Antique Rain

x

Hi, Hannah! I'm Music and I'll be your reviewer today.

Silken birds in crystal trees
sway back and forth in waxen breeze
preserved with trace of antique rain.

Pale blue curtains cling to life
as daddy once clung to his wife,
though cheating hearts spawned only pain.

In navy dark, when thoughts, like wood,
dissembled with dream termites, could
he make her love him, she'd be true. This one read a bit awkwardly for me... Maybe it's just my ability to mess up poems aloud.

But broken-china-coated floors
spoke volumes more than closed-up doors;
the years and days, how fast they flew.

Before I scare could understand,
my grandma took my painted hand
and took the acetone to me.

Both nails and memories she stole My favorite line, right there. Perfect.
but left to me a quilt-wrapped hole:
lace tablecloth's too bourgeoisie.

Hi! Okay, I really liked this poem. Nice use of words. Haha. I saw the images perfectly to my head. I'm not very good at reviewing poetry, but you should know you did a nice job.

Gold star for you, darling!

Love,
Music.

okay so i have NO idea what this poem is talking about but it is ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS. i LOVE it totally totally LOVE it. i dont know, your language is just ridiculously lovely and i had such a fun time reading it. i like the rhyme scheme cause its not like... i dont know..."standard" i guess. you dont see that pattern alot i guess is what i mean, and im all for unique.

so yea, amazing job

Hello, my name is Colt. Overall, I was awed. The description was lively and amazing. It was better than the title made it out to be.

I would change the title. It screams old and boring to me.

Some parts, especially the one music_lover_7311 pointed out were awkward to read. I'd cut it out or rephrase it.

You "broke" the law of rhyme scheme, hehe. I don't see it much when it goes AAB, CCD, etc....)

I really liked it. Good job! Bravo!

Hannah-twin! I will write you a haiku poem before I review this:

Oh yeah, Hannah-twin,
so me and her for the win,
she kicks major bum.

---

I'm not particularly the savviest at reviewing poetry, so I'll go stanza by stanza in order to extract my thoughts:

Silken birds in crystal trees
sway back and forth in waxen breeze
preserved with trace of antique rain.

I don't really like the use of "silken" -- I think the more simple "Silk birds" works much better, when it comes to the flow and actual sound of the poem. Antique rain? The remnants of a rain that fell along time ago? I can see it.

Pale blue curtains cling to life
as daddy once clung to his wife
though cheating hearts spawned only pain.

I think another syllable is needed in the first line, because it sounds too short right now, too stunted compared to the other two lines. Maybe specific "my life", or maybe you don't want to mention a narrator.

In navy dark, when thoughts, like wood,
dissembled with dream termites, could
he make her love him, she'd be true.

Whoa, this is strange imagery. I think you need something different then a comma in the second line. Perhaps consider rephrasing it something like this:
dissembled with dream termites - could
he make her love him? She'd be true.

But broken-china-coated floors
spoke volumes more than closed-up doors;
the years and days, how fast they flew.

This has a lot of meaning in it, I like it.

Before I scarce could understand
my grandma took my painted hand
and took the acetone to me.

This poem is steadily become awesome!

Both nails and memories she stole
but left to me a quilt-wrapped hole:
lace tablecloth's too bourgeoisie.

So -- she removed her nail polish? I hope I'm right here, haha, or I'll feel silly.

I'm going to take an attempt to guess at what this poem means. From reading it, I think this shows a dysfunctional family structure, and its pressing effects on the narrator. From events (cheating) to judgments (the grandma taking her painted hand), the narrator is being effected by her family structure.

Which I really, really like. This is an amazing poem, Hannah.

~ Clo

Hi Hannah! I'm Claery, and I shall be your reviewer for today! ^^

Silken birds in crystal trees

sway back and forth in waxen breeze

preserved with trace of antique rain.



Pale blue curtains cling to life

as daddy once clung to his wife

though cheating hearts spawned only pain.



In navy dark, when thoughts, like wood,

dissembled with dream termites, could

he make her love him, she'd be true. [This read a bit akwardly for me. It might all be in my head, but it didn't make much sense!]



But broken-china-coated floors

spoke volumes more than closed-up doors;

the years and days, how fast they flew.



Before I scarce could understand

my grandma took my painted hand

and took the acetone to me.



Both nails and memories she stole

but left to me a quilt-wrapped hole:

lace tablecloth's too bourgeoisie. [Just wondering, but what's a "bourgeoisie"? (Apparently my vocabulary needs improving.) I heard the term before, but... well, you get my point]

Overall, this was good! Great in fact. Gold star material, no doubt about it! Awesome work!

- Claery

I think i get it... had to read it three times mind you... but I think that is what makes a good poem. It needs exploring, and is enriched because of it.

But anyways...

Man, this was beautiful. Top stuff, imagery and rhyme was fantastic, you just sprawled ideas everywhere and turned it into an incredibly vivid picture, while managing to hit an abstract rhyme. wow.

Silken birds in crystal trees
sway back and forth in waxen breeze
preserved with trace of antique rain.
i get its a metaphor but I couldn't quite pick it.... antique rain=<3

Pale blue curtains cling to life
as daddy once clung to his wife
though cheating hearts spawned only pain.
Again a metaphor I didn't pick up (pale blue curtains)

In navy dark, when thoughts, like wood,
dissembled with dream termites, could
he make her love him, she'd be true.
I am thinking that this stanza took you the longest; its still slightly awkward so you could have another look, but considering what is actually written, I would say you have pulled it off. I would put in a semi-colon after termites though.

But broken-china-coated floors
spoke volumes more than closed-up doors;
the years and days, how fast they flew.
best stanza, stunning

Before I scarce could understand grammatically incorrect, but I don't care if you don't lol... it works fine.
my grandma took my painted hand
and took the acetone to me.

Both nails and memories she stole <3
but left to me a quilt-wrapped hole:
lace tablecloth's too bourgeoisie.
I didn't get the end and I'm frustrated! I'm off to look up bourgeoise now, (but turning into an adjective was a nice touch) but I had no idea what a 'quilt-wrapped hole' could be. :-S


This was really good though.... even though I didn't get all of it
Shrouded in the imagery is a really poignant story, and though familial breakdown isn't new, you did it in a fresh and abstract way... which I loved.
I will definitely be keeping an eye out for more of your stuff
gold star for sure...

Brendan

nice...

I'm glad you took the fre verse route with this literary composition

antique rained in the region of the home due to a climate of contempt...

but in another day the rain itself would have become anique for its sound would be lamented an cased in a hall of memories.

your free verse is vivid, and rocking...

you're my kind of girl ...

but I digress.

I love this work ...I think I'm smitten with you....you didn't exactly blow my socks off

but you've sown up my heart with lace stitchings and a jade locket

uuubrrrr hmmmm... forgive my constant flirtations....

this is a great work it's bright and faded like a waking dream soaked into a pillow...it is soft and fluent like a silk curtain strangeling my worries....

thank you...for your work pretty lady.

Gold Star...

Hannah wrote:Silken birds in crystal trees
sway back and forth in waxen breeze
preserved with trace of antique rain.

Excellent imagery! I love the adjectives you use here.

Pale blue curtains cling to life
as daddy once clung to his wife Telling the reader there is a plot here.
though cheating hearts spawned only pain.

I like this stanza. It's informative and it shows your poem isn't just abstraction but meaningful in it's own right.

In navy dark, when thoughts, like wood,
dissembled with dream termites, could
he make her love him, she'd be true. The "...she's be true," part was awkward to read.

But broken-china-coated floors
spoke volumes more than closed-up doors;
the years and days, how fast they flew.

Before I scarce could understand
my grandma took my painted hand
and took the acetone to me.

Both nails and memories she stole
but left to me a quilt-wrapped hole:
lace tablecloth's too bourgeoisie.

This is a great poem so far. Your style of writing is excellent and you have a skill with choosing the right/effective adjectives. Your words paint a picture in my head and that, to me, is a big significance to making successful poetry. Toward the end (last two stanzas) the energy from the rest of the poem started to die down a bit. I'd suggest word play to liven it up so that the entire poem is consistent. Other than that this is a great poem! Good job!

If you have a question, comment, or you want me to review anything else for you then PM me and I'll be more than happy to help you out.

Much Love,
Chris

if I heard this read in a workshop I would probably roll my eyes a lot.

here's why

"cheating hearts spawn only pain"

just in case we don't get that cheating is bad? You should try something else there. Something less obvious, yet more interesting.

dream termites just made me laugh. This poem seems really serious but that just seems silly, you already said that your thoughts were wood... so just say termites and its like an automatic connection. Its like you think I'm stupid, I'm a little offended.

if I didn't say anything about it, it means that I probably liked it more than I let on

Thanks for the feedback, both of you, but this was written over a year ago!

*Locked.*