them,
A villanelle that spins relentlessly,
Blank verse, couplets, heroic or soft,
But none of this is mine.

Each poem I write is stolen, piece by piece,
From the words of the poets who owned this tongue.
While I lay dumb, simply moving body parts
From joint to joint and tendon to tendon
And every time they wake I scream and leave.

In my third world hovel,
I am Victor Frankenstein.




Poetry by Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 39 times
Written on 2026-06-22 at 05:18

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
I'm fairly sure that if this poem were submitted by Anonymous, I would recognize it as yours. You have a unique voice, and lord knows you have the skill.
2026-06-22


Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Powerful poem about a powerful poet - you!
2026-06-22


mickeko The PoetBay support member heart!
A copy of a copy of a copy of a copy. A heart looks mostly like any other, but only one heart is mine, as is yours.
2026-06-22


Albert Vynckier The PoetBay support member heart!
but you keep wanting the best poetry and prose and that's for me look like an aging man doing work-out to stay fit
2026-06-22


arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
That a most moving and sorrowful state that quite a few have experienced in their nuances uniquenesses. Having seen the latest Frankenstein flick (Oscar Isaac) has also added layers to this read.
2026-06-22