Bodybuilder

[ellajam]

Hi, Devan, I've been waiting for this one.

While I find the subject and what you have to say interesting, to me it seems this poem has been contorted by rhyme. Here are some notes:

This is a poem about bodybuilding. It's called "Marble Eyes".
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My cousin knew a sculptor long ago,
perfection occupying every thought; maybe "occupied his every thought"
if not ideal his work was all for naught, "if not ideal" sounds a little off to me.
and through his work his dedication'd show. Is that a word?
The finest marble'd make his pieces flow
into a life their own. Yet still he sought
this visioned form - At last, no more he fought; "visioned form" is foggy for me, "no more he fought", nah
his masterpiece was wrought, prepared to show!
And yet, despite the contours of the stone,
the years of slaving, beating at his trade,
the sculptor found a single imperfection:
he'd never quite displayed its woebegone love the idea in these last 3 lines
spirit. Its graven eyes, yet soundly made, why "yet" ?, and do eyes understand?
could never understand its own reflection.

I'd love to see you work on this, in this form or another.

Thanks for the read.