Though the last three stanzas are good, the "Sparkbook" appellations make me think this poem should be entitles "14 ways of looking at Bow'ls"

Now I've got to hand it to you. Anyone who's second on the recent list with a ranker average of over 6 is worth something. Although I fail to see in this anything that would sound semi-decent only when accompanied by a guitar. Therefore: Bow'ls. But -10-

Some lines were a little awkward but I'm not as into style and grammar as most people on this site are-for me poetry is about expressing what you need to express-I felt and connect with what you were expressing-for that-well done, I enjoyed this.

I refuse to argue anymore with any of you. This is all pointless. People's opinions and beliefs differ depending on the person. No one is right or wrong. Sasha I don't know why you're so hung up on trying to bring me down...My goal isn't to try to impress others, I've already stated that. But you can't expect me at 16 to have experienced "all there is" and to have grown enough to "meet your standards" of what a "good" poem is. This arguing is all really childish and thats why I'm at least ending my half of it here.

You sound like a combination between a drunk and a bad stand-up comedian

Oh, and, because this word has amused me so much: Bow'ls

Bow'ls

Bow'ls

Great use of 'cried' to rhyme with 'side', but was her head really hung in defeat? I doubt it. You just needed her head to be hung in something that rhymed with 'feet'.

Pam wyt ty'n sgrifennu'n gymraeg? Naill ai yn Gymraeg neu yn Saenseg, mae dy ysgrifen heb dull a heb pwynt. (Does ddim pwynt sgrifennu fel twpsyn) ond....Pam lai?

Samuel Becket dit qu'ecrire en français le permit d'ecrire sans style. Eh bien, je ne parle pas tres bien français, Donc il me faudra une autre langue seconde pour Mettre sa theorie à la preuve: Voyez-vous, il n'y a guère style là: Moins qu'en "Waiting for Godot"

Mae dy haiku yn dda

Try Trowsus yn Gymraeg

Try Trowsus yn Gymraeg

A festering phlegm-wod.

You are a snot gobbler. In no way does this endless mass of cuntbutter deserve anything above an 8. This poem is a narcissistic mess and the imagery is some of the weakest I have ever read.

This good, I like the attempt to bring in the sounds of the situation. And it makes me think of 'Lady Godiva's Operation' by the Velvet Underground, which is a great song. Here comes the moment of great decision As the doctor is making his first incision.

I've always assumed that, in the original, the half rhyme was meant to imply that really Dr. Foster had stepped in a piddle right up to his middle, and it was in fact a sewage related incident.

You fail at everything that requires making a distinction between two fairly similar things. This poeme does not undo your failure.

The best part is the spiders that cover you like insects.