To My Dearest Black

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To my dearest Black
The earth does shiver
With rain upon my back
Hand in hand
Across the desert
Heat stroke and burning faces

Dark moon hovers
And the desert freezes
Arm in arm
Cold chivalrous blows

White damp mist
As the sun arises
The demon day light glowing
Fear grips thee
Holding on tight
To the shadow of hope
That died in the night

To my dearest Black
Dark days whither
As frost bites back
Cold lingering fingers
Gripping on the wrist

Cold snow drifts
Rhyming down upon
This cave that I call
Home for now

Calm winter breeze
Howling around
The dead and empty walls
Cold inside, deeper
Still, I can feel the summer
Wind upon my cheeks
Desert wind blowing




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Hey OneSun!

One thing I really think you can do with this poem is to describe Black more. At first I thought it was a person, then I thought it was the darkness, but you described darkness as separate to Black, so I am confused! It seems weird for you to be addressing to Black, yet only referring to Black (outside of the address) with "fear grips thee." So work on that! Let's see some characterization here. Once you get that down, the rest of the poem will be much smoother. :)

Good luck! :D
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D




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Hola , OneSun, me llama lily! I’m definitely not in Spanish class or anything. :D

Anyways, I was going to review this.

So right off the bat, I wanted to point out just a few little nitpicks.

The demon day light glowing


So, I keep wondering to myself, is it the demon day and the light glowing. Or is the demon daylight glowing. I think day and light should probably just be one word.

Gripping on the wrist


‘the’ seems like a funky word here because it makes the subject seem very disconnected. If that was the effect that you were going for, then that is great. But if you’re trying to make it seem more together and more personal, try using ‘my.’

Right now, I think you just have a poem filled with some wonderful description, which isn’t terrible. You need description to have a good poem. But that’s really all that this is right now. Poems, just like in prose, need to tell some sort of story. I think, because you don’t have much description of Black, or much of a plot, you aren’t giving us any story to feel connected to.

Anyways, that’s my two cent. Hope I could help a little but if you have any questions, feel free to PM me whenever.

~lilymoore
Never forget who you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.




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Just a few words of encouragement
Wow, you're an amazing writer! You did a great job, keep up the good work!
I cry in secret, for the world doesn't under stand me...



I was flummoxed by fractious Franny's decision to abrogate analgesics for the moribund victims of the recent conflagration. Of course, to display histrionics was discretionary, but I did so anyways, implicating a friend in my drama to make the effect cumulative. I think a misanthrope would have a prosaic appellation, perhaps one related to autonomy and the rejection of anthropocentrism. I think they wouldn't think much of the prominence of watching the coagulation of tea to prognosticate future malevolent events, not even if those events were related to jurisprudence.
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