Smoke

I smiled as I woke this morning because
I remembered the way you asked me

to dance last night in the sweaty school
gymnasium. That same song was playing,

the song they play every year at every
dance. Do you remember last year,

when the fire alarm rang and we all ran
outside and stood shivering in our dance

clothes by the flagpole, and the way we
sang and laughed out loud to keep warm? Do you?

And what I remember is that as we fled
back through the wide doors, you disappeared

into the crowd before I could ask you to dance
with me. But this year your hand rested on

the small of my back and your other hand in mine,
and that same old song is still ringing in my ears.

*squeal* I'm not sure if I liked this because I knew the emotional back story to it, or because it was just that good or some mix of the two.

It flowed unbelievably well, each stanza pierced and rushed on into the next. The way your lines didn't stop at the end of the line, and flowed on (Forgive me, I forget the term and am too lazy to go look at my poetry guide XD) was beautiful, and impeccable. I loved the way the first question almost had an accusing tone, as if to say, "I'm sure you forgot, but I still remember. And I still remember how you left me." But. But this time.

Colly, this blew me away, and really...I wish I could write poetry this well. People seem to be mystified by me and think I can write poetry, but they're all liars. You, darling, you can write poetry. I can only pretend to follow in your shadow. ^^;

Keep up the good work!

I'm curious though, why the title? Obviously, the fire alarm, but I think if you dug deeper you could find a more meaningful title. I could also dig deeper and pick through the beauty of your word choice and such (I just read it a second time) but I fear I would bore you with what you already know. hehe.

*blushes like mad* Suzie, you are so good for my self-esteem...I actually was really nervous about posting this poem because I'd written it while my brain was beating itself up.

I did have trouble naming it, and I admit that "Smoke" is a poor title...it is definitely something that's...not allowing me to sleep...
I'm thinking of going along the lines of the song, the one that's played every year...but I'm still struggling with how to make that come out in a title. Any suggestions?

Anyway, thanks a lot for that comment. That's, like, almost as good as the time Brad told me one of my pieces might be worth an edit.

-Colly

Very nice, I genuinely enjoyed the stanza breaks and the way the poem flowed. There was definatley a nice story to the piece as well.

clothes by the flagpole, and the way we
sang and laughed out loud to keep warm? Do you?

I know that this is part of three-parter, but the "Do you?" at the end seems a little too out of place, a stumbling block on the tongue of the mind, if you will. You may want to either shorten the piece up until the 'Do you?' or else find another way to phrase it. It's too short amongst the rest of the flow.

Otherwise, a very nice piece. I applaud. In my mind.

I really liked this, from the beginning to the end. I am not good with poetry, but this seemed to flow easily. Great job.

Kim

I also thought to get rid of the "Do you?" and that the title needed to be amended.

This was superb and I usually don't leave short comments like this, but I thought I just needed to tell you how much I liked it. Kudos. ^_^

WOW!

This poem was beautiful. It flowed amazingly, and just showed me how a poem so...well, lacking of poetic elements can be so not bland and full of life. I loved this. It's the epitome of good poetry that could have been completely ruined with blandness, if not for your irresisteble poetic magic .

Colleen--


Yuck.

This is a collection of tired platitudes about dancing and love. It's constructed with weighted linebreaks that are at odds with the sentimental theme you're pursuing. It is prosaic and verbose to the point of being excessively detrimental.

I doubt this can be salvaged, although starting something new with:

"What I remember is as we fled
through the wide doors, you disappeared"

might be fruitful.


All the best,
Brad