Scar

SCAR




The wound he left on my heart,
That’s the one that tore my soul apart.
That’s where his love hurt me the most,
That’s where my heart refuses to close.
Thought I know I don’t love him anymore,
That gap in my chest feels so sore.

The scar on my heart, a sign of my devotion,
That’s proof of my love, a mark of my emotion.

The dagger that pierced, it’s blue, cold steel,
That I still feel its edge, serrated, the sharp stinging feel.
Its jagged, rusted end made the first touch on my skin,
His right arm made the cut while his left held me still.
With his warm breath, he muttered my last rites,
With his cold lips he kissed my last good bye.
Sweet memories of his love in front of my eyes flashed,
Stale coldness of my blood from my torn heart gushed.
Pain of the wound matched the blankness in his eyes,
Poignant as that was emptiness took over my mind.

The scar on my heart, a sign of my devotion,
That’s proof of my love, a mark of my emotion.

Dagger in hand, colored scarlet and black,
Foot on my chest, weighing heavy and sad,
Emotionless his eyes, hapless his soul,
Song less his smile, smiling dreadful and sore.
Black his wings, dark his eyes,
Pale his skin, against the bright moonlight.
Hollow winds, twinkling stars,
And this sin, against the summer night.

Hi, charmcaster. I'm Freak.

I'd first like to start off by telling you that this is a good poem and very easy to relate to.
Nitpicks:
You start almost every stanza with a prepositional phrase and really, it starts to get annoying. Try a wider span of vocabulary and not as simple words.

Thought I know I don’t love him anymore,

*"Though," no T.

That’s proof of my love, a mark of my emotion.

The part, "A mark of my emotion" isn't really relevant to the context, unless you wanna say something like...A mark of my emotions/feelings for you, because otherwise it doesn't make sense.

The dagger that pierced, it’s blue, cold steel,
That I still feel its edge, serrated, the sharp stinging feel.

This sentence has way too many commas. Just describe how it felt, not so much the "edge" or "first touch."

With his cold lips he kissed my last good bye

Maybe it should be, "He kissed his last good byes?"

Poignant as that was emptiness took over my mind.

You should leave out the, "that was" and add The.

Song less his smile,

How is this possible?

Anyway, good job, and keep writing. PM me for any help or questions.

~CreativeFreak,
'Cause I'm cool like that (not).

Hey charmcaster,

Repetition and unoriginality kill any chance this work had of any emotional impact past disappointment. Scars on hearts and wounding in this way is such an overused idea. You also pretty much repeat this theme over and over through your lines, never really moving from your initial point and failing to tell a moving story. I hate to say it but this is "emo" verse, not real verse.

Charm,

The problem that I am having here is pretty much the same as Firestarter expressed: this is all overused. I think it's possible to get away with an overused them if there is originality in the way that you present it, or perhaps if you narrowed this topic down and expressed another aspect of it. Right now, it's clunky as it stands, and because of that, I'm having a difficult time trying to appreciate it.

Another thing that stood out to me was your phrasing in the lines. I personally feel that if what you need to say isn't clear and coherently clear, then you have to make a better effort to put it in. You have lines like this,

Stale coldness of my blood from my torn heart gushed.

that read awkwardly because few people, if anyone, speak like this in conversation. In my opinion, you need to get rid of a lot here. There are a lot of extra words and phrases and lines that don't make sense, and those all need to go if you want this poem to be good. You need to discard all of the pieces in this that aren't making sense and replenish this with verses better suited and perhaps better images for the ride.

June

Holy crap, can we have anymore capital T's at the beginning of verses? There are way too many capital T's at the beginning of verses. Part of the appeal of poetry is simply aesthetics: how the poem looks when viewed from afar. It is sometimes indicative of what you'll soon be reading. Monosyllabic words indicate a quick, bouncing rhythm. Choppy verses indicate a waterfall of words. Longer verses indicate wistful thoughts.

And the repetitive T's are indeed indicative of what we read: Repetitive.

The wound he left on my heart
Is where he tore my soul apart.
My heart hurts the most
And still refuses to close.
Though I don't love him anymore, (not thought)
My gaping chest feels so sore.

Doesn't that look better than all those T's standing neatly on top of each other?

However, it doesn't fix the fact that you need to use interesting words, comparisons, ideas, and images. Imagine if you were a divorce lawyer and all day everyday you get these clients who say, "I'm divorcing him because he cheated on me with the maid." Well, tragic, surely. But to you the divorce lawyer (or us, the reader) who encounters that case several times everyday, it becomes, "Blah blah blah."

The best writers read a lot. A lot. They read all the work that's out there. They see what makes it, what doesn't, what there's an abundance of, and what there's a shortage of. They learn new ideas and disregard old ones. They differentiate themselves and break from the pack. No one is great by writing what everyone else has written on a lonely Friday night: "He broke my heart. I loved him so much. I am scarred forever. I feel as if I am dying."

So think of new comparisons and ideas and images that few others have used. Expand on them and make them your own.

charmcaster wrote:SCAR

The wound he left on my heart,
That’s the one that tore my soul apart.
That’s where his love hurt me the most,
That’s where my heart refuses to close.
Thought I know I don’t love him anymore, (Would be knew and didn't)
That gap in my chest feels so sore.

The scar on my heart, a sign of my devotion,
That’s proof of my love, a mark of my emotion.(This is so sweet!)

The dagger that pierced, it’s blue, cold steel,
That I still feel its edge, serrated, the sharp stinging feel.
Its jagged, rusted end made the first touch on my skin,
His right arm made the cut while his left held me still.
With his warm breath, he muttered my last rites,
With his cold lips he kissed my last good bye.
Sweet memories of his love in front of my eyes flashed,
Stale coldness of my blood from my torn heart gushed.
Pain of the wound matched the blankness in his eyes,
Poignant as that was emptiness took over my mind.

The scar on my heart, a sign of my devotion,
That’s proof of my love, a mark of my emotion.

Dagger in hand, colored scarlet and black,
Foot on my chest, weighing heavy and sad,
Emotionless his eyes, hapless his soul,
Song less his smile, smiling dreadful and sore.
Black his wings, dark his eyes,
Pale his skin, against the bright moonlight.
Hollow winds, twinkling stars,
And this sin, against the summer night.

Wow, such great emotion. Keep writing. (sorry my reviews suck)