Poetry for all to enjoy!

[rhiactor]

Hello, I found this section seriously lacking in poetry, so here is some poetry for your enjoyment.

[u] FADING COLORS[/u]

My face falls into the pillow,
The weeping has begun.
As darkness falls,
I start to feel at home,
Hours pass,
With the ticking of the clock,
Sunlight fades,
Night is coming.
My eyes droop,
I'm asleep,
And I'm falling,
Into an endless pit.
My figure blurs,
I'm being destroyed,
Slowly, so slowly.
I'm in my past,
Going through the files of my life.
My grades start to slide,
When I start to loose myself,
When my colors begin to fade.
I cry out in my slumber,
"Help me"
I wake up,
"Help me!" I whisper,
Tears run down my face once more.
A breath in the blackness,
Solitary, alone,
"please, someone, just help me..."
"Please, help..."

[u]SHADES OF BLACK[/u]

She's lying down,
Her nice clothes on,
Eyes shut,
Lips slightly parted,
In a silk lined bed,
Forevermore.
Her last moments,
Filled with regret,
Rememberance of pain,
Needles, powder,
Pills and joints.
They brought her pleasure,
And then her death.
She tried to get help,
But it was too late,
The drugs had swallowed her soul,
She was being eaten alive,
Consumed by addiction.
Shades of black,
Surround her coffin,
Clouds of family and friends.
Mother weeping,
Father angry,
Sister in a state of shock.
She hated herself,
Body and mind,
But the answers she trusted,
Weren't the answers,
And now her body,
Cold and lifeless,
Is surrounded,
By shades of black.


Sorry it's not edited so well, these are just rough drafts. Yes, they are supposed to be dark ad gloomy, no the second poem isn't about someone that I knew. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE give me some critisism, nobody in my creative writing class will give me anything to revise, they only give me praise.


[/u][u][/u][u][/u]

[Jaques the Off-White]

A quick reaction on "story line" and then more as I take some time to break it all down for structure and flow :compute:...

"She tried to get help,
But it was too late,"

I like the idea, but it seems to butt against the later line that " She hated herself, Body and mind."

If she truly hated herself, then she would have never sought help. What makes could make this all the more tragic is that she was starting to turn things around by seeking help and either no one supported her, or took her seriously, or cared enough to do either.

I would work on developing "her" as a sympathetic character so the audience can identify with the character you already know in your head, but haven’t fully portrayed on paper.

[Jaques the Off-White]

"I'm in my past,
Going through the files of my life.
My grades start to slide,
When I start to loose myself,
When my colors begin to fade.
I cry out in my slumber,
"Help me"
I wake up,
"Help me!" I whisper,"

This part is strong and perhaps holds the key to making this a stronger piece. It gives the reader a clue as to the purpose of the emotion in the poem, why what’s happening is happening.

I also like the basic plot device of the poem, reality playing out in a dream, the internal beginning to pry its way out into the external. I would encourage you to continue to bring the poem’s internal out onto the paper even more; I like the action, but I want to know "why." Of course, the "narrator" of the poem (which, as you say, doesn't have to be you or someone you know) may not fully understand what the dream and emotions mean, but a few teasers keep readers interested and give us a sense of what you are intending with your imagery.

Just some thoughts...

[Jaques the Off-White]

Quiet Man

1.
His form is slightly gaunt.
His hair is all but gone.
His eyes are grey, but still
Give off a spark of blue.
His hands are brown with age,
And spots show now on top
Of muscles in decline.
A flanel shirt hangs by
His desk and keeps him warm
When things get cold, but in
His eyes, his greying eyes,
You see that spark of blue.

2.
His eyes are still
But moving back
And seeing things as they once were,
His daughter young again.
The lack of years show in her eyes,
Unbridled joy and happiness
Flow from her hands onto his skin,
Her arms wrapped 'round
His neck so tight he'd hardly breath
If breath were on his mind,
But all he knows is what she knows
The joy of "daddy's home!"

3.
The ring on his left hand
Has been their for a while.
A simple band of gold
Shines like it's never gone
A day without a little work
To keep it in its prime.
A smile here and there
Escapes his lips while on
The phone still polishing his ring
With kind soft words of love.
Contentment's on the other end
Still polishing her ring.

----

These are in rough order, but I'm still working on these and trying to finish up some connecting pieces. Any thoughts.

[Rebeckle]

Rhiactor,

I don't know what your intentions are for your writing, but a typical publication-aimed workshop-type criticism might look somethign like this:

SHADES OF BLACK

She's lying down,
Her nice clothes on,
Eyes shut,
Lips slightly parted,
In a silk lined bed,
Forevermore.
Her last moments,
Filled with regret,
Rememberance of pain,
Needles, powder,
Pills and joints.
They brought her pleasure,
And then her death.
She tried to get help,
But it was too late,
The drugs had swallowed her soul,
She was being eaten alive,
Consumed by addiction.
Shades of black,
Surround her coffin,
Clouds of family and friends.
Mother weeping,
Father angry,
Sister in a state of shock.
She hated herself,
Body and mind,
But the answers she trusted,
Weren't the answers,
And now her body,
Cold and lifeless,
Is surrounded,
By shades of black.


Sorry it's not edited so well, these are just rough drafts. Yes, they are supposed to be dark ad gloomy, no the second poem isn't about someone that I knew. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE give me some critisism, nobody in my creative writing class will give me anything to revise, they only give me praise.


[/u]

Just some sort of generalized poetry advice I've been given and have given often... good rules of thumb:

Look out for unbalanced abstractions like "regret" and "pain". There should be a concrete image... something that a reader can concieve of seeing or touching, rather than a direct statement of emotion. The trick is to get the reader to feel a certain way without telling them how that is. Poems that say, "She was sad" rather than giving us evidence of her sadness instead, run the risk of sounding "telly". You might just consider cutting the poem back. You have to "kill your babies" as the quote says. Concision and economy of language can go miles in improving a poem. For example, I think you could leave out "forevermore" altogether. The situation (that she won't be waking up) is clear enough from the context.

For your consideration (just some specific suggestions to illustrate--take or leave):

SHADES OF BLACK

She's lying down, (You don't need "down". Few people Lie "up", right?)
Her nice clothes on, (Initially, I thought if you changed the first line, this would have to be reworded so that lying doesn't seem to imply "being dishonest, however, that would establish a sort of mystery as to what's going on, and suspense is never bad for a poem).
Eyes shut,
Lips slightly parted, ("slightly" is an extra word that trips up the reading)
In a silk lined bed,
Forevermore. (this can go.)
Her last moments,
Filled with regret, (here's those two abstractions)
Rememberance of pain,
Needles, powder,
Pills and joints.
They brought her pleasure, (all of this can go without hurting the story, I think, and it solves the problem addressed earlier.)
And then her death.
She tried to get help,
But it was too late,
The drugs had swallowed her soul, (I think "soul swallowed" is sufficient. We know it was drugs.)
She was being eaten alive, (why do you need "being" here? Sounds like she WAS eaten alive).
Consumed by addiction. (we already know this too. "consumed" is redundant after "eaten alive".)
Shades of black,
Surround her coffin,
Clouds of family and friends.
Mother weeping,
Father angry,
Sister in a state of shock. (parallel structure would ask for "sister shocked", which has better sonics than "sister in a state of shock").
She hated herself, (this is apparent... you don't need to tell us)
Body and mind,
But the answers she trusted,
Weren't the answers,
And now her body,
Cold and lifeless,
Is surrounded,
By shades of black.

Use or lose, as you see fit.

[A thoughtfull process]

one of my hobbies is poetry so i thought id post my latest one on here. Im afraid its rather depressing as i wasnt in the best of moods when i wrote it!

Darkness shrouds existance
Self-pitying cries echo round the walls of life
Cowering in the shadows
A mere mortal grasps to oversome such strife

Drowning in his sorrows
Pointless hope overun and overpowered
Reflecting trickles glisten
An imagination well flowered

Longing to escape
Warped reality feeds the mind
Manufactured illusions
Shining ideology to he that is blind

Thoughts and critisisms would be very much appreciated

[Jaques the Off-White]

You speak of "walls" and "reflecting trickles." I'm not sure why I thought of a bathroom... except that it's the only room I've known to have reflective objects (possibly a mirror for self inspection/introspection) and water.

I like the imagery and emotion of the poem, but it seems a bit too vague. In particular, the poem's sense of place or "where is this guy?" isn't formed enough to give the poem its full impact.

I know that you may not want to place the narrator somewhere specific as the action may be taking place entirely in someone's head (in which case, anything goes), but one of my professors once told me that "even imaginary gardens need a few real toads." It helps the reader connect to what you're thinking in your head, the unspokens that make this poem "real" to you.

I wonder if you're being too reserved and concise in this poem. Each line is so stuffed with meaning that it feels cramped. My suggestion would be to use each line as the beginning of a new stanza. Unpack your ideas and let them grow on the page.

...just a few of my tired thoughts. :compute:

[A thoughtfull process]

im very grateful for your thoughts. firstly Id like to clarify that 'walls' refers to the entrapment of life and reflecting trickles is a reference to 'tears', which indeed would probably occur in a bathroom.
Though i desagree with you that the fact the poem isnt formed 'enough' doesnt give it its full impact. Its meant to be a reflection of the thoughts of the mind and i therefore think this makes it more effective. I agree maybe it could do with some work as it only took me 15 minutes. On the view that the poem is too stuffed with meaning, this is intentional so that the reader doesnt totally understand the poem and is therefore forced to think about it after reading it which i also feel is effective.

[Jaques the Off-White]

Second Time 'Round
No more panic, no sleeplesness
No "how-do-I-even-begin"
I've done this once, I've got it down
I know what to expect... so why am I
Anxiously nervously hesitent
To dive back into what I've known
My name is "dad"
No matter who calls out my name
The second time 'round

[rhiactor]

HELLO EVERYONE! Sorry I haven't posted back in ages, I have been grounded for the past two months, then the internet went down. Thanks for all the advice, I am currently revising my poems. Also, does anyone have any ideas about why I cannot seem to get enything to be underlined, I only end up with the [u] thing. Got to go, it's my sister's turn on the computer

[The Meromorph]

On Relationships.

I have a rubber plant
next to my desk.
Tall and green
and bigger than I am,
it often leans a careless leaf
on my shoulder as I work.
Friendly, like.

Sometimes I like to run my thumbnail
into it's soft green flesh
and watch the white sap bleed
and flow
and pool.
coagulate.

But mostly we just sit there.
Friendly, like.

[Jaques the Off-White]

I love the phrase "friendly, like." It invokes a whimsical relationship that is almost coy, a wonderfully open playground within the restrictions of the cubical. Ironically, the isolation which is meant to focus work precipitates closed worlds of imagination.

[Jaques the Off-White]

I just reread the post and realized that you never mentioned a cubical... I still like the phrase and the implied relationship.

[The Meromorph]

I wrote it back in '68 in an 'open plan' office environment, before cubicles were in general use, though the same effect was achieved with flat panel screens and potted plants.
Thanks for your comments, that's been a steady favorite for years. I am much in favor of poetry being like japanese drawing, an economy of line can say so much more than a tidal wave of words.

[Judas_Wizard]

These are a couple of the poems I have written over the past year. Hope you all enjoy them.

A Hole in the World

I should have seen it sooner,
It’s like a chasm where all the
Joy of life is sucked beneath
Waves of nothingness.

You’ll notice it when you can’t feel your heart in your chest
It’s like reading words of rage on the page of a madman
Trying and failing to fill that space.

It’s a bottomless pit of secrets and lies
Where true love can be bought
And people can be taught that
They belong to those who will
Use, abuse and confuse us all

We should have seen it sooner
All of those corporate giants
Making us stupid and pliant
Glued to our daily gore

This empty place they make in our souls
Leaves us spinning round and round on a broken record
And when the music stops we’re too dizzy to
Find a chair before they’re all taken

We should have seen it sooner
There’s a Hole in the World

The Window

Her eyes,
Like pools of dispassionate sorrow,
Stare blindly through the pane of the window.

Her laugh,
Seems so sincere and honest,
But her eyes lack and the laughter that she makes.

But behind the sunken eyes and plastered smiles,
The most wonderful woman in the world,
Lies sleeping,
Just dreaming.

She’s waiting
For her chance to shine so brightly
And show the world her heart and inner power

She’ll show you,
Her inner fire melt mountains
Lighting others all around her, set aflame

And behind her tinted veils and laden eyes,
The most wonderful woman in the world,
Is sitting
Staring out The Window