What Becomes of Me

No longer. And
your song is not a melody,
just a bassline. I am sorry.
Could I ever believe in the peace of mind
that comes with boredom?
I can see you tossing pieces of my skull
across the ocean that smoked with sewerage.

Most pathetic, to sob and cut myself
silent because the night was long,
the vodka was warm,
and made me cry. Oh, I
should have kissed him.
Less complicated it would have been.
He could have leaned in just as far.

But the stone in the throat
is the she-glitter that wafted away
as mine, black, weighed on my neck.
I left him, for I could never
be an old lady. Though I said
he was mature, and the stars
cackled dust upon my eyes.
written: Wednesday 22nd November 2006, 11:00pm

Oh, how I love good poetry....
First thing's first: it's mind-numbingly depressing, which is a good thing, because it's consistent. The mood of the poem is set out from the start and continues right the way through. Similarly, the flow is spot on; slow and choppy and desperate.
This poem's imagery is incredible; original and unique, sparse and beautiful. There are things here that I would have just loved to have written, yet could never be capable of coming up with. Example:

I can see you tossing pieces of my skull
across the ocean that smoked with sewerage.

That's an unusual, yet striking image, that makes the poem feel very, very real.
I hate commenting on poems without leaving something to build upon but in this case I don't feel care. This is quality, this is. Well done.

Hello Liz,


You have some intriguingly macabre imagery; some things quite evocative. Unfortunately, they're not really drawn together under anything too catching - they haven't the structure or the polished purpose, and they don't come to anything more than pieces of skull tossed across a sea.

Now, there's a place to start, doubtless. ^_^ But it isn't, in itself, a poem.

Two things you might take into acount and thought if you go over this again. Firstly, line breaks have a point; and yours seem tossed haphazard. Second, what's defining about the piece? You have a theme that shows up in a lot of so-called 'emo' work. Take it and make it strong enough to knock a reader down; not just pity its wailing despair.

Again, start with some of the images you have. But tighten them. They have an unnervingly dream-like sense in them, morbid.




IMP