Replying to a comment on:

the midget of humiliation (Free verse) by Bill Z Bub

Out by the strangletrees in the demonic summer, that's where I lost you. Can't wait for the air to change and I can wear my navy pea coat and hide my stool-pigeon mouth behind wool and steal another quick heartbeat until it melts with the snow. I know I've got one season to believe in when the air is cracked dry like your lips and I can read your breath on the updraft. Maybe when the curse of the summer is over. I could go to some cerulean island where shame punctures this skin to let the stinging sea in.

Mr Pig 1-Mar-03/5:48 AM
You have the beginnings of a sublime work let down only by an inconclusive ending. Now my dear boy try and focus on the ending, irony would fit like a golf glove. For example you detail most beautifully 'nature' and the representation of where you lost her (S1). What you need to do is carry that on taking that beauty then ending it most cruelly with the decadence of human nature. This needs to end in a crescendo of your sufferance, I feel one owes it to ones self to strive for perfection here as this metabolic potential to be a poets poem and that Sire if you are prepared to work on the end, would be a rare endorsement from myself...8




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001