Holmes

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Holme’s Last Resort

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight,
for what a sight it was.

His twitching eyes
his bulging veins.

Sherlock Holmes,
champion of reason,
master of observation,
humbled.

Forced to rely on that which he so disdained,
and from a child no less.

“Here.”
He tossed the flowing dark
object at me contemptuously.
Ignoring his skeptical stare, I closed my hands around
the grainy cloth.
The man vanished from my sight.

Waves of despair
Burning steel
Scarlet liquid
and a muffled pop.

Clouding vision
fading steps
drying red
and a mahogany floor.

And then,

The air thins
and my throat trembles

Wheezing, uncontrollable wheezing,
color drains
body wanes
void.

“HUGHLEY!” I yelled
as I flung the searing cloth at the wide eyed man.
“His name is James Hughley.”

---Ohi D.




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Wow. I really have no idea what this poem is about, apart from, obviously Sherlock Holmes. What I can say is that the structure is good, although I think's there is unecesarry capitalization in some places that kind of throw the smooth flow off.

Other than that, it was good. What I understood of it- could someone please fill me in? Maybe I'm just having a stupid day.

Eimear
We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

Oscar Wilde.




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order wrote:Holme’s Last Resort

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight,
for what a sight it was.

His twitching eyes
his bulging veins.

Sherlock Holmes,
champion of reason,
master of observation,
humbled. I like the start, but maybe you could combine this with the previous 2 lines?

Forced to rely on that which he so disdained,
and from a child comma no less.

“Here.”
He tossed the flowing dark awkward line break
object at me contemptuously.
Ignoring his skeptical stare, I closed my hands around
the grainy cloth.
The man vanished from my sight.

Waves of despair
Burning steel
Scarlet liquid
and a muffled pop.

Clouding vision
fading steps
drying red
and a mahogany floor. Great imagery :)

And then,

The air thins
and my throat trembles

Wheezing, uncontrollable wheezing,
color drains
body wanes effective rhyme
void.

“HUGHLEY!” I yelled
as I flung the searing cloth at the wide eyed man.
“His name is James Hughley.”

---Ohi D.


Original idea. Overall, I really enjoyed it :)
~Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You can never tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things~

Away until August 31st (possibly longer)




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Thank you for the comments.

Eimear-
This poem was basically about Sherlock Holmes encountering a mystery that he could not solve using reason and evidence so he is forced to count on supernatural forces, which he -as a practical person- looks down on. Here that source is the psychic who has random visions to figure out the murder.



Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.
— Brené Brown