Poetry Wars: The Battle, Updated: 9-4

Welcome to Poetry Wars. The following two poems are fighting for the right to be called Better than their adversary. They seek your attention and after you have read both poems, your vote. Careful, you only get one. Choose the poem you believe deserves to win, and find out what others think when you see the results.

These poems will also be judged by a panel of judges, and you can read their results next week when this thread is updated to reflect the new round.

Spoiler

The way the veins pop out of my hand
makes it look like I could choke out
my English teacher, no cable wire required.

If only the handwriting it produced
didn't look like it was from
a twelve year old in the Holocaust
(the words of fellow classmates).

It's called motor dysgraphia,
commonly known as laziness,
disorganization, DIY motor skills, or
an excuse for not putting in effort.

A substitute teacher,
self identifying as a Communist,
"chewed" me out. The way he stuttered
and stumbled to me didn't help his point
on how he was a more well rounded human.

Often times it is blamed on my gender,
my upbringing, and body structures.
Yes, the fact that I'm male explains why
I'm only capable of drawing dogs--
right.

It's a car crash or a fight
in the middle of the school;
it's only glorified by ignorance
from outsider views.

Side effects are virtually a skyscraper
supported by all the pity A's
I've received on art projects
or handwritten essays retyped.

It'll be hard growing up
when, no matter what,
I'll still be capturing
the childhood aesthetic.DIY Motor Skills

The way the veins pop out of my hand
makes it look like I could choke out
my English teacher, no cable wire required.

If only the handwriting it produced
didn't look like it was from
a twelve year old in the Holocaust
(the words of fellow classmates).

It's called motor dysgraphia,
commonly known as laziness,
disorganization, DIY motor skills, or
an excuse for not putting in effort.

A substitute teacher,
self identifying as a Communist,
"chewed" me out. The way he stuttered
and stumbled to me didn't help his point
on how he was a more well rounded human.

Often times it is blamed on my gender,
my upbringing, and body structures.
Yes, the fact that I'm male explains why
I'm only capable of drawing dogs--
right.

It's a car crash or a fight
in the middle of the school;
it's only glorified by ignorance
from outsider views.

Side effects are virtually a skyscraper
supported by all the pity A's
I've received on art projects
or handwritten essays retyped.

It'll be hard growing up
when, no matter what,
I'll still be capturing
the childhood aesthetic.

Spoiler

you are a hole of the way things should be, a taste of a home i never knew and never got the chance to squander like so many others have done. it’s the way you’ve always been like cigarette-butt burns in the skin like someone took a hole punch to your leg and punched, punching away, leaving maroon and salmonella bruises mottled to perfection, and the way you place your feet looks like you’re trying to run away from me, just like everything else in this ruination of a life and i think you lie when you promise me that you’ve never- been a dancer- i mean, just look at the way you place your feet! the stars wink when you make your promises, like they’re in on the whole charade, but indoors is too confining and final, voices echoing back in the closeness of the walls, and the whole earth breathes through the crack in the door and i can hear it… wheezing, so yes, outdoors is so much better, even if the snide stars do wink, snickering, but i don’t care: they’ve always looked like glowing cigarette butts anyway, and they’ve always had a home, even if they choose to leave it in flaming fury like so many others have done. i know one of these stars will point the way your feet faced when you leave me like the leaves will leave these trees around us because it’s almost fall again, and the aspens will strike and scratch the sky in their bareness and leave scars that, if you could see them, would look like the lines aeroplanes leave behind and float away so silently like where do the leaves go anyway? if i can find that place, will i find you there when you leave me?

The winner will be given a chance to climb up the ranks and receive badges.

For more information about Poetry Wars, and to join the fight check out the main thread.

Last week two poems fought viciously for your approval, and in the end The Language of Poetry by bluewaterlily won! This poem was loved overall by the votes having a total of 70% of the votes.

The results of the total accumulation of votes and judges points may not reflect the choice of the judges. In this particular contest, it was a tight race. There was only a 10 points of percentages difference between the two poems, and a 5 points of percentages difference between the points earned through judges voting.

Both poems did well.

Here are the Judges Comments on last week's poems.




i am one of the last of my kind,
a poet, a marvel to scientists,
a creature prone to turbulence,
as I battle the erratic metaphors
rippling under my skin with the force
of a typhoon, that bubbles up my throat,
rising to my lips, flowing out of my mouth,
waterfall streams of poetic jargon
that the scientists can't fathom,
as they puzzle over the mirror shards
of a dying language, trying in vain
to put my figurative jibberish into words



This poem started off really strong, and I'm very into poetry that is about writing poetry. However, I think you lose it toward the end where the power of your language dies down and we end anticlimactically. Particularly as none of the words in the poem were gibberish, it feels an inappropriate word. However, you should be pleased with the strength of your poem.

This poem gives me the impression we're missing something. This poem also has some inconsistency such as with whether to capitalize "I" or not and that created distractions from the poem. I like the way that this poem was said, but I think what was said could be improved.

If one is going to write a poem about being a poet, it needs to be a very solid poem. I found that the inconsistencies in the grammar and capitalization weakened the poem significantly, but what weakened it most was the theme itself. I don't think that this brought much originality to the table in its subject or its execution. Some of the images were nice, but I felt overall that they were lacking in depth and meaning that related to the theme.

I felt like this poem gave away too much early on and it might have been more interesting to describe the unknown specimen for four or five lines before revealing that it's a poet. The metaphors and similes weren't strong enough for a poem about writing poetry, though I did like 'mirror shards of a dying language'. I'd have liked to see the mirror image perhaps taken further - are they mirror shards because poetry reflects some assets of life? The connection to language which was followed up more was too obvious - it would be more interesting to further explore the more unique connections.




Silver raindrops, golden sun

Saphire rivers toss and run

Amethyst berries, dark as stone

Elven king sits on diamond throne

Topaz land with amolite shades

Cool green moss like dark green jades

Moon of opal in the sky

Garnet grasslands soft and dry

Emerald dragon under tree

Ruby fish deep under the sea



I'm in love with how you use gemstones effectively and without making the poem seem cheap, this greatly affected the broad beauty of your imagery, which worked very well. You lose out on the structure and overall feeling of the poem because your rhyme feels forced and I feel that you lacked a narrative when I felt you almost hinted at one.

This poem has a good beat to it, but overall the content was underwhelming. I'm a bit of a mineralogy buff, and hearing "garnet grasslands" just doesn't make sense to me. Otherwise, the poem has a lot of elements, but nothing really tying it together.

I enjoyed reading this poem. The imagery was really nice, and I felt like the meter was not obvious enough to distract from the peaceful feeling it gave me. I felt like some of the images you used didn't make sense, though. "Garnet grasslands" made me think of dark red grass, and it didn't fit in with the rest of the mostly naturally colored imagery. I also think that this could be improved by a narrative to connect these beautiful pictures you've drawn for us.

I thought the rhythm of this poem was really nice but the theme doesn't go anywhere. It feels like a string of images, one after another, which build a picture but don't connect it to any emotion or event. There's no voice coming through for any individual persona and the place isn't once which exists so there's no way for the reader to relate to this magical world.

Last week two poems fought to be called the best of the two, and in the end Early Autumn Soldiers by Gardevite won! This poem was unanimously won with both the most judges and public votes. If the competition had continued on longer, the results may have been different. Between today and yesterday, ElisabethLovelace's poem nearly caught up and overtook Gardevite's, which just goes to show you that voting matters!

If you're the next one up here, be sure to encourage voting because one vote can make a huge difference.

Here are the Judges Comments on last week's poems.



Green men with white hats,

pinheads sticking out, these

early Autumn soldiers,

marching steadily uphill.

-

He will raise you, he said.

He will capture your mother

and keep her under his bed.

He bought the sun and stars

and stuck them to the floor.

-

Blue warpaint, you will be ready

When you split in half.

After marching uphill

You'll greet us like lovers;

plucking out our eyes.



For me, it's difficult to consolidate the image of "capturing your mother / keeping her under his bed" which is horrific and traumatizing to then have the next line "he bought stars and sun" like it's jumping fast forward between ideas on hyperdrive without first settling in.

The images here are powerful in and of themselves. I like especially the authoritative voice that lures us into this sorta vengeful world, on a quest for vendetta, but it would've been more powerful to give some time to marinate before jumping from idea to idea and really try to be direct in what the speaker wants to say.

This poem really wants me to like it, but I feel a lacking in substance. We have very natural images, and the shocking twist at the end is good, but the overload of exactly how things could really be just, lacks for me as a reader. I want more, I want something to devour and savor. The middle stanza stands out to me as very 'meh' and the last stanza is okay because of the juxtaposition of lovers and eyeball-popping.

I love the images, but the structure and theme are lacking. Images have to be centered around something, not just floating in space. Make sure you end your lines on strong words. I really wish I could have given this a better score, but there was just a bit too much missing from these vivid images.

I like the theory of this poem, the suggestion of what it's about. However, there is a lack of clarity in terms of what it IS about, which makes it more difficult to connect to the poem and to your imagery. It's okay not to have a clear meaning, but I think here we don't have enough clues in your stanzas to effectively make our own implications. That's something to think about next time, a bit more focus on your part may have made this poem much more engaging for me.




Graffiti
The argument is well known
Is it art
Or is it vandalism

The crisp yellows
In neat little lines
The reflective yellows
Just pointing a sign

A sign to a gem
A gem to a bank
And from the bank
You get to the smuggling man

A dangerous occupation
Even if they aren't
Making an interfering
Deal

For the ones that we love
We would do any task
Even if it involves death
Sometimes even a mask

Heroes hide behind the truth
Not letting their emotions show through
They rest with angels
That is their way

But don't for a moment think
They are angels
They are not gods
They are not immortal

All men will fall someday
Because you can try
And be almighty
But you will fall as a human



I think the poem has interesting ideas, just that ideas by themselves fall flat. It fails to connect or be personal, it fails to capture our senses or imaginations.

That's my trouble with this poem. The poem preaches, rather than lives. Present to me the adventures of a masked graffiti man fighting injustice through vandalism and allow me to hear his heart thumping, and his hand speckled green, and his lungs cloaked in benzene, then provide me your arguments not through telling, but through his actions, and through clever use of tone and voice I will fall into these ideas you want to say nautrally without you even having to state them. Then I would be in love. Show, don't tell!

I think you have a good handle of flow and voice, but this poem rambled all over the place. There wasn't enough of a focus for me to get into the content and that made it difficult to finish reading. It was easy to ignore becuase we were going on such a guided path of thought all over the place. It was sort of like a tour of a brain that was trying to make jump turns, surprise you with where they were going, but that's not what a poem is about for me. I want a poem that embraces me in dialogue, not one that tries to surprise me into agreeing.

This rambled a lot. I was expecting this to focus on graffiti. This is a big enough subject on its own to fill up a whole poem. What little imagery you had was bland, and didn't draw me in. The lack of punctuation threw me off as well. If you're going to work on this poem, I suggest focusing on one thing, and adding more vivid images.

I really like where this poem began, the first three stanzas moved quickly but sensibly from one to the next and I found the flow of the lines to be smooth and very pleasant. From there, however, the thread of your poem seemed to lose some strength because the movement was too big to justify the beginning, you lost the sense of a stream of events. I get where you are going with this, but the second half needs to be reconsidered.

Last week two poems fought viciously for your approval, and in the end morning has wrung out her sleeves by Pompadour won! This poem was loved overall by the votes and judges scores, giving it a slight advantage when it came to the points war. With only 21 voters among the polls, those of you who are voting, are making a huge impact and that means your votes really matter.

Both of these poems were really enjoyed by the judges, and I'm sure by those who voted as well, so if you have a couple minutes, check them out!

Here are the Judges Comments on last week's poems.



morning has wrung out her sleeves
and has settled on the clothesline of the sky
to dry, to watch all her worries as they become
clouds, whisked away in a whirlwind
of flying dervishes and dutchmen.
[[these play harnesses to the wind.]]

morning is calm. the trees lay their heads
against the concrete walls of the plaza;
the wind rushes past, and the trees kiss
concrete teeth. bells tinkle, and dew
falls, gently, from morning's drooping sleeves.
[[dewdrops play the sky’s mourning eyes.]]

the morning, and the trees, and the wind
are harnessed; i watch them, sleepless,
eyes hammocked and body tired, but mind
ringing, ringing, ringing.

the bells on the newspaper boy's bicycle
echo in my head, even as he
echoes, down this street
and into the next--
there are thoughts driving
cataclysms into the cleft in my skull
that has been worn deep by nights of rugged tiredness.

i wander palaces, and tombs, and places
where the wind passes me by. my lips press
against the cool, cold skin
of awareness, and awakening;
the smell of sharp citrus bites into my skin.

oh, this is how it feels
to be alive; this is how it aches.

but with my hair pulled taut over pillowsheets,
and eyes pinned to the ceiling, i feel
like a moth in a glass cylinder. i am
trapped, wings fluttering, wind
wandering; i see
and am not seen, by morning's first light.
i hear, and am not heard
by the sound of morning bells.
i feel, and am not felt
by trees grazing unfeeling skin.

i wander, and do not,
as morning slips on her cloak
and enters day;
[[night veils himself in dawn.]]

the glass cylinder is flooded
with the sights and sounds
of peace.

so good night, bells,
it is daylight,
and sleep has come for me.



This was such a vivid piece. You do use the same few word to the point of repetition, but it works nicely. The flow was smooth, and the idea was well expressed.

I liked the flow and texture of the poem, if that makes sense. The words you used and the variety of feeling, the repetition of images works very well for me. I feel like there's a loss of clarity near the middle/end of the poem, but I like it overall. I love the way you talk about the trees.

This poem gave me shivers when I read it. The poignancy of your images haunts me and creates a strong emotion. The only thing I might change is some of your line breaks. I feel like they could have been broken on stronger words. Excellent imagery.

I really like what you're doing here, but I think it needs some structural consideration. The use of brackets is beautiful and I'm very into it but it felt forgotten by the time we hit the last one, as though you'd forgotten you were using them. I know this isn't your intention but that's what came through for me. Your imagery is lovely and I felt enriched for reading it.




Remember hiding under your bed
and finding yourself;
the yoyo that skirted
out of your hand;
a pound the tooth fairy left
after you stopped believing.

Remember here where you left your name
and lost it;
the unfamiliar curves of a vowel
you no longer sound;
the letters large and long
in the headlight of your torch.

Remember closing your eyes
to open them;
the photograph dated on the back,
her scrawls a hand drawn treasure map;
a quest you almost completed
when you were the hero.

Remember this is a game
and not reality;
the food that is bubbling
over the stove;
the edge of the world
compressed in joints and fingertips.



The stanzas seem like they could use revision to establish a stroger connection between them. The second stanza is a little confusing. The piece flows nicely with well placed punctuation. Beautiful phrasing!

I really liked this poem a lot. The way that the repetition of "Remember" works in with the rest of the poem really draws out the flavor of childhood from an adult's perspective, and the things that were used to relate it to the reader, like the description of letters, was beautifully done. I would have liked to see more enjambment, and a little more clarity of the last stanza, but it was very good.

I really enjoyed reading this. The images are really lovely. The only thing I might change is the repetition at the beginning of every stanza. I think that the piece would do better with a stronger connection or narrative between the stanzas instead of the repeated line. But otherwise, I loved it.

I'm really into how smooth and pleasant this was to read. Your stanzas are well defined though I question whether they work as smoothly as they could as a whole poem, their units are so well done they seem a very little disjointed at times. Your imagery is lovely and in particular "closing your eyes/to open them" really gets me. Nice work.

Last week two poems fought viciously for your approval, and in the end every drop of water like a stone by Lareine won! This poem won because of the combination. While the two poems were neck in neck with the voting, with this poem in the lead by only 24%, with the added judges votes, it pulled into a stable lead. Both poems had high scores, and did good overall, this one just did the better between the two.

Here are the Judges Comments on last week's poems.



every drop of water like a stone,
heaving hot and burning hard against
my freezing skin—evaporate
is entered in my dictionary
close to the beginning, it's
the part I break down every day,
blood and tears and cleansing rain
run rivers down my spine

hurting is a word I used to know,
but I sat under a pelting storm
atoning for my sin—commiserate
is entered in my dictionary
somewhere in the middle, it's
the part I sit and stare at you,
water's pouring off of us
like oceans in my mind

I'm learning to withstand with every blow,
every whisper aimed at faces turned
away from wind—incinerate
is entered in my dictionary
nearer to the flyleaf, it's
the part I sink into the earth,
so hot I'm melted into stone
and turned to rain in kind



I really enjoyed this! The water-related imagery and metaphors were very enjoyable to read. I LOVED the development of the theme through the dictionary entries; it was very creative and helped add to the powerful word choice. I liked how each stanza brought the narrator a little further in both their emotional journey and in the pages of the dictionary. I gave structure 7/10 based on the guidelines- " I really wish they would have done x instead of y, that would have made it better." In this case, there were a couple of points where the rhythm didn't flow correctly, like the opening lines of the second and third stanzas. Originality and entertainment- definitely on point. Loved it, thanks for sharing!

This was fun! I appreciate what you're doing especially with your structure and the consistency in introducing words as entries in a personal dictionary. The best part for me, though is your use of enjambment; I'm a fan of anyone who will mix and play with that, especially how you juxtapose that use with the dictionary words and more natural breaks in the rest of the poem. It emphasizes the words, and then you follow that pattern in each stanza, with the similar instances of enjambment, and even when it's a slightly more awkward break (see after "it's" in each stanza), I'm finding I like it because it's a repeated instance which partially lessens the impact,but it also ties things together because it's a piece of a definition for your narrator, so structurally it does rather make sense. Plus, it helps force reading to go faster and run things together, which in this poem is an effect I like and I think works nicely.

I love what you did with the imagery and the structure. At first I wasn't a fan of the structure, but really, it just adds so much to the piece. It's got a nice meter, and I really like the repetition of the structure of each stanza throughout the poem. I wouldn't usually break a line on "it's," but this is one of the rare occurrences in which it works. Very nice job.

The images in this piece flow so nicely together to weave into one cohesive work with a clear central theme that hit me right in the emotions. The images are concrete, which I am a huge fan of, but although my emotions really understood the main story, my brain didn't quite. I wasn't logically sure what the deeper purpose of the specific words evaporate, commiserate, and incinerate was, although I appreciate the parallelism of them! But not all poems have to appeal to logos. This one more than made up for any lack of logos with its exceptionally strong appeal to pathos. I thought the "entered in my dictionary" image was a little strange, but it did make the piece more memorable and concrete. Beware of cliches; you were toeing the line a little in places. Love the title. Reading this was like listening to rain patter on my roof. I quite enjoyed it.




your man was outside,
eating firecrackers
and glistening with sweat.
he was pulling teeth from a dragon’s mouth.
your man was outside ending things.

you were inside,
messing with light switches,
wishing your man would mess with you
instead of cold bodies,
straight from the can.

you didn’t know what to do
with the fire that
was stirring comfortably
inside your stomach.
it was polite like your pleases and thank yous,
and the way you saved your anger for the bathroom,
the only thing you’d attack was your teeth,
your only weapon was your toothbrush.

your man hated clean mouths -
his was bloodied, and caked with gasoline,
but he didn’t care.
he never thought about your lips when he was outside
and you were inside, never spitting.



Sweet poem! I was rather unsure of the theme at times, as this is so dependent on metaphors. Some things such as "messing with lights" didn't seem to serve a purpose to me as a reader. Make sure you don't get so bogged down in using figurative language that you forget to be clear! The use of metaphor to describe the man was wonderfully creative, and overall I did enjoy reading it.

You have some really interesting and rather arresting imagery, but you lose your focus in the imagery, I think. Lines like "eating firecrackers" are so good, but as a reader I feel bereft - I can't figure out what, exactly, you're attempting to convey. Keep the unique imagery, but don't let that be all your poem stands on. Good imagery only goes so far! It took me several read-throughs to really get a sense of separation and conflict that comes through from the imagery, and while finding more meaning in a second read is good, it shouldn't take more than that to really start to sink your teeth into a poem, either. It's a tricky balance.

I really, really liked this. You balance voice with imagery and still manage to get your point across. The only reason I didn't give you 10/10 for imagery is that I didn't understand exactly how to click with some of the images, particularly in that first stanza. The rest of the poem was really lovely, but I think you either need to expand those images in the first stanza, or find more concrete ones. It doesn't really set the tone for the poem. Overall, though, this has a really lovely voice, and the theme struck close to home. I was really entertained by this one!

This was quite a poingnant poem full of very strong images. I feel very uncomfortable reading this, but I assume that was the purpose (and if so, you did a very good job). I could feel the uncomfortable stirring in my stomach, the distaste about this man with blood on his lips. Heck, I could feel unmentionable grit and sludge on my teeth and in my brain. It was really exceptional how clear these feelings were. What was less clear was the motivation behind these characters. I'm left wondering why this guy is doing these things and why the narrator is taking it. Not that this is the most crucial information to the poem; what's really important is the feelings. Still, it did leave me with a lot of unanswered questions. That can sometimes make a poem more memorable, though!

Last week two poems fought viciously for your approval, and in the end Lionheart by DragonWriter22 won! Congratulations on winning! This poem put up a long hard fight against it's opponent, and in the end, the votes were swayed by judges just barely.

This is DragonWriter22's second time in Poetry Wars already, which shows submitting again is totally worth it.

Here are the Judges Comments on last week's poems.



The image of the boldened king

Is found in many forms

From one of swords and valor

To wisdom, scrolls and words


Mighty though, above the rest

Another now does rise

His heart enclosed, the living flame

It lies within his chest


The burning rage can’t be contained

And leaks into his eyes

Few of realm can thus withstand

Those awful golden fires


His paws are quick with lightning speed

His roar like thunder after

No clouds above can shield his wrath

Or mask his stately embers


His mane is long, he needs no crown

Been wrought in lesser blaze

He is himself, how proud and strong

No need of knights or blades





The most striking thing about this poem to me is the use of metaphor and imagery. I think that both those things were very well done. I doubt it's easy to write a whole poem describing something, but you've made it work quite nicely. I don't think the rhyme was really necessary. It felt forced or almost not ever there in some places, and it wasn't consistent, so it threw me off a bit. There wasn't much development of a theme, and as a result, the poem felt a bit incomplete. I didn't feel like there was much to wrap it up. The structure in particular was what was unoriginal, as the old ABAB rhyme scheme has been used so many times. Ultimately, though, I did find this poem nice and entertaining, with some captivating imagery to boot. I just didn't find much more to it than that.

I like what you are going for here, and I appreciate the slow movement of the poem. The forced structure you're using loses some of the interest and flow that I think this poem needs. The stilted way your lines are working are against the lithe strength that your imagery wants to have.

I like that this poem is very narrative and harkens back to more of an epic feel. I like that you use that sort of syntax too. It works well for the poem. I feel like despite that, you ended up hitting some road bumps with consistency though, for instance, your rhyme scheme. It's there, and yet, it's not there. Some words sound similar, like fires and eyes, but that sort of slant rhyme doesn't continue through your poem. You only really use rhyme twice, and that inconsistency, when this poem sounds like it should rhyme, is daunting. It's not ABAB and while the second stanza is ABCA, you don't stick with that. If you stuck with a rhyme scheme, or stick to not having one and stop breaking up your poem like the cadence should have a rhyme scheme, I think it might give you a little more freedom and allow your poem to develop into what it wants to be rather than making you use awkward lines that don't talk about your subject.

A couple of things to note: this style feels very much in the tradition of epic poems, but it's not usually a style that lends itslef well to short work. In addition, that type of poem usually has a set rhyming structure, and you're not consistent there. The images you describe are good, but lacking any "oomph" to set them apart. I think you can do more with this is you dig in and explore the images and what, exactly, you want to convey. That will then dictate what you do with your structure.




All the things I will ever know
will grow old with me.
This poem will be lost in time
in a room that I'll rot in;
my bones will melt into the floorboards.

Robots will be able to do everything we were able to do
and we'll become obsolete.
I have a feeling my definition of humanity and the future's
is much different.

Mortality is fragile like a glass
able to be shattered with a small drop
shards piercing your feet.
I'm glad that I'll be leaving this world
before it all goes to--



The second stanza is definitely the weakest in this poem. The other two make good use of poetic devices such as simile, but but second stands out to me because it's just cut-and-dry. I feel like there was a better way to go about describing those things (and maybe a more elegant way to switch from present-day to robots). The lines also look very uneven there, and it's quite visually unappealing because it doesn't match the rest of the poem. The theme was definitely clear, but it didn't really go anywhere. I also didn't get much out of the "--" at the end. I wasn't sure what it was supposed to signify, or if the reader was supposed to guess what came after it. There are some interesting images in this poem, such as melting into the floorboards and morality being like a glass, so you did a good job there. I did get some entertainment out of this poem, but there are a lot of weak spots in this that stood out to me as I was reading it. Overall though, good job, and I hope I helped!

I appreciate the angle this poem is taking, and find that it is an interesting take on the growing technological dependancy we have. I do think that you sacrifice some of the interest and imagery here in the interest of blank clarity. You may want to consider including imagery related to the technology that overwhelms us.

I think this poem really needs to push the boundaries of what we already believe in order to really get there. Right now, it's got a nice flavor, but it doesn't have enough substance. You start out by talking about death, but death isn't the point of the poem so much as why we're becoming obsolete. I feel like that really needs to be explored and worked with, chewed on if you will, before you go into the rest of it. Also, the structure is somewhat jarring with the two long lines in the second stanza when you could use some pretty enjambment to make that smoother.


I like where you're going with this, and I rather like the last line, but you're lacking in execution. your rhythmic structure is all over, and that really detracts from what you're doing and what you have on the page already. You also tell the reader more than you show - you want to do more like your first line of the last stanza, versus your second stanza which flat out tells the reader what your narrator wants them to take away. Push more, and really look at where this idea can take you, don't just state it!

Last week two poems fought viciously for your approval, and in the end summer, '09 by Meshugenah won! This poem was loved overall by the votes having a total of -75% of the votes.

It was also the favorite of the judges too, but with every poem comes a little critique.

Here are the Judges Comments on last week's poems.



it was dark by the time we crossed
stumbling punch drunk in the almost twilight
of warm july and a deserted corner of brooklyn
explored as far as the nearest open starbucks
(across the street and to the left,
lit beacon of overpriced sugar
and excuses for giddiness deemed
too far afield for twenty-somethings
who took themselves seriously
because no one else would)

you don’t remember crossing back,
but you remember the ac unit and teeny table
and concentric rings of condensation
only slightly more permanent
than signing the bridge in yellow highlighter

we were here, we were here, we were here.



I definitely got a sense of "slice of life" from this-- like a snapshot of a memory. It's personal, and it pulls the reader into the moment and allows them to experience it with you. It worked well, although I do feel like the second half of the first stanza drifted away from that. I was enjoying this happy little moment, but then you introduce this larger idea that doesn't mesh and kind of leaves me wondering what all that was about. You pulled it back together in the last stanza though, which I really enjoyed. I also liked the use of "punch drunk", as it's not an expression I was expecting to hear

This poem is good, but it needs a little more direction. By the end of the first stanza I feel like I've gone off on a tangent that didn't really have a point, and as I continue reading, the point just seems to be life, and what it was like for these people back in 2009, which is fine, but I'm not sure I get that from the first and second stanzas without the title. I think the reason I don't get that is because there's this broad idea of what's going on, and it's just a night that wanders into a thought that no one takes these people seriously. There's no follow up. It's like when you leave a quote at the end of a paragraph in an essay. You're supposed to bring it back to center, explain why that matters, but we're just left with this notion that no one takes them seriously and then hop into the second stanza. It's almost like the aside in parenthesis forgot it was an aside.

You set up the atmosphere almost perfect, but that's the problem with it. I feel as it dug its feet in the sand of imagery pretty far down there, trying to get a feeling out of the reader. It did accomplish that, however that was the main accomplishment. You made me feel in the moment, but only that. There wasn't much substance under it. Original? Eh. It pinpointed a lot of details, like most poetry that deals with this topic would. You did what you wanted to do, but you definitely could have done a lot more.

The first stanza struggled to keep my interest but I think reading the whole poem was well worth it. You have a way with words --perhaps too much at times in the beginning-- and paint a strong picture simply. However, the direction felt like a tangent upon a tangent, loosely strung together with a vague message on life. I feel as if the message was not your intent on this poem but the imagery you presented. Still, I felt lost and disjointed at parts to the point the imagery couldn't get to me sometimes. Having said that, I did quite enjoy reading it.




I dreamt about you the other night
A long dream, no end in sight
You held me tight, and kissed me slowly
I fell in love with you again unknowingly
I found another to keep me safe
But I have you, just in case
The one I desire above all else
The love I keep stored on a shelf
We can't talk anymore
But the last words you spoke I so adore
"Matthew I love you," was the last thing I heard
To get you back, the idea is simply absurd
The thought of us is in the past
Simply put, never asked
~
I thought I was doing better than I had before
The truth is I dropped everything, fell to the floor
A recollection of what we used to be
A nervousness that's for all to see
Pain seeps through the cracks of my mind
Blurring my vision, slowing the time
A startled vision of you comes near
A lost memory, a nothingness appears
Darkening my mind, destroying my thoughts
A world of unknown pain, free but never bought
A light flickers in the distance
Try to fight, try to resist it
The will I have slowly dies
Once smiling, now only cries
~
Her memory envelops my entire being
I can feel her presence without even seeing
I looked up to the sky in the hours before dawn
I yelled to the moon, and the night stifled a yawn
It's nothing new for me to do this
To sit on these steps and reminisce
To reflect on what we once shared
To think of how you showed you cared
My heart still beats only for you
My mind speaks only the words true
A knife pulled, a heart broken
A gun dropped, feelings awoken
A hole carved in the soul of the young
Secrets lost, a slip of the tongue
~
How can I stay in a world so cold?
I want to wait, but the loss is old
I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't stay
I should try everything to keep you away
But I keep coming back
Wishing I could hear your laugh
Willing to travel a million miles
Just to see your sweet smile
To see the look on your face when I say I love you
To be there with you, no matter where you go to
I'll always be here, waiting
I'll never leave, I'm done debating
You're the life that I want, the one that I need
I was given warnings but I decided not to heed
~
My mind was mixed, a feeling in between
A smile on my face, pain not being seen
A laugh in my chest
But the spark in my eyes left
It went away when you did
It fell away, went off the grid
I found someone else a few weeks ago
She wrapped me tight and held me close
But it's not the same as it was
I don't know why, the only answer I have is,"Just because."
She smiles differently than you did, I remember
The day I first saw you, late December
I think back, and it leaves me in tears
When I wake up, I'm over come by my fears.



The biggest thing that kept me from enjoying this poem was the rhyming. I don't necessarily dislike rhyming when it's done well, but it was just so forceful here, in 5 big chunks of text. After a while, I had trouble focusing on it. They're also forced about half the time, which takes away from it, but when they work, they work quite well. Of course, a poem about love isn't exactly an original idea, and that's not a bad thing. However, I feel like you relied on a lot of clichès here instead of taking it and making it your own unique thing. I can hear bits of your voice in this, but between all the issues I've discussed here, it's just not really coming through.

I feel like this is a pretty standard love poem. There's not much going on in this poem that I haven't seen before and I really feel like that's a shame because the way that rhymes are folded into the poem here really is wonderful, and yet they get overpowering with the rhymes at the end of the lines as well, it's sort of like having too many sweets at once. I need a break for a little while to come back. Also, the poem is about something we're all very familiar with, but it doesn't go into it in a way that I find unique, or personal. I enjoy how clear the poem is, I know exactly what it is about, but I want more originality to make it entertaining and unique.

"You're a brick, haus"-some 80s song I heard once. Anywho, yeah, that's what it was. Chunks of rhyming poetry with no variation at all. What the other comments said covers my thoughts. You could have done much more with this, instead of it being a by-the-numbers love poem.

The focus of this poem seems to be the rhyming to me, and the message gets muddled because of how forced the rhyming seems. There are some parts that I did enjoy about this poem, but those jewels are lost in a forest of mediocrity. Cut down this poem and search it for the jewels. Those best parts can create a wonderful poem by itself.