Regret

Bound tight in thread, you sit morose, the world around you cast in blue.
And there is naught but stillness.
Then the music starts,
tentative, reedy,
just enough to make you rise
and search for its source. And as you stand,
the weave of red around your throat comes loose,
unfurling like a banner
borne in battles long ago, a declaration
signed for blood,
with blood,
in blood.

And you throw yourself into the wind with wings of red that stream behind, glowing stark against the world, bright on blue, knifing through, until you can run no further. And then the wings wrap 'round your form, blanketing, smothering, tangling as you try to shake them off. Eventually you do, and they fall with silken grace to lie limp upon the ground. And there, they seem so harmless.

You almost turn away.
You almost walk away.
But you remember the rushing flight, the battle with the wind, and how you felt alive.

And so you pick the wings up, replace them on your shoulders, and dance again.

---

On the one hand, I like this. On the other hand, I don't. This was strongly inspired by a dance piece, "Regret", I watched a couple weeks ago, hence the title.

Hrm...I like this piece a lot.
At first I didn't, but then I did. Kind of like how you like it and how you also don't like it. I'm not a usual fan of prose-poetry, or a combination of the two but it seems like you have combined them very nicely. I would not classify this as quite poetry due to the lack of stanza organization, but I would also not classify this as simply prose. I believe that it must be somewhere in between, which gives me respect for this piece because it's an interesting combination.
I enjoyed reading this, please keep up the great writing!

Well, I think first of with this you need to put it into proper lines and stanzas... At first you had it in lines, but then just wrote it like a paragraph. So, below I'm just going to show you how I would break this up, you don't have to go by it, it is just an example.

Bound tight in thread,
you sit morose,
the world around you cast in blue.
And there is naught but stillness.
Then the music starts,
tentative, reedy,
just enough to make you rise
and search for its source.
And as you stand,
the weave of red
around your throat comes loose,
unfurling like a banner
borne in battles long ago,
a declaration
signed for blood,
with blood,
in blood.

I like this part a lot, though I don't think the "in blood" part is needed, it messes up the ending to me.

And you throw yourself into the wind
with wings of red that stream behind,
glowing stark against the world,
bright on blue, knifing through,
until you can run no further.
And then the wings wrap 'round your form,
blanketing, smothering,
tangling as you try to shake them off.
Eventually you do,
and they fall with silken grace
to lie limp upon the ground.
And there,
they seem so harmless.

I like this part as well.

You almost turn away.
You almost walk away. << Having both of these so close somes off to me. You could say, "You almost turned, almost walked away."
But you remember the rushing flight,
the battle with the wind,
and how you felt alive.

And so you pick the wings up,
replace them on your shoulders,
and dance again.

I like it, its unique. I like the words you used and descripsions. Good job, the only problem I had was the structure, with I pointed out how you could fix, if you wanted to...

Hope this helps,

~Rain~

that is one good peice of imagary, i like the bit when you went into the paragraph (you probably meant this but...) it gives the feeling of motion and action, then when you go back to lines it's where the movement stops (right...) That is such a good idea!

Wow i really like the imagery of this poem. the first few lines failed to draw me in but as you continued i began to love this poem. great writing

Kyllorac wrote:Bound tight in thread, you sit morose, the world around you cast in blue.
And there is naught but stillness.
Then the music starts,
tentative, reedy,
just enough to make you rise
and search for its source. And as you stand,
the weave of red around your throat comes loose,
unfurling like a banner
borne in battles long ago, a declaration
signed for blood,
with blood,
in blood. I really like this stanza. Such powerful truth about searching for the music. I love the images you are conjuring here.

And you throw yourself into the wind with wings of red that stream behind, glowing stark against the world, bright on blue, knifing through, until you can run no further. And then the wings wrap 'round your form, blanketing, smothering, tangling as you try to shake them off. Eventually you do, and they fall with silken grace to lie limp upon the ground. And there, they seem so harmless. Once again, a wonderful stanza of sorts. I am liking your imagery more and more.

You almost turn away.
You almost walk away.
But you remember the rushing flight, the battle with the wind, and how you felt alive. Ah yes, the addiction to that which really isn't that healthy.

And so you pick the wings up, replace them on your shoulders, and dance again.

I thought this was a very good story. I kinda think that this a a different view on being addicted to something, whether it be reviews, cocaine, or anything else. It is a wonderful story. Although there is one thing: Is this a story or a poem? Because the first bit is like a poem, then there is a paragraph. Overall, I really liked this. You are a remarkable writer. Please keep writing.

Totally did this on time. >.> Yup.

We had a fair discussion on what your issue is, so, considering that, I won't make this a line by line.

I think this piece is kind of a step away from your typical voice. And to be honest I don't like it as much. With this voice, you've taken away the intelligence you hold in your poetry, and replaced with a very manufactured defiant and charming tone. It's not you, so it sounds odd and forced. You have to settle in the happy middle of your dictionary tone and this tone. One that comes naturally when you write, without pulling out the dictionary or rewriting the same line over and over.

You know how every time, I bring up your ardent use of the english dictionary? Yes, it needs to be cut down on. But you can't depend on words to serve as the intelligence basis for your poetry. Here, you've cut down really well on those words, it's a nice balance, and if it pleases you, you can even be slightly more flamboyant with your vocabulary.

BUT. It seems to serve as your comforter, when you strip that all away, you seem unsure about what to say. You seem terribly awkward without it.

Another thing that makes the voice even more awkward, would be the flow.
It's not the way you break it up, but rather, the words you use. For example, the stanza is filled with hard sounds.
Hard sounds in poetry work like speed bumps. Words like declaration, blood, reedy. The english language isn't a particularly smooth and soft language, but you have to be able to manipulate the words for proper flow. I hope I won't have to point this out for you anymore ^.

Connections, hm. Better. You continue the thought of wings and red and battles/dancing. Buttt where did the music go? I'd forgotten about it by the time I'd gotten to the end of the second stanza. Think of making some sort of french braid, if you know what that is/what I mean.

You take a strand of hair, continue it to the end, but in the process of braiding that one strand your adding other strands to it. If that makes sense.
You start off with one idea and continue it while integrating other ideas into the mass. And when your done with your thoughts and expansion you end it off.

/That was a really girly metaphor...

I'll probably have another conversation with you sometime soon, and I'm tired. So this will have to do.

Kamas

This is good, but the second paragraph ruined the flow of this poem, it feels as if you seem unsure where to break it especially the first line ‘Bound tight in thread, you sit morose, the world around you cast in blue’. Seriously I am a big fan of this poem now, particularly the words, the imagery I just really feel the emotion. Just please cut it nicely up and listen to how it sounds if you do. You have to do it justice. Perfect.