This could definitely use some expansion. What exactly did the narrator do to make him/her think this way? There definitely seems like there's a backstory that we need to know in order to truly know where you're coming from.
... What am I saying? I love short poetry (it's not as much to read, and it keeps my interest).
Hmm, sorry to say but I didn't like this, just becuase it's short I think you have not given it what it deserves. I dunno, to me it was just a peice of writing plonked there, it didn't mean anything and well It might just be me but meh.
Maybe make it longer? Like keep this bit, or add more to it?
I read your piece, "Ode To Burnt Toast", and I liked it so much that I figured that all your poetry much be awesome. So, when I saw this, I opened it without a second thought.
I like it, except the almost-rhyme between "hell" and "full" rubs me the wrong way. Is there any way you could re-word it to avoid that? (You don't have to, really, it's probably a matter of personal preference.)
Critique two of five. This one is very short, so there's only so much I can say here. I apologise for that, I just chose this one as you said you'd prefer me to look at some of the older material, and I think I'm better at critiquing poetry, so that's what I'm trying to stick with.
I agree with Meep about the half rhyme. (Words that rhyme with "hell" off the top of my head: bell, cell, fell, tell, well.)
This was a straight-forward little piece, and you said what you set out to say, but could you try showing us rather than telling us? Coule you maybe suggest that you're "not good enough for heaven" and "not bad enough for hell" by giving us images and examples, that is to say, suggest it rather than state it?
Hope this helps.
Jas
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
ok so far i have liked all your work! your funny and extreamly original! its good to see something new!
lulu
ps hope to see more!!!!!
I open my lunch box Hopin' to find a sandwich, an apple some cookies or cake but there, coiled and hissin' and set to unwind Is anouther big venemous poisonous snake leaving me hungry as can be you think my mother's mad at me?
The bigger the issue, the smaller you write. Remember that. You don’t write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid’s burnt socks lying on the road. You pick the smallest manageable part of the big thing, and you work off the resonance. — Richard Price
