Writer

my heart pulses.

in tune with the world(s)

and their silent stories.

my soul throbs, wrung with the emotion

of a million men.

characters.

I hear the whispers

of untold tales: tendrils

filling the vessel,

waiting to be created.

my black blood spills:

the womb through which

Worlds are born

This is an old poem which some of you may remember from the brief, dark period of time when YWS shut down. Am thinking of revising or fixing it up. Opinions and suggestions wanted.

I like it. It's kind of hard to follow though. Great job.
Pandora

Hi, Jiggity--


I hear the whispers

of untold tales: tendrils

filling the vessel,

waiting to be created.

My black blood spills:

the womb through which

Worlds are born.


Hope this finds you well,
Brad

Thanks, changes implemented.

Firstly I just want to say; This is really good.
And I enjoyed it.


What I liked:


"and their silent stories."

I like the alliteration and how it reminds me of a mime, lol.


"my black blood spills:"

This is powerful imagery, a bit gross but powerful!!!!


What I didn't like:


"the world(s)"
I don't get the s in brackets?


"characters. " Might just me being dense but,

I liked this overall. I think its really good, I see you've worked really hard on this, well done

Lexy xxx

Hahaha, thanks lexy. Tis appreciated.