Delusion

Vivid scene of an angels’ light.
Graves that open up at midnight.
The devil’s smile hidden in a picture.
Religion makes our life richer.
Such stories they give us a vision,
All that leads to a great delusion .

Was your body cut by hells blades?
Did you sleep under heavens shade?
Heaven and hell is but a plain lie;
All just claims with no alibi.
All just stories to make us secure.
These stories are lies they can’t be pure.

Forget this delusion, listen to what I say.
But you won’t listen, you’ll just sit and pray.
Pray to go to heaven, and not to hell.
I wish someone hits you, with a reality bell.

Hi, Young Gun! June here, welcome to YWS!

There are a few things in this poem that detract from the overall message/point of this, dear. Let's have a look:

In the first stanza, I feel that you're pressing the beginning. I often say that the beginning of your poem, story, or whatever piece of writing should be the part that you put your best effort in, dear. The beginning is your one chance to impress your audience.

Here, I think your beginning was okay. It didn't especially appeal to me, because I felt as if the rhyme was being pulled, instead of flowing freely. The lines here are big, dear. You can almost build a poem from every line in the opening stanza, dear. There's very little connection between these lines; you are giving us this information, and before it's allowed to sink in and be interpreted, you move on to a new picture.

I'm not so fond of the raising of questions in the second stanza. It's not a bad thing, but I kind of think it should be less obvious. You're asking these questions, and you aren't completely answering them.

There's a strange lack of connection here. It's a cool piece, yes! But it's kind of confusing! You're giving us one cool image after another, and without connecting words and stanzas, dear, we easily have trouble interpreting.


Also! I am not entirely fond of switching your modes of speaking! Initially, you're informing, next, you're questioning, and finally you are demanding. It makes for... a restricted read, to say the least, because you're not leaving much for the audience to interpret, dearie.


Nice work, I do think you have an excellent theme, and I feel that with a bit of work, you'll have a masterpiece.

June

I'm confused. I feel like I'm playing connect the dots when I should be painting by numbers. That is, you as the writer should make the initial connections between ideas, but we as readers need to step up and color the picture with our own understanding.

Let me pass on the best writing advice someone gave me: do you know what you're trying to say? Overall, when you've got imagery and theme and language, why write this specifically? I think that just needs some thinking through.

I'd say more, but June's already got the specifics ^_^

Happy writing!

Hey!

This was a bit confusing. You're showering us with too many images, and the reader can hardly connect to this piece at all. Things to think about:

1) Meaning. What are you trying to tell the reader?

2) Imageries. How well do you present them?

Like June, I felt like your rhythm was forced. You shouldn't let your poem get pulled by your rhyme; freestyle is a good short time subsitute to really bring out the meaning of your poem.

This has a lot of potential. With work, this could be a very cool poem.

Keep writing!

zOe

Young gun wrote:Vivid scene of an angels’ light.

This is a vivid scene of an angels light:

Young gun wrote:Graves that open up at midnight.
The devil’s smile hidden in a picture.

For the first two lines, instead of having periods you should have commas.

Young gun wrote:Religion makes our life richer.
Such stories they give us a vision,

Such stories, they give us a vision.

Young gun wrote:All that leads to a great delusion .

This sounds a little awkwardly phrased. You could either replace 'All' with 'One' or say 'All of that' instead of 'All That'.

Young gun wrote:Was your body cut by hells blades?
Did you sleep under heavens shade?

hell's.

Young gun wrote:Heaven and hell is but a plain lie;

I'd take out Heaven and hell to avoid repetition, and replace with 'They are'

Young gun wrote:All just claims with no alibi.

Huh? Do you think you could replace 'alibi' with a synonym more readers will understand...?

Young gun wrote:All just stories to make us secure.
These stories are lies they can’t be pure.

These stories are lies, they cannot be pure.

Young gun wrote:Forget this delusion, listen to what I say.
But you won’t listen, you’ll just sit and pray.

Good Rhyming / Description.

Young gun wrote:Pray to go to heaven, and not to hell.
I wish someone hits you, with a reality bell.

I wish someone would hit you with a reality bell.

Overall

I thoroughly enjoyed this poem - It was very nice. I am Christian, but not the crazy 'ohmigod' kind and I like how this shows a sort of philosophy that you came up with it. Fix those grammar mistakes, and It will be perfect.

Vivid scene of an angels’ light. <--- STOP!

Poetry should be all about using imagery to express some meaning. By saying "vivid scene of an angels' light" you are starting off by blowing off imagery. And why? Because you think that's going to somehow get to your point faster. You don't really care about the image... you care instead of getting to your meaning as quickly as possible so that you can slam your meaning on the readers' faces so that we see what you mean without actually expressing the other side. Good politics, bad poetry.

The thing is, when you finally get to your point, it doesn't really do anything. You're so focused on hitting us with your point that it completely miss it when it comes. Subtlety is lovely.

Let me show you a poem!

The Mill
by Edwin Arlington Robinson

The miller's wife had waited long,
The tea was cold, the fire was dead;
And there might yet be nothing wrong
In how he went and what he said:
"There are no millers any more,"
Was all that she had heard him say;
And he had lingered at the door
So long that it seemed yesterday.

Sick with a fear that had no form
She knew that she was there at last;
And in the mill there was a warm
And mealy fragrance of the past.
What else there was would only seem
To say again what he had meant;
And what was hanging from a beam
Would not have heeded where she went.

And if she thought it followed her,
She may have reasoned in the dark
That one way of the few there were
Would hide her and would leave no mark:
Black water, smooth above the weir
Like starry velvet in the night,
Though ruffled once, would soon appear
The same as ever to the sight.

First of all, please notice that the poem never says, "THEY GAVE UP HOPE AND COMMITTED SUICIDE." No. It just explains what happened, using imagery to make the situation seem completely hopeless.

So with your poem, it was mostly slanted to tell Christians that their hope was misplaced in God. So check this poem:

The Chimney Sweeper
by William Blake

When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue,
Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep,
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

Theres little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lambs back was shav'd, so I said.
Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair

And so he was quiet. & that very night.
As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight
That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black,

And by came an Angel who had a bright key
And he open'd the coffins & set them all free.
Then down a green plain leaping laughing they run
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind.
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

This talks about a chimney sweeper in Britain a long time ago. If you don't know, what they basically did was they got young orphans to crawl into chimneys and sweep them. If the children got stuck, nobody bothered to remove them because they didn't matter anyway.

So in this story, you have God appearing to these poor, neglected children that are trapped in the chimney (read: the coffins = chimneys), giving them a promise of life and then sending them in the dark again where they are trapped in their graves and forced to do menial work to keep themselves from starvation. In the end, the point becomes, "Who is your God?"

And trust me: there's a lot more than just that. We could go on and on about the word choice, the imagery, the history behind this, but this is a great poem that can uses storytelling, conflict, and imagery to show how cruel God (or the idea of God) is and how little anyone can rely on Him.

So don't slam us in the head with a message. That's what politicians do, not poets. If you need to, look deeply at your beliefs. Why do you not believe in God? Instead of just listing a bunch of questions that circle around pointlessly, choose a question and answer it thoroughly. "Was your body cut by hells blades?" What does this mean? What are you referring to? Instead of saying "cut by hell's blades" what if you described how they were being cut by hell's blades?

The point is this: you should not be afraid of vivid imagery. Vivid imagery will make your poem great. And this is a serious subject that many poets before you made into great poetry. Read poetry, discover who you are, and then follow your muse. You will not be disappointed.