ChaseValentine
on lost... by Tineke
27 Apr 2005, 2:51 PM
Linkin Park? Is that you?
I'm not sure if this is a poem about Furries or Pagans. Either way.
ABAB rhyme schemes are almost never good. It comes off as forced.
A lot of Sound and Fury, as they say.
A native what? American? Is the last stanza supposed to be ironic?
There are subtle touches to this that I like, but they don't go anywhere at all.
Uh...what? Also, hey, whatever happened to Haikus just being, you know, one stanza?
I don't understand what provoked this incendiary response. If it was my poem, please explain how so, for yours is not the reaction I intended to elicit from the reader.
Ooh. This could be good if there were more to it. It seems less like poetry and more like "microfiction."
I liked the part about the Kamikaze pilot names. Everything else is nonsense. And not the good kind, either.
First 2 stanzas are very clever and quite amusing, after that you try to be too clever...let's face it, most people will think you've made a typo when you say 'cresset of the moon'. Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm simply retarded.
Well told story. Why did she do it? - that's the lingering question.
Welcome to poemranker.
Provocative, but lacking whatever it was that connected them and a reason for the love-lilling.
bossa nova is in Portuguese, not Spanish.
There was originally a stanza before the "friend of hers" part about her schmuck husband taking off the closet door to fix it and how they were passionless, etc, but it didn't rate, really. Maybe I should try fixing it.
PS-In my imagining of things, the hall-closet was where they keep porn. I also thought she should be gay or extremely masturbatory at the end.
Verses 1 and 2 flow well. Verse 3 starts a transition (knew is really known or new) "She's a lowland topography to her life" is good. Some lines seem unrelated, like, "a man never lost without thinking
the word new"
That's never the way it works. I'll be all cellulite and desperation, you won't even remove your sportcoat before I blow you.
And besides, I'm married.
Actually, the poem comes from the Negro conversation. If it's impossible for whites to write about blacks fairly, it ought to be impossible for me to write about women fairly. Don't you think?
the first 4 stanzas reeled me in, vivid world. you lost me when you started with her thinking about the lingere--what does that have to do with the lost key? okay, i say, maybe he'll pull it together later, and i read on. and then you offer me the last chance--the scallops on the stove and the half-naked woman--and still, no key. okay, i get it it, but the integrration needs work.
her sudden realization that 'it isn't here'--why is that an 'of course' reaction?
Hey, great title!
You should make the hyphenation consistent. What about "worry-stricken" and "lightning-eyed"?
The votes you get on this poem are probably going to be inversely proportional to how many lumps of dark matter you expect us to ingest.
You're a clever one, aren't you? What are you, like 12?