on Social Awarness by midnitebeauty101
31 Oct 2004, 7:21 AM
This is the sort of thing you should have left on that sheet of lined paper and never bothered to type. It's quite bad, really. I'm sorry for your loss but it does not make for good poetry or moving reading.
This is the very worst thing you could do for the memory of the dead. You are unwittingly generalizing one more dead person and lumping them in with the rest who have had so many bad poems elegizing their deaths.
This poem, while it may be meaningful to you, is meaningless and laughable to the rest of us. If you can believe it, so many kiddies ask me to read poetry just like this expecting me to praise it. I do exactly what I'm doing now. I tell them this kind of poetry, as common as kleenex and as disposable, is exactly why "young creative writers" classes are a bad idea.
If you really want to do justice to the memory of the dead, focus on what made your friend unique in life, instead of what made your friend another badly rhymed "poem" among the rest of the prematurely dead.
This is the very worst thing you could do for the memory of the dead. You are unwittingly generalizing one more dead person and lumping them in with the rest who have had so many bad poems elegizing their deaths.
This poem, while it may be meaningful to you, is meaningless and laughable to the rest of us. If you can believe it, so many kiddies ask me to read poetry just like this expecting me to praise it. I do exactly what I'm doing now. I tell them this kind of poetry, as common as kleenex and as disposable, is exactly why "young creative writers" classes are a bad idea.
If you really want to do justice to the memory of the dead, focus on what made your friend unique in life, instead of what made your friend another badly rhymed "poem" among the rest of the prematurely dead.
on A Wanderlust To The New by fevriere
1 Nov 2004, 7:16 AM
the ! is unnecessary. Sonnets don't need iambic pentameter, but generally (unless they are blank verse sonnets which yours is plainly not) each line needs to rhyme with at least one other somewhere else in the sonnet....blah blah blah. Okay you don't want to hear the formalist shit.
How about the poem has NO meter whatsoever and desparately cries for one.
Also the subject is a bit cliché
How about the poem has NO meter whatsoever and desparately cries for one.
Also the subject is a bit cliché
on A Letter Home by Fear of Garbage
2 Nov 2004, 9:45 AM
The repeating words are straining you
on Poems for devolution by richa
2 Nov 2004, 9:46 AM
Since I know this poem is supposed to mean something, and I don't know what it is, you get the 8 of ambiguity
on Blue by D. $ Fontera
2 Nov 2004, 9:47 AM
Very interesting use of form
on some deleted poem
2 Nov 2004, 9:49 AM
Take out the line breaks and tell it to the bartender
on some deleted poem
2 Nov 2004, 10:07 AM
Your spanish is bad. Sorry.
on Geometry for Dyslexics by zodiac
6 Nov 2004, 11:13 AM
Quite planar if I do say so myself.
Adding the same thing to both sides of "tangled"
like this has made me lean out to my shelf
with parallel hands and take my textbook, spangled
with blots and gum, has made me start the fire
in my hearth early this year. You have made
me take the deadened textbook to its pyre
on logs and mourn it with the spark and spade.
Thank God! I cremated my mathbook after
I'd read this poem, though this poem meant
as much as what it made me burn. The scent
of smoke perfumes the rafters. I'm all laughter:
A math-made poem is as out of whack
as fortune-telling by the zodiac.
though the last stanza or so was really really good and so was the beginning. But a lot of it was needlessly complex. Since I'm a dyslexic, (and no, you didn't "offend" me) this poem I guess missed its point. Though I must say that if it's a dyslexic joke, it's quite funny.
Adding the same thing to both sides of "tangled"
like this has made me lean out to my shelf
with parallel hands and take my textbook, spangled
with blots and gum, has made me start the fire
in my hearth early this year. You have made
me take the deadened textbook to its pyre
on logs and mourn it with the spark and spade.
Thank God! I cremated my mathbook after
I'd read this poem, though this poem meant
as much as what it made me burn. The scent
of smoke perfumes the rafters. I'm all laughter:
A math-made poem is as out of whack
as fortune-telling by the zodiac.
though the last stanza or so was really really good and so was the beginning. But a lot of it was needlessly complex. Since I'm a dyslexic, (and no, you didn't "offend" me) this poem I guess missed its point. Though I must say that if it's a dyslexic joke, it's quite funny.
Extremely campy, an example of the botanical mawkishness with which all mediocre poets are to some degree suffused. Sorry to break it to you but this poem isn't great. Poems about flowers are tired and pallid. I have a feeling you're going to retaliate with "well I write about what I want to write about...etc. etc." Fine, but understand that I've read third-rate poems like this by the dozen. I'm not trying to be a curmudgeon, just honest. My sympathy begets you a 6
on Stayed Too Long by poetryman
8 Nov 2004, 5:08 PM
I dont know if you understand what a prose poem is, but this poem is not in prose. The insipid religiousness is not at all to my taste, but I wont bother commenting on it. The "heart/apart" rhyme is simply clumsy. It is things like that free-verse proponents point to and laugh at when they have their derisory little diatribes on rhyme. The last line or two are okay I guess. The above/love rhyme is terrible. As far as I know English is cursed with quite a paucity of perfect rhymes for love: above, of, "dove" if you feel like raiding the dovecots of the muse and "shove" or "glove" if the thought can be made to absorb either, and Russian names like "Lermontov" and "Nochnikov." Anyway, it's generally a good idea not to have to rhyme on love.
Okay I'm done.
Okay I'm done.
on Mind's Eye by Sean Allen
8 Nov 2004, 5:11 PM
Points for trying. Though you might want to look up the meaning of "iambic pentameter." You seem to have forgotten the Iambic part.
on some deleted poem
1 Jan 2005, 11:23 AM
A thoughtful prayer. However, the whole "The lord is my shepherd" thing has been so done.
on Reincarnation by Dovina
18 Apr 2005, 9:52 PM
"Model of truth" is superfluous
Third stanza can go.
Third stanza can go.
on some deleted poem
15 Aug 2005, 10:03 AM
Your sincerity has not saved this poem. It is riddled with lines that belong more on a motivational poster than in a poem.
A poem needs to have words chosen and arranged with some art, and some power. You are relying on the emotion of your divorce to have the impact and leaving the words dead on the page. Instead of simply expressing whatever feelings flow through your head, try to sublimate those feelings into novel wordings and phrasings that really capture your feelings not with meaning but with effect.
A poem needs to have words chosen and arranged with some art, and some power. You are relying on the emotion of your divorce to have the impact and leaving the words dead on the page. Instead of simply expressing whatever feelings flow through your head, try to sublimate those feelings into novel wordings and phrasings that really capture your feelings not with meaning but with effect.
on Hiding by x babie alison x
15 Aug 2005, 10:10 AM
This is more prose than poetry. Although it sounded pretty cool when I had my friend read it with a Pakistani accent while I was stoned out of my mind.
on some deleted poem
15 Aug 2005, 10:12 AM
You are hurting
on Let Go by nicole081083
15 Aug 2005, 10:13 AM
This poem is dead on the page, give it some life, something worth reading.
on Secret Dream-Thoughts of a Married Man by Bethy
15 Aug 2005, 12:58 PM
I'm not sure the jagged metrics work for this poem. Excellent use of everlast as a verb (or possibly a noun)
I tried shaping it up a little. It's a bit better this way I think:
This path I travel down is worn
old leaves are crunched beneath my feet
A newer me would be reborn.
My walk began. I was forlorn
In feeling I was lost and beat.
The path I traveled down was worn
In the late nights I'd look out and mourn-
Look out my window; down my street
A newer me will be reborn.
My heart gets tugged until it's torn
Whose tearing makes me incomplete
This path I travel down is worn.
The night departs, its promise sworn
And I arise for day is fleet.
A newer me will be reborn
With the new day whose newer morn
Readies me for a newer feat.
For this path I travel down is worn.
A newer me must be reborn.