Contract Everlasting

I signed the deal with a common passion,
And all that remained was a burnt-out name.
The sparks ate at the scroll with Gluttony.
And that's how deals are made -- simply as that.

A menagerie of bookshelves hold empty paper,
My life -- illusions of happy castings.
Each document deal is done in formaldehyde,
To seal the words I wrote posthumously.

In retrospect I see through through the looking glass;
Passing through to the other side in hopes that
The metamorphosis of soul and glass will once again
Make me whole. My gaseous regression isn't enough.

I've learned harshly that all regrets don't have two paths,
For this regret has come to a dead end -- literally.
Now I'm left with ectoplasm Desires -- Not life,
Although my true want is time -- to Rewind.

Many rules were broken today in hopes of an agreement --
With the spirits that keep me here. No casting will help.
Sadly, my life lesson was learned in death.
Sadly, the deal was done. Karma had got me today.

Hi Jon! June here!

Like I just mentioned to you, this poem is much better than your previous, although it's a bit wordy in some places. (I'm aware that I didn't say it like that, but watevski)

I think this could be improved by eliminating some things from this. Aside from rhyme, I notice that many of your poems follow the four-line stanza scheme, which is also another limitation on your creativity. I'd like to see you break from that.

I signed the deal with a common passion,

And all that remained was a burnt-out name.

The sparks ate at the scroll with Gluttony.

And that's how deals are made -- simply as that.

I think this stanza holds a lot but I would cut some of it out. This is supposed to be dramatic [based on the genre you posted it in] so, you want to eliminate narrative terms as much as humanely possible!

[s]I signed[/s] the deal was signed with a common passion,

[s]And all that remained was a[/s] leaving only a burnt-out name.

[s]The[/s] sparks ate at the scroll with [s]G[/s][b]gluttony.

[s]And that's how deals are made -- simply as that.[/s]

With this done, I eliminated some words that cushion everything [without necessarily adding any juice]. Don't narrate the poem to us. Let it speak for itself.

A menagerie of bookshelves hold empty paper,

My life -- [s]illusions of happy castings.[/s][INSERT WHAT THE LIFE IS HERE]

[s]Each document deal is done in formaldehyde,

To seal the words I wrote posthumously.[/s]

SO! To speak, this stanza is nearly worthless, Jon. With each stanza, you want to give us a whole big point to enjoy once we're through with reading. I don't feel you have done that here.

To simply put it, I think you should make it clearer that this character has a life of documents [and throw some supporting details in like photos and other sort of memoirs]. You're explaining the documents too much, and I don't like it.

Also. Big words. No.

[s]In retrospect I see through through the looking glass;

Passing through to the other side in hopes that

The metamorphosis of soul and glass will once again

Make me whole. My gaseous regression isn't enough.[/s]

*dusts hands off*

I feel that this stanza does not connect with the first. It's in the middle of the poem, and it doesn't have to totally connect with the first, but I think you've strode too far with this without clarifying the basic details.

For instance, you looking through the looking glass hopefully is not a wonderous thing. Make us care about this-- give us a reason to understand his hopes and such. Shadow in his angst; make it clear to us why and how he lives this way.

With this said, it's too preachy. You're basically giving yourself up into this, depending on a trivial object to recreate you and it's not working out so well; I would scrap this stanza, because it's not giving much to the poem that we can benefit from.

I've learned harshly that all regrets don't have two paths,

For this regret has come to a dead end -- literally.

Now I'm left with ectoplasm Desires -- Not life,

Although my true want is time -- to Rewind.

Remember, avoid using the narrative. This isn't a rule; it's a strong suggestion, because narrating a poem comes off as preachy, demanding, and restricts creativity because we can't understand for ourselves-- we're taking someone else's view points and looking through them.

With that said, stories and poems that are all I said, I did, I want become pretty boring pretty fast. This is because the reason I mentioned above; without having it in personal format, you are leaving room for the audience to better relate.

I would also break this stanza up and toss it out the window [with Lin's waterbottles] because you're not giving us enough. This is a stanza of self pity, self pity, pity me. It's not giving your audience what they want or need to hear. We need to be able to understand this character in a way that we would want to be understood.

Think how you think. However your thoughts form in your head, write them out that way. Don't use big words like formaldehyde and ectoplasm-- they're worthless unless they are building something up. Otherwise, it's just deadwood.

Basically, your character is telling us they live in a sea of documents. It sounds like a really, really boring home office, and the character really wants to get out.

[s]Many[/s] rules were broken today in hopes of an agreement --

With the spirits that keep me here. [s]No casting will help.[/s]

[s]Sadly, my life lesson was learned in death.[/s]

[s]Sadly,[/s] the deal was done. Karma had got me today.

You don't need to tell, tell, tell when it's not narrative poetry! =P


You use dashes alot, but lots of times, I don't find them necessary. I don't understand the spirits. I can understand if something was keeping this character bound to the same routine, but I don't like the spirits. I feel that it's too abstract of a thing to have here; originally, everything is plain and dances in realism, but spirits are doubted [I know they exist, but they are doubted often]. It's pretty hard for your audience to get a good grasp on this.

Also, I feel that it was rushed. You introduce the character-- I really do like your first stanza, for that matter-- and then you seem to be push, push, pushing us forward until the character dies.

TIP: Let it flow. Don't pull it.

Although you were unrhymed here, you restricted yourself a lot. I think it restricted and limited your creativity-- and I don't think it's what you should do.

So! Your challenge:

Write a poem, unstructured and unrhymed; I don't want to see 4 line stanzas. Explain your ideas enough so that you don't leave us hanging, but do not expand on the trivialties of the poem. And, close it effectively.




Also. This is what you get for that dare. Don't do that to me again, unless you want more reviews like this one.

June

Jon --

As I'm sure everyone else has pointed out, this poem is exceptionally wordy. This seems to be a poem in which you're attempting to showcase your extensive vocabularly and your deep, ponderous philosophies. Unfortunately, this doesn't much make for a poem that's particularly interesting for the reader. See, I like poetry that goes new places. I like poetry that plays with my perception of things. Feeds me strong images, takes me places, tells me something new. I think June said it -- essentially, you're trying too hard. What's more, you're trying too hard to write something classical. Here, you're not telling a story, you're not painting a scene, you're not writing anything active. It's a passive narration of a concept. How boring is that? I want something dynamic. Something unique, you know?

First, you need to focus on the language. Poetry isn't about wordplay or fancy adjectives. Poetry is all about the images and the feelings and the impressions. It's all about writing something living. Something that breathes into me. Use similes, metaphors, good descriptions. Use exciting, different words. Think outside the definition. Twist a word. Make your own word. Take this sentence:

The pelicans and the seagulls flew outside on a cloudy day.

Now, insert the different, boundary-pushing words:

The scoopchested pelicans and the disinherited, scolding seagulls flew white against the gray sky.

I mean, come on! Scoopchested! Isn't that wonderful? Doesn't that bring to life several senses? Doesn't it make you stop and think?

Second, you need to focus on the story. Or, at least, the conflict. Is there conflict here? But, you might reply, a poem is a poem, not a story. You're completely correct. But everything must have conflict. Our lives, a picture, a story, a poem, an atom, change. Life is conflict. Conflict is interesting, stimulating. And if nothing changes, by the end of the poem -- if your narrator or whatever doesn't travel from point A to point B, you've done something wrong (aside: head nod in Snoink's direction).

Bottom line, read some poetry. And stop reading your Robert Frost and your Emily Dickinson. Read some modern poetry. Poetry written after the 60s. Loosen up. Transcend the stanza. Let your mind ramble. Write uncontrollably. Write a poem in all of thirty minutes, no breaks, stream of consciousness-style. It's very thereuputic.

Good luck.

-Kylan

Thank you June and Kylan!

Kylan -- You're 100% right. I've only ever read older poets, and, it has influenced my poetry. I'll definitely read some newer ones. (It'll be a new experience. ^_^)

Anyway, thank you both!