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I Go On (Free verse) by drumrgirl30 I keep my feelings to myself
Emotions boxed up, on a shelf.
My face may never show pain,
though tears in my heart fall like rain.
Cool as ice , on the outside I must be
Never breaking, but solid as a tree.
Bending slightly with life's wind
Then standing straight and strong again.
I save my tears and fears for the night,
Keeping my pain and worry out of sight.
Waking in silence with the dawn.
With no word of complaint;
I go on.
Up the ladder:
| Broken Memory |
Down the ladder:
Someday Soon
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.5
Posted: January 26, 2004 8:41 AM PST; Last modified: January 26, 2004 8:41 AM PSTWeighted score: 5.4034123 Overall Rank: 3108 Comments:
[7]
richa @ 81.178.200.103
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26-Jan-04/10:45 AM
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Reply
a bit cliched, I quite like the way you've stopped the poem dead at the end.
With no word of complaint, save for the disgustingly self-absorbed, attention-seeking, whining poetry I secrete on a daily basis;
I go on.
well..what is poetry if not a reflection of ourselves & our emotions?
I don't know where people get the idea that the definition of poetry is writing about your thoughts, feelings and emotions. In fact I do know where they get it - they get it from being stupid and believing the first thing they hear that sounds 'deep'. Look it up in a dictionary. It's besides the point anyway, since what I was trying to convey is that your perception of yourself - as the sort who struggles through life without complaining - is utterly wrong, since you're actually the sort of person who is completely incapable of writing poetry that isn't about how terrible their suffering is.
Dear drumrgirl30,
Taking into account the previous comments about your poem, I suggest you rewrite the first two lines as follows: Except insofar as I post poems about my feelings on a poetry website called poemranker.com, I keep my feelings to myself. Except insofar as I splatter my emotions around the Internet willy-nilly like some sort of deranged Harris, I keep my emotions boxed up on a metaphorical internal shelf. This rewrite will no doubt improve your credibility and your reputation for accuracy. It will, however, render the rest of the poem redundant. Accordingly, I suggest that lines 3 to 13 inclusive are scrapped altogether. Yours &c. Enderby Throbbington-Smythe Esq.
thank-you for your advise...however, if i did that it would not be MY poem anymore, but merely words taken from someone else. :)
Advice. Not advise. 'Advice' is a noun, 'to advise' is a verb. Perhaps a mastery of these linguistic subtleties (such as basic grammar) would be a worthwhile acquisition before you next decide to splurge another 13 lines of staggeringly awful shite on to the web. Next to this a Nigerian scam email reads like one of Shakespeares finest.
DEAR SIR I COMMEND MYSELF TO YOU FOR I A RELATIVE OF THE DECEASED MORGAN TSVANGIRAI ENTREAT YOU TO JOIN WITH ME IN A CONFIDENTIAL BUSINESS PROPOSITION MILLIONS OF DOLLARS CAN BE YOURS I NEED ONLY: YOUR BANK DETAILS YOUR EMAIL YOUR HOME TELEPHONE NUMBER YOUR COMPLETE AND BREATHTAKINGLY STUPID TRUST AND CREDULITY. At least there is some elegance to the language. AND arbitrary linebreaks. Without which NO poem is complete. And another thing. If you are an American logged in to this site can I point out that: "I could care less about that" Means that you ascribe an amount of care greater than or equal to some arbitrarily small, positive epsilon. What you mean to say is: "I couldn't care less about that" Which means that you care an amount less than some arbtrarily small epsilon. Meaning that for any positive amount of care, you care less. This is a rigorous definition of not caring. Could you please all take this on board? And in more general terms, think hard about the grammatical structure of what your write before you click on the 'submit' button.
How dare you defecate all over this poor girl's poeme? Is it not enough that she has been mocked and shamed to the point of lunacy, so that her life's work now resembles little more than a pathetic smear on the toilet bowl of literature? And you... you with your linguistic subtleties and your arbitrarily small epsilons come swaggering in, jodhpurs flying at half-mast, coiling out absurdly bulging specimens all o'er the outhouse floor, like some sort of bizarre dung cannon, blasting what little remains of her awestruck dumplings into oblivion. No, yours are not the proudest buttocks in the land - far from it - yet you flaunt them menacingly, a shame unto their jodhpurs, goading all those that would dare take two sheets of paper instead of one into partially wiped submission. Begone from this town, foul stainmonger, ere the precious outhouse crumbles 'neath your wanton barrage.
There is only one Goad.
At least, only one with a capital 'G'.
actually since my poetry seems to offend your delicate senses, its probably a good thing that i dont write very often. The 2 poem i have on here were written years ago. I only posted them to see what others might think. I knew there would be reviews such as yours & others. But since you dont believe that poetry is about thoughts or feelings, please enlighten me as to what poetry really is, in your opinion
Drumrgirl30, step outside of yourself and consider: When a child whines, why does it whine? Because it feels an emotion or desire or hurt that is extremely important to it, and it feels a strong urge to communicate that emotion to others. And how do people respond to whining children? Do they ever respond positively? Do you?
Why is this? -- it's because learning more constructive responses to pain than whining is an important part of development. As true in poetry, whatever level you're at, as life. Whining won't ever get you a positive response from fellow poetry writers, any more than whining works in life. It may garner you accolades from your fellow angst-ridden teenagers, but your better off communicating with them in a blog, not here. Here you will just be mocked. Why? again, consider life. What's the best way to quickly train a child not to whine? Mockery and derision. Perhaps cruel, but it works. This does not mean it is forbidden to express personal pain in poetry. Au contraire. We're all gluttons for creatively expressed deep down trauma hound pain. We simply have more sophisticated tastes in our consumption of angst than the sound of a whining child. This isn't snobbery, but the built-in instinctive human reaction to whining.
An oozing codpiece of ignorance.
Stop whining. I'll change your codpiece later.
as i have said before, this poem was written years ago..about how i once felt, but not anymore. I realize that this may not have been the best poem to present on this site, but whats done is done. I cant go back & re-do it. I thought the poem expressed that time in my life well, but obviously this was one that was meant to stay "for my eyes only". My thanks for your constructive critisism.
Your gregariousness is unseemly, and has got you into trouble again. Keep yourself covered up, in future. Nobody wants to look at the dirty, naughty little girl. When you are about the house, and Master is at home, and not attending to The Important Matters Of The Towne (of which you remain wholly ignorant), then stay in your room until he leaves. If you must move about in order to complete your chores, keep your head lowered, and drape a thick shawl o'er your face
"I cant go back & re-do it"
What the fuck are you talking about? What, are you afraid if you edit it your head will explode?
"Cool as ice , on the outside I must be..." When you have to invert like that, you need a new rhyme. All of the rest of the language is normal, which makes it really stick out.
thank-you for the advice..i welcome it. Life is a forever learning process :)
slant rhyme, enjambment, please use these techniques
this is also a great candidate for the split couplet form and i think it would really pick up the pace and fit your theme well also, show us WHY you feel this way and have to keep it all bottled inside
thank-you..i will look into it..as i am new to most poetry terms, it will take some time to find which type best suits my poetry.
....felt that once...makes me recall bootcamp #*&$%+!
Luckily I can laugh about it now....E
The last thing we can afford to be as writers is our own sensitive swooning stereotypes. Think of this as boot camp, drumrgrl, and go on.
The problem with beginning a poem with rhymes is that you set your reader up to expect them. When you broke the last line, you disturbed those expectations. That is fine if it is deliberate, but you need tighter verse and better rhythm to convince the reader that you didn't simply make a mistake.
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