The Photographed Suitcase

Photographed walls, scented with
Joy’s perfume.

Pleasures which lead to another,
Moments captured and embraced.

All of a sudden, no warning at all.
A black light crawls among the pleasant.
Cruel instincts, distorted tricks
Affecting few but fracturing many.

Once a photographed wall, once a
Pleasant face.

Nothing left, no remains, yet cold
And solid the pleasant stays.

Pleasure once went, pleasure once came,
But pleasure once forgot:

"The Photographed Suitcase"

Well done!

Ahoy!

I quite like the first line- it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and the poem could do a little more to have it make sense, but it's a good first line nonetheless.

So- one of my beefs is with the second stanza. How are these moments being 'captured and embraced'? You said the walls were being photographed, not the moments- so mention if the 'photography' works for something that's happening within the walls.

The next section is confusing. Why? Black light= one of those little rods that give off purple light and you see bright spots where germs, etcetera are. The way you have it presented here is with creeping dread- as if the black light itself is the thing causing harm, not what lies underneath. Distinguish what the danger source is. (And if you meant er...black light in the literal sense, describe it! Description is always good.)

The 'cruel instincts, distorted tricks' was a brilliant line. Great job on that.

And of course- you followed up with a great ending. Bravo!

My last suggestion, though- don't start each line with a capital letter. It's not doing anything to improve your flow, which is something that might need a little looking after in this poem.

Hmmm...

I think you're being overly vague in the beginning. Okay... so Joy's perfume and pleasant faces. That's nice. Still, it doesn't give us an image in our heads where we can say, "Aha! That's what's she talking about!"

You're trying to give an impression that something is joyous and wonderful and then suddenly -- oh no! -- the feeling is destroyed. Well, if you want me to think that it's joyous, then you have to use descriptive language to not only tell me that it is, in fact, joyous, but show me how it is joyous. How are these photographs beautiful? What's so special about this place? What imagery do you want me to see?

So before ou try to effect a mood out of me, show me what it was before and contrast it with what it is now.