The Memory

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Darkness, flashing lights,
Glimpses of bodies moving.
Everyone moving to a familiar beat,
Couples grinding to a new extent.
Individuals moving in circles,
Bouncing in turn.

I feel you before I see you,
Behind me, staring.
You step forward
And ask a simple question,
I reply in the like.

We start moving together,
Front to back,
Your hands on my waist,
Slowly moving up to my shoulders.

People move all around us,
But we don’t notice.
All we care about is
Here and now.

Panic starts to rise,
I feel dirty, uncomfortable.
The music fades and you slip
Away, and I flee to my safe zone.

Nothing has changed me as much as
This has, the memory of my first
Dance.
Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole. -Dean, Supernatural




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Hi Teddy!

So, this was cute. I like how your narrator is all scared and that, and your simple, flat imagery I adored. However, I think I wanted to like this, but I really didn't.

Why? I think it boils to the fact that you're trying to make this poem a little too dark for the subject matter. It's a poem about a dance, for heaven sakes. You may be trying to convey nervousness, but if you I suggest something more passive (Maybe you could try 3rd Person). Make it clear to us that the narrator is at a dance.

Try to describe things in simpler ways to make it seem vibrant. He's probably excited until he starts asking the girl to dance, am I right? So try to convey that shift in emotions. What do we do when we're nervous? Shake, sweat and turn red, right? Have the characters acknowledge it somehow.

Hope this helps, and PM me if you have any questions.

-Elinor xo

All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them.

-- Walt Disney




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Well, this is sort of my memory from this past Monday night. This actually happened to me and it was a dark time. I was rebelling against my parents and my teacher. So I was trying to make it dark because I regret this memory a lot.
Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole. -Dean, Supernatural




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Teddybear22 wrote:Panic starts to rise,
I feel dirty, uncomfortable.
The music fades and you slip
Away, and I flee to my safe zone.


This part right here is very realistic. People outside their safe zone normally have a hard time conveying the feeling, and it's a very strong and powerful emotion: discomfort.
Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself.
T.S. Eliot



These were autumn mornings, the time of year when kings of old went forth to conquest; and I, never stirring from my little corner in Calcutta, would let my mind wander over the whole world.
— Rabindranath Tagore, The Cabuliwallah