Tarot Decks of Colors

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Description: I originally wrote this for a contest, based off of several pictures, from a different website. It eventually became something that I wrote for me, a rare occasion, as I'm an objective writer. It is ambiguous, odd, and unlike anything I've ever written before. I ended abruptly once I realized how lengthy it had become, but now have decided I don't care. This was the original stopping point, but I'm still working on it now. Thanks for reading! :)
-Coral-


Rainbow symphonies
A tarot deck of colors
Mirrors reflecting impossibilities
I don’t understand it all
The layers of realities
Overlapping one another
And spreading from each other all the time
Momentum, guiding everything
A whirlwind of worlds
Passing through my trains of thought
Getting off on each stop
And wondering where the hell I am

Greeted there not by grateful friends,
But new strangers
Filled with the old, the new, and the colorful
Smelling of sunberries and dark green skies
Willow blossoms in their hair
Snowdrops in their scent
Dance like trees and twilight
No two movements the same, like licks of fire
Wildflower bouquets in their hands
With ribbon tied clothes swaying
Like a separate entity altogether
But they’re torn and distraught
Ragged and patched
With sunlight and rainbow spectrums
And their carriers, well they’re
Speaking in subdued subtlety
Voices like leaves in a river
Wind in a waterfall

They’re fairytales come alive
With modest theatricality
But ones I’ve never heard
From grandparents with their grave voices
Never seen
With eyes curious and wide
But have always known they’re there
Felt them in my heart
In childhood recollections
And forgotten nostalgias
Creatures of fantasy
Living under bridges
And in barren holes.

Like old fashioned angels
Eagle feathers and pipe smoke
Pure on the inside
While rot on the out
Can’t tell who they are
Not really
Cloaked in too many masks
Too many emotions
Clouding their musical lips
Whimsicality in every soft word.
And their illusory eyes
Darkness behind pupils
Gray morality in irises
The pure in those perfectly bright whites.
Reflections of a people
Of a wonder
Of life and memories
So many many memories
Forgotten and held on to
With a vice like mind

Fantasies
Daydreams
And everyday life
Because the small things
Were always the most important
Strands of thought reflected in smells
In that Spring perfume
Flying by like startled finches.

The lost come back
To a grateful mind
Aided by the movement
The dances of lucidity
Motions from the past
Ribbons of color reminders
Of nostalgia and nostalgia’s offspring.

Yes, I am grateful
To those old strangers and new friends
But saddened too,
For those bright remindings
Brought so many dark findings.




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Hey there! I'm here to review your wonderful poem today! :D

As you might have known, I love this poem! It's not ambiguous or odd at all, and I loved how you described everything. It's really soothing and dreamy.

...I don't know what else to say, because it's perfect already! :o

When you finish expanding it, can you please send me a PM? I would love to read the rest!

Keep up the good work --- you derserve a gold star! :D

-Rosie =]
you'll never find another sweet little girl with sequined sea foam eyes
ocean lapping voice, smile coy as the brightest quiet span of sky
and you're all alone again tonight; not again, not again, not again.
and don't it feel alright, and don't it feel so nice? lovely.






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Hey,

From the title of this poem I could tell that it was going to be mainly around imagery.

I was pleasantly surprised to find what felt like a storyline. I didn't feel any major heart throbbing emotions but I felt a little bit of a storyline so well done for that.

I loved the imagery. I think it worked perfectly for the piece and it related nicely back to your title.

No two movements the same, like licks of fire
Wildflower bouquets in their hands
With ribbon tied clothes swaying


My favourite part. It just shows how it feels.

I would love to read ore.

PM for anything.

~Retro Disco666
'I have loved to the point of madness, which for me is the only true way to love'
~Francoise Sagan




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This really, really, really needs punctuation. Every line at the moment is short and snappy, but it's hard me as a reader to know how fast this is, when I should pause, and the images seem unconnected. There's no breaks, no guidelines. It's a bit of a mess, if I'm honest. It's really damaging your work, because it's too choppy. It destroys any chance of flow or rhythm, crucial to a poem's success, and that's your biggest problem here. Get your editing pen out, read it to yourself out loud, and get some commas and periods in there, and I'll come back and critique the content. Until then, this is like walking in pitch black darkness down a hillside.
Nate wrote:And if YWS ever does become a company, Jack will be the President of European Operations. In fact, I'm just going to call him that anyways.




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i love this!
very vivid and sort of dream like.

i liked it or loved it very much.



I think the more you understand myths, the more you understand the roots of our culture and the more things will resonate.
— Rick Riordan