the betrayal of winter

Winter ice on your unsheathed knife
frozen blood and frozen tears
newly spilt, so young and brittle,
against my shoulder you whispered lies
where once hope rose in cold eyes,
spring petals suffocate in the winter mist.

Morning sun at 11:17am cracks battered ice
reveals the frosty underlayer of forgotten secrets,
crushed and broken, like the summer flowers, torn
by november wind, worn
on your chest, a passing memory of what I lost.

Sweet aromas stifle the real taste of winter's bite,
your tender kiss doesn't heal the poisoned wound
across my back, so newly wrought
by your painful embrace; hidden amongst your cold hand
was the gleam of a sharpened edge, bright yet so bland.

Great poem. This was my favourite line;

the gleam of a sharpened edge, bright yet so bland.

This was a very powerful line and a great ending.

Excellent poem, but I think you could gain a lot from switching to present tense throughout. For instance:
"reveals the frosty underlayer of forgotten secrets, "
sounds a lot better as
"revealing the frosty underlayer of forgotten secrets,"

Also, changing "was" to "is" in the last line makes it more emphatic.

But, it's excellent as it stands. Great imagery and great flow.

when I read the title I was immediatly in the frame of mind of a Frost work.

What I liked -

1. the inner-stanza rhyme, it lead a nice feel to it.

2.

Winter ice on your unsheathed knife
frozen blood and frozen tears
newly spilt, so young and brittle,

- nice intro, when I first read the 3rd line, I read spilt as split, and when I went back I realized it was a different word, but it held an interesting connotation though

3. why 11:17? I like it though, using an exact time to center the poem.

4.

reveals the frosty underlayer of forgotten secrets,

- ooo nioce alliteration, the rhythm in this line is perfect.

5.

crushed and broken, like the summer flowers, torn
by november wind, worn
on your chest, a passing memory of what I lost.

- this has to be my favorite part of the poem, I don't know exactly why but I love the rhyme and the word choice, purely genius these lines.

6. I really like how you ended it, the bright yet so bland, clinched it really.

Things that I feel could be worked on -

1.

where once hope rose in those cold eyes

- the those sounds superfluous when I read it outloud, which I do when reading poetry. I think it should be deleted.

2.

Morning sun at 11:17am cracks battered ice
reveals the frosty underlayer of forgotten secrets,

- You change tenses here with cracks, I think you should stick to one tense to make it flow easier, my that's just my feeling.


Hope that helps.
-El-

I liked it, but I didn't really start to like it until this line:
spring petals suffocate in the winter mist.
The beginning seems all right, but didn't really catch my interest.

Morning sun at 11:17am cracks battered ice
The 'am' seems a bit redundant.

your tender kiss doesn't heal the poisoned wound
across my back, so newly wrought
by your painful embrace; hidden amongst your cold hand
was the gleam of a sharpened edge, bright yet so bland.
I really liked this part. The only thing I had a problem with was 'bright yet so bland.' Although it kept your pattern, it seemed sort of out of place.

Reading this, I really felt something from it. Really nice job, Jack. Keep it up.

Thanks a lot guys.

why 11:17? I like it though, using an exact time to center the poem.

Uh, well ... that's when the thing happened that this whole poem is based on. I guess only two people in the world would understand it.

I liked it, very descriptive. It can realate to something goin on in my life.

Winter ice on your unsheathed knife
frozen and frozen tears
newly spilt, so young and brittle,
against my shoulder you whispered lies
where once hope rose in cold eyes,
spring petals suffocate in the winter mist. I don't like this paragraph, its too cold, and there isn't much emotion. The rhyming went good until the last line, but it was ok.

Morning sun at 11:17am battered ice
reveals the frosty underlayer of forgotten secrets,
crushed and broken, like the summer flowers, torn
by november wind, worn
on your chest, a passing memory of what I lost. Interesting...

Sweet aromas stifle the real taste of winter's bite,
your tender kiss doesn't heal the poisoned wound
across my back, so newly wrought
by your painful embrace; hidden amongst your cold hand
was the gleam of a sharpened edge, bright yet so bland. Yes, that last line is very dramatic This was an interesting poem, and quite dramatic. It made me feel cold! Good job

Yeh, boni, you got it. The poem is pretty much devoid of emotion, because it mirrors what (I) the writer felt at the time, and compares this to the onset of a (cold) winter. Or at least that's what I like to think.

I tend not to think of winter as that which is devoid of emotion, empathy, rage and passions, but that which comes to crush them. As a globe, though, we do have a strange fascination with coldness (Global Warming, cryogenization, post-modern frigidity, 'cool' austerity)...Anyway, on to the poem.

The first stanza needs more punctuation. I think and, as a general rule, practice punctuating poetry by punctuating after the poem meets the end. If, for instance, you were to punctuate the first stanza to the best of your ability, you would encounter fragments that make no sense; rather, they taper off, fizzle out...

The second stanza is less disjointed but, by the use of abstractions, is just as bad. I cannot, for the life of me, picture or understand what, precisely, is on her(? or is it my?) chest. I do believe there's a lot you can do with that poeticization of "The Scarlet Letter," but try to keep from reaching for the stars and coming up with streetlamps.

The third stanza, frankly, is where this poem really lifts off -- but it's still incomplete. Why/How is she(? am I?) stabbing you in the back? Here, the poem's other two stanzas fall lifeless. There's no explanation for this, and it bothers me. You've wrought your poem with emotions (emptiness/fizzling to nothing, guilt, and betrayal), but I'm not making any coherent/cohesive bonds.

Ultimately, my suggestion is: punctuate! punctuate! punctuate! Once you've done that, fix fragments and incomplete thoughts -- make them (w)hole -- and then you'll be able to decipher what is important and what isn't. The best poem (in the modern understanding of that term) is short and powerful.

Best of luck. :)

Cheers Brad! That's the best critique I've got in a long time.

I have to say, Jack, I got chills reading this, especially the last line. It was beautifully written. The only thing I'd say is in the last stanza, I'd change 'amongst' to amidst'. The words 'hidden amongst' sound a bit strange when implied to a singular subject (the hand).