z

Young Writers Society



Talent

by mrmotley



Im tired of the that together make immesurable mounds of youthful locks or bring the minds and appearances of others of them talented or proof read among the streets of their so-called so-what scity-scape who’s only real purpose for is the big apple stores the hamelys gift mops of chosen profession X Waltzing and striding out onto that spotlit centre; “looks like gun gray there”


Confuses me stifles the creation of the imagination hidden in those crevasses the tired ones only dream about is what O’Tool said to me from the book sits on table empty of pencils and keys and only glass transparent like the plate I’m looking through to the tired ones.


Lame lame lame goes the bell on the behind me.


Standing prone against a sea over which I Spy with my little a glimmer of what I would want-be black lines stop lift my pen from page shuffle it the pile. 

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413 Reviews

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Wed Mar 07, 2012 2:52 am
Cailey wrote a review...



Hey, I'm here to review! First of all, I just want to tell you that this was really confusing. As a way to clear it up I would suggest punctuation and maybe breaking it up into stanzas and shorter lines. That would also help it look more like poetry. I also would suggest some editting, maybe I was just reading it wrong, but it seemed like there were quite a few typos, which make it hard to read. The meaning gets lost when the grammar is bad. I liked the repetition of the word lame, I also liked the last line, but at the same time it was still really choppy and unclear and confusing. Try to read this out loud and figure out what you are trying to say and how to say it.
Most of all, keep reading and writing.





'Tis the season to shovel enormous amounts of watermelon into your mouth while hunched over the cutting board like a dehydrated vampire that hasn't fed on blood in four hundred years and the only viable substitute is this questionable Christmas-colored fruit.
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