Pile of Bones

I have never tried this style of poetry. I'm usually quite the rhymer. This is about my grandmother.
Rip me to shreds, please.

A pile of bones is talking to me,
blinking.
Intelligence behind its eyes is
fading, thinning, stretching,
sinking,
into the atmosphere.

Hands, cracked and caked with
life, love, and death
Working and twisting,
worried.

You're crumbling beneath my hands but,
for what could a pile of bones worry for?

Hmm, the part,

fading, thinning, stretching,
sinking,

didn't really fit together like the rest of the poem did, at least, not for me. Fading implies disappearing, whereas thinning and stretching are both synonymous with getting smaller, or...stretched out. and finally, sinking didn't agree with any of the other adjectives. I suppose it does express a varied spectrum of ideas, but I -had it been my poem- would have preferred unity in words. Thankfully for you, it's not my poem, and it seems like it'll stay that way .
Oh, and another thing; you wrote:

Your crumbling beneath my hands but,

When it should really be "you're". Basically, remove the quotation mark and replace it with an 'a' (you are). I have this pet peeve about people who mess this up (and other things, like its and it's).
Overall, it's a pretty good poem. I can kinda see how it relates to your grandmother, but I don't think she'd be impressed by the 'Hands, cracked', 'Working and twisting,' and 'for what could a pile of bones worry for?' lines .

Fixed the your/you're, thanks guess it was a bit too late, eh?
I meant the fading/thinning to show how she was disappearing, but yes i could see the confusion.
A pile of bones fits her characteristics more then you'd imagine.

Hello Kat Train? Remember me, the obnoxious person who critiqued your critique
Yeah, I get a little carried away sometimes.
Anyways,

KatTrain wrote:Hands, cracked and caked with
life, love, and death
Working and twisting,
worried.

You're crumbling beneath my hands but,
for what could a pile of bones worry for?

I really like the last two lines but I feel like they are a conclusion we didn't quite reach from the last stanza.
If I were you, I would take the opportunity to embrace poor grandma; say something like.

working and twisting,
worried. You fold them over mine.

And then the next line, You're crumbling beneath my hands, would be a clearer transition. That being said, my addition is really muddled and opaque, so you may want to think of your own.
And this line,
for what could a pile of bones worry for?
Is a little repetitive. You may want to think about omitting the for at the end and saying something like,
"for who's sake do a pile of bones worry?"
But uh, I am pretty bad at this poetry stuff. So take everything I say with a grain of salt.
I thought your imagery was beautiful; especially since this really relates to me and my grandma. I found this poem really touching. Great Job.
Keep rhyming!
xxooxx
*******The Universe********

Hi Kat! Kamas here.

Unfortunately, your poem is a weaving of cliched line after cliched line. I hate to be harsh, but it's the truth, all these lines are nothing new. Also, your I see the attempt of the use of many adjective, but you only pull it off half way.

--

Hands, cracked and caked with
life, love, and death

Much to often used when referencing to someone older person's hands, or in your case bones.
Sure, everyone lives, everyone loves, everyone dies. But can't you find something more, how to say, special and applies more specifically to your grandmother.

Try to name something, like if she kept her hands in water a lot or if poked herself a lot with sewing needles. Try to create an image, like for the water 'hands launder white' or something. Create a persona, whether it be your grandmother or a random imaginary persona.

A pile of bones is talking to me,
blinking.
Intelligence behind its eyes is
fading, thinning, stretching,
sinking,
into the atmosphere.

The repetitive 'ing' sound could have worked for you, but you abused it's usefulness, reducing it's capacity to help your poem. Also, it would help if you used more colourful adjectives.

For example: fading can become bleaching, paling, dimming or dwindling. Always look at your word possibilities, spice up your vocabulary.

Now, don't let me get you down, this is a good start, it just takes practice. Keep trying free verse at you'll get much better! If you have any questions, feel free to send me a PM.

Kamas

Thanks, you guys.
I'm going to try to work on it (guess from the comments it's going to be an over-haul).

Hi Kat! I'm Kat xD No, seriously xD Nice meeting you! I'll be reviewing, okay?

So, I really liked this. I think it's because of it's light touch of something morbid. How can something morbid be light? Yeah, no idea, but this is how it feels. The only spot the confused me a little was:

Hands, cracked and caked with
life, love, and death

The 'caked part'. I just thought: 'Cake? What?' and I was completely out of the poem for a moment. Those are what we call distractions, but I was mostly distracted because I had no idea what you mean there. Actually, I'd disagree with Kammyzizzle slightly about this. I say keep the 'life, love and death' part but add another line afterwards talking about it. Maybe how it felt when those cracked hands touched you? Maybe.

I liked the end, but it ruins the flow a little bit, so my advice would be break it up a bit.

And that's about it! Hope I've helped and thanks for posting!
- Kat

Hello Kat. I'm Van. ^^

First I'm going to put comments into your work, like so:

A pile of bones is talking to me,
blinking. >I like these lines. It really grabbed my attention, thinking it was literally a pile of bones.
Intelligence behind its eyes is
fading, thinning, stretching,
sinking, >I see you have italicized and underlines some of these; why not keep the pattern in the rest of the poem? This was a fresh twist that sort of fizzled out.
into the atmosphere.

Hands, cracked and caked with
life, love, and death >I agree that this is cliche.
Working and twisting,
worried.

You're crumbling beneath my hands but,
for what could a pile of bones worry for? >I think there's one too many "fors." I'd take out the second one.

This is an okay poem so far, and it could be great with a little work!

Rather than "life, love, and death" you could maybe say something more specific about her.

Don't worry; just work on it a bit.

Thanks for posting and keep writing!