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I have zero knowledge of poetry but I like words alot. Anyway, this is recent. Critique away. I know a dear one with a chaos heart And mindless blind wolf at the door Presence of teeth is promise of fangs Life in this bordered and bordering wild Whistle in graveyards, run dry in deluge Hot breath on tendon, this fluttered heart High and low then snapped back to middle Life in this bordered and bordering wild
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Apr 10, 2018 18:52
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Well, that was received well, so let's do it again. It doesn't matter what clothes I might wear We only see the dress we've made Apple-knowledged hogs in sorry repair, Faces float by in foggy parade I remember that table, that we set before And ate simple and lovely food I'll leave out the sweet, and tell tales of war What now rolls over me is where we once stood My darling, my darling, a softly held hand. I'll wear down your mountain and die on this land You meant it, I mean it, my voice now too rough Let's melt in the shade, honey, sing in the sun I'll drive though this desert, beyond far enough With broken leg stories that tell us to run
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Apr 13, 2018 05:24
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I love so much about this.spectres of autism posted:
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Apr 13, 2018 05:33
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areyoucontagious posted:Your forced rhyme is awkward and your poem doesn’t make a lot of sense because of it. Thanks for this. It is a clumsy scheme and needs rewriting. As far as the imagery goes, there's two people who would consistently connect but to a larger audience, you're right. I'll work on it.
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Apr 13, 2018 19:06
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I do better not rhyming. "The desert is for me" Every single star is naked, and cold, and free of self or other And then she grew sparse. Dried out harsh, wood and bones, the colors they were Creatures go dormant, after short gaudy moments of reckless beauty Forsake this thirst drawn on me by not slaking my own Lips cracked, dried salt cheeks, and rain once, some time ago, remembered Walk in together and fall out alone, cold beautiful stars
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Apr 15, 2018 04:28
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Good lord, don't be infuriated.
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Apr 15, 2018 16:23
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areyoucontagious posted:Hyperbole Good advices. Thanks!
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Apr 15, 2018 20:38
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but for real, your imagery is fine if it’s abstract or fanciful, tons of poets do it, and as long as your abstractions are written with distinct language it can ok. Your issue is that your abstractions detract from the poem. Try attempting something a little less metaphorical, a little more specific, and work your way back to the more “poetic” stuff.
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GenJoe posted:Hi. circling back to this poem. I really like these four bolded lines. like they are really good. you've got great imagery and theme going with them. Thanks for this, it's really helpful feedback. I don't say this to get a pass on my writing, but in this case, the friend I'm writing this for very much has death on their mind. We all do, but this person's concern is so much more immediate. I write to very specific people and situations, and yes, I'm pretentious often. High and low and snapped back to middle is very weak, and I need to find a better way to say how our feelings are so unsteady and scattered. Again, thank you.
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Apr 20, 2018 06:54
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areyoucontagious posted:Here’s something dumb: I like this. Words are fun.
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Apr 22, 2018 04:26
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Redact
PurdWerfect fucked around with this message at 13:02 on May 18, 2018 |
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May 16, 2018 05:54
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Valley of crystals 50,000 watts Emanating towers All these waves Wash over And no way to escape All this noise in Miles wide empty At three in the morning Its heard nine states away Lone driver, its dark Where are we going Listen to the spaces Between these sounds
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May 23, 2018 01:30
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I spring from violence, but it will not spring from me, at least outward. I will erode myself instead of tearing at another. The anger is so obviously there, and I'm in love with the idea of eating another's sins, and naming my own. I consume and am consumed by my own graceful mouth. I can live with this, loving tragedy so eloquent. The falling lifts me, and I fly in gutters crafted by the history I see, open eyed at late hours. And I am lost. And I am saved. We burn on our own, not knowing the ways we light for others. If not where, I know why I shine. Read by me. Light my way too.
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Jun 7, 2018 22:40
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Fare thee well, pilgrim Sing out with me Fare thee well, traveler Ride out with me Light tendrils stretch out Looking for the sun The sun, its long set So they'll light our way A horse in a meadow Has pricking-up ears That sound is the morning Returning for us The sky is the landmark Rubbing up against all You can never be lost In riding for dawn Fare thee well, pilgrim Ride out with me Fare thee well, traveler Won't you sing out with me
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Jun 13, 2018 14:12
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A knowing of showered damp hair Fingers for fading moist Water happy on hands A sweet and clean smell But who cares Those fingers would be as happy In a week of hot weather past A strong and lived smell And it's your hair And the only reason For the fingers Is the head where it grows And the head it falls from
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Jun 23, 2018 15:29
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Words dulcet or spit. I find something in them that somehow doesn't seem to exist elsewise. Is that what love is? I don't know. I know there is drive though, inexorable propulsion. Never driven, never like this. This loving impossible journey. This dream that muddies my sleep, and is my first concern on waking. Something part epitaph. Something living more than ever. Sides of a coin And theater masks Allied There is no side without the other. Which is which is my eyes on a given day. Give me another day. And the one after.
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Jun 29, 2018 00:39
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Sulla-Marius 88 posted:suggestions in bold, comments in italic Not at all, I found it very helpful! Thank you!
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Jul 22, 2018 20:58
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