At The Tongue of The Critic

The words I craft drip, distastefully, from your lips
And onto the floor where they run and spread
Until they are thin and meaningless rabble.
I try to salvage them, and cup them in my hands,
But they slip back to the rough cement where they dry
And stain the ground with a faint, tainted, glow.

How longing and desperate! No, no perhaps it is more determined and fatalistic? No, no I do not know what it is, but only what I feel is certain! How wretched it must be to have to hear or witness such words! Salvage them if you must, would only disdain await your sincere longings? I know nothing of the sort! A wonderful poem, how exquisite!! To long to save something so tarnished and abandoned. (Forgive me if I misunderstood, but is it not man's joy to indulge in blinding follies?) Thank you for the fine writing~

Hahaha, jcha, that was quite an episode you had. Made me laugh. Which is healthy, especially after this poem gets you down.

Don't get me wrong, I loved it. And I believe that sadness was the mood of this, so congratulations on keeping that up. Your word choices I found incredible, especially with the first three lines.

The words I craft

This was brilliant, to say the least.

The words I craft drip, distastefully, from your lips

At first this line seemed to long and drawn out, but then I re-read the poem and it fits with everything else.

I'm not going to go in depth with how I perceived everything, because it was all magnificent. Honestly, I adore this poem. If you wish for me to go in depth with it, however, and point out what I feel could be edited, then PM it to me and I'll take an extra hard look at it and tell you what I think lies deep within and could be dug up to make this piece extraordinary.

Keep up the good work.
--Brandon
xoxo

The words I craft I feel like there is something missing here. Maybe some type of punctuation?drip, distastefully, from your lipsGreat line!
And onto the floor I think there should be a comma here, but I could be wrong.where they run and spread
Until they are thin and meaningless rabble.For some reason this made me laugh...
I try to salvage them, and cup them in my hands,
But they slip back to the rough cement Again, maybe add a comma here?where they dry
And stain the ground with a faint, tainted, glow.

All in all, this was a very good poem. It really does describe what it feels like to have your words read over by a critic and destroyed. So, hopefully my review did not make you feel like I was throwing your words on the ground. Because, I thought your words were exellent!

Can I hear an amen and amen? But you must celebrate the ravishing and the ravaging of the critic, a hallow's eve of the soul. No?

I really like this, and besides my taste in formatting and punctuation differs from yours, I wouldnt change a thing.
You said it.



I try to salvage them, and cup them in my hands,

^^^ favorite line
Keep it real and please, keep writing!

-M.

I take it that, you've had some bad encounters with some hollow critics who only wished to bring you down rather than roughly rake you up...anyways...even in this there is hope and you said so yourself, yes, that "tainted glow" was it?

Though I am compelled to agree with you. Hollow criticism is only a sign of your greatness and nothing else, but, please dont forget that not all criticism is like this.

Lovely poem.

The words I craft drip, distastefully, from your lips
And onto the floor where they run and spread
Until they are thin and meaningless rabble.
I try to salvage them, and cup them in my hands,
But they slip back to the rough cement where they dry
And stain the ground with a faint, tainted, glow.

Loved your poem greatly, you managed to say so much in so little- which is a unique, great talent.
I think I get your meaning here- but I might be wrong.
Anyway, it's a wonderful, spectacular poem, and I liked it greatly.
Your newest liker-
SubjectBlue