Story's End

When the jaws of broken wounds,
become etched with bulletholes,
when tapestries shred themselves
to fragments as they spill from peeling walls,
when torches burn out in darkness,
when flaming arrows crumble in flight,
when finally the war ceases and
both sides are buried in the snow,
when the world freezes over and
the ink is indistinguishable from the blood,
when life blows in the undercurrents of death,
our story will at last be over.

Good imagery.

I know that's not remotely helpful, but that's all I can say about this. I have no nit-picks.

~Blue

I can only agree with Blue. It was beautiful, and romantic...that was what you meant, right? There's something else good about it, it's not a message-giver so much as a poem that is only halfway there, the reader has to finish it with their interpretation.

A very dark poem that creates a sorrowful picture in my mind. I admire the end line and the over all tone of this poem. It intreagues me how one can come up with such great ideas! keep up the great work!

Alrighty, Kafka. This will be a shorter one, but let's see what we can do here.

Kafkaescence wrote:When skulls crushed with bones

Not very impressed with the first line. Based on your poetry (in general) I know you're quite capable of kicking off something amazing. This line sounds odd because 1) I usually see "crushed by," not "crushed with" 2) It looks as if you're trying to say that the bones are crushing the skulls. Think about it... bones... crushing skulls. Not very destructive or triumphant, and doesn't leave me with a sense of completion (I'd expect it to, given the title). But, as usual, just my opinion. You don't necessarily have to agree, here. You're an awesome writer with or without my comments.

Kafkaescence wrote:become etched with bulletholes,
when tapestries tear themselves
apart as they fall from peeling walls,

Love these lines, though "tear themselves apart" is a little weak. Other than that, though, excellent imagery here. It really gives the reader that "this is the end" feeling.

Kafkaescence wrote:when torches burn out in darkness,
when flaming arrows crumble in flight,
when finally the war ceases and
both sides are buried in the snow,

1) torches burning out in the darkness, but I'd replace "burning out" with an adjective that's more abrupt OR an adjective that enhances the idea that the torch has been burning for ages and is now finally extinguished. 2) "crumble" is good, but I bet you can come up with something that's better. It's not the end of the world if you don't - technically, this word works fine - but I bet you can find something stronger. 3) I love the "buried in the snow" bit. It makes me think of Valley Forge.

Kafkaescence wrote:when the world freezes over and
the ink is indistinguishable from the blood,
when life blows in the undercurrents of death,
our story will at last be over

1) Ice is so awesome in poetry and I don't know why. x) 2) So is ink - the second line is awesome. 3) The third line is even more awesome. 4) Sad face! I don't want this poem to be over. Obviously you don't want to end with too much punch in this piece because you want a sense of conclusion, but be careful not to take away emotion all together. You're on the verge of doing just that to the ending, in my opinion.

Well. I guess it didn't end up being very short, eh? Haha. Sorry if some of this doesn't make sense - running low on sleep, here. Overall I liked this a lot. This poem is pretty simple compared to your usual work, which is good. Being able to work with different styles of writing never hurt anyone Great work, Kafka.

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