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A hidden land of constant smiles,
Resting within these crumpled walls of paper.
Thousands of eyes squinted against the sun
Because it never rains here.
Sculpted lands of black and white,
Where everyone stands still
For longer than they ever have before.

Here is the world of harsh reality,
As you suddenly look back and realise
You’ve put on weight
Or that outfit you loved was just a mistake.
But here is the place where
You only grow old if you want to,
Where no one dies
Or cries themselves to sleep when they’re sure
That no one’s watching.

Here is the place of crisp gingham pinafores,
Dungarees and buckets and spades
And swings and picnics
And laughter
And laughter.

Here is the place of silent statues
Watching you with silent eyes.
People who you can’t quite remember
Gathering in a place you might have known.
Here is the place of innocent babies
Who never grow up to work in jobs they hate
With people who don’t really know them.
Here is the place of happily ever after,
Here is the place of my dreams.

Hi sunshine girl -


This is a collection of rambling generalities and forced, awkward rhythms, and it has virtually nothing to offer the sentient reader.

It cannot be improved by any editing process that doesn't begin with discarding it entirely.

While you might wish to get detailed critique on improving this, or hear at least some word of support, I can't honestly do either. The piece isn't worth the effort to dissect.

It is a waste of your time and ours to post material this weak.


Better luck next time,
Brad

Hi sunshine girl -


This is a collection of rambling generalities and forced, awkward rhythms, and it has virtually nothing to offer the sentient reader.

It cannot be improved by any editing process that doesn't begin with discarding it entirely.

While you might wish to get detailed critique on improving this, or hear at least some word of support, I can't honestly do either. The piece isn't worth the effort to dissect.

It is a waste of your time and ours to post material this weak.


Better luck next time,
Brad

I disagree with the posts above [there was no need for two really] and think that they are in fact, overly harsh on this, but we get used to that from people here.

I didn't think it was great, but it definately has some potential and I dont think you should be discouraged by anyone if they say that this wasn't good. You have some wonderful imagery and in someplaces the flow and rhythm work well together making it sound greate when read aloud - which I tend to do.

Although, in some places the flow is forced a little and I feel as though you have placed too many syllables into one line such as your second and third line. This is a bad thing to do anywhere in a poem, but even worse if it is near the opening. Try to see it from my point of view and I hope this helps.

Contrary to Incandescence's viewpoint, I liked this. It's a good concept, and some of the lines were really nifty.

I especially liked the first staza, and this line:

"Here is the place of silent statues
Watching you with silent eyes."

The second stanza was a little disappointing, and I can't pinpoint why... Maybe it's the combination of ideas and the line, "You only grow old if you want to." I'm not sure. I'll think about it and get back to you.

Peace, love, chocolate,
Muffin

I agree with Incandescence in essence.

There is some imagery here but that's about all. I can see some religious tones and some personal-issues that you may have wanted to come through with, but it really makes little sense. The poem does not seem structured in a way befitting any line of consciousness, even if it is the consciousness of dreams.

Try again with the same concept, because you may have something, but definitely try again.