Young Writers Society

we’re sprawled out on the dirty canvases,
disasterpieces found in messy tubes
of red and yellow and blue and white.
we were mingling colors, mumbling curiosities from one another
even before he came along and birthed us onto white cotton,
slapping our smiles on with his artistic scowl.

he swirled blue into yellow into red into white and filled
our skin with pores that breathed liquid and filled our lungs with sluggish memories
and unheard whispers, that would be trapped under a cloth to keep out dust.
we could only sing to another one through our never-moving eyes, mine
adoring and yours turned down in condescension. I hated these poses,
the way I always found myself just barely leaning into you,
hoping to catch every glance and every misshapen word that might
spill from your lips,
while you smirk and smile and turn your nose up.

but, I’m stuck here, painted arms and painted legs
and painted eyes just as they were pressed in.
I’m held together with pale nimble fibers,
plunging in and out and out and right into my skin, sewn
into unintentional life and color and love with someone I never knew...
it hurts. it all hurts.


Author's Note:

Spoiler

So, to be perfectly honest, I'm really unhappy with this. I've always loved this title (from Slipknot), and I've been wanting to write a good piece based off of it for months (pretty much ever since I started poetry) and I just can't write anything I like. This piece was supposed to be entirely different, but I'm just having trouble with it, and the edits have left it weird.
From all the stuff I've written on "Disasterpiece" this is the closest I've come to even remotely liking one of them. Any suggestions on how to make it better would be loved.

Thanks for reading!
-Coral-

I actually like it a lot. What exactly do you dislike?

It's definitely an interesting idea, all portrayed through a neatly constructed metaphor. You went about the actual format in an odd way -- it reads like prose, albeit prose which is undoubtedly aided by the line- and verse-breaks. You definitely did a great job with that; the spacing of the sentences and of the stanzas gives this poem a gentle, rolling feel, but it still has a choppy sort of quality as one line gives way to the next.

I’m held together with pale nimble fibers,
plunging in and out and out and right into my skin, sewn
into unintentional life and color and love with someone I never knew...

I especially liked these lines. There's a smooth transition from the relative softness of the previous stanzas into this stream-of-consciousness style. The only thing I don't really like is the ellipsis at the end. Your last line is really strong, but it falls a little flat after the pause that the reader takes. It really depends on the impact you want it to have; the way it is, the voice reverts into its previous, withdrawn sort of mood. This is fitting, but I think that a hyphen might work better. With that, it would make the finale read as more of an interjection into the above three lines, which are rapid-fire and frantic feeling. As I said, though, it all depends on how you want it to sound.

Aside from that little punctuation question, I really have nothing else to criticize. Overall, it's a well-written and thoughtful piece. Great job!

Hey Seph! So as a painter myself I was really drawn to reading this, and there were somethings I liked, and some things I really didn't. Let's get started with the review shaaaall we?

Now you give a pretty clear picture of what he's painting, for me it really brings to mind an old style kind of painting of a woman longing for love. I really really love the idea of telling a story (poem) from the perspective of someone in a painting, I thought that was just brilliant.

we’re sprawled out on the dirty canvases,
disasterpieces found in messy tubes
of red and yellow and blue and white

Like like like.

he swirled blue into yellow into red into white and filled
our skin with pores that breathed liquid and filled our lungs with sluggish memories
and unheard whispers, that would be trapped under a cloth to keep out dust.

Mkay here is where I had my first issue. I think you should take out the names of the colors, seeing as how you already mentioned them before and it seems repetitive. Second I didn't really like the sluggish memories part, because their painted people right? They wouldn't really have memories.

we could only sing to another one through our never-moving eyes, mine
adoring and yours turned down in condescension. I hated these poses,

I kind of love this and don't at the same time, it's odd I can't really explain it. But maybe try describing their eyes differently? I don't know there's just something a little off here and I can't put my finger on it.

but, I’m stuck here, painted arms and painted legs
and painted eyes just as they were pressed in.

When I think of painting I think of gliding, dabbing, dotting, flicks of the brush. Not pressing, so try using a different word to describe it.

I’m held together with pale nimble fibers,
plunging in and out and out and right into my skin, sewn
into unintentional life and color and love with someone I never knew...
it hurts. it all hurts.

Kaaay here's my final nitpick! When you have canvas it's a pretty tightly woven fabric, and you're usually just applying paint over top of it it doesn't really sink into it. Especially if you're using oils (sorry I'm an art geek. xD) So yeah the sewing bit of the end here kind of bugged me.

BUT YES. I thought this was pretty good, like I said I LOVE the idea and think you did a pretty great job with this.

Hope (yeah lol I can make that pun too) this helped!

~Hope

Heya Coral.

I think I'll try and take this in pieces, as each line is pretty much filled to the brim with detail.

Persephoneia wrote:we’re sprawled out on the dirty canvases,
disasterpieces found in messy tubes
of red and yellow and blue and white.

Great opening line. It gives a mental image of dark colors mixed and swirled carelessly across the page. My only question is about the part concerning the tubes. The poem itself gave me the idea that once you were painted out, the pictures became disasterpieces (suggesting it wasn't your fault/was out of your control). But when you say in the beginning "found in messy tubes," it gives me the impression that you were just a disaster waiting to happen. The lines sounded awesome, don't get me wrong. m'just a tad confused, is all.

Persephoneia wrote:we were mingling colors, mumbling curiosities from one another
even before he came along and birthed us onto white cotton,
slapping our smiles on with his artistic scowl.

The sudden change from present to past tense threw me off a bit, but it becomes a little more clear later on. "from one another" would probably sound better as "to one another," though if you meant for it to be a certain way that's fine. "Slapping our smiles on with his artistic scowl" is such a great line, I love it

Persephoneia wrote:he swirled blue into yellow into red into white and filled
our skin with pores that breathed liquid and filled our lungs with sluggish memories
and unheard whispers, that would be trapped under a cloth to keep out dust.

1) having "blue into yellow into red into white" and the first time you mentioned the colors in such close proximity is a little much. If you were to bring the string of colors back in the end, that'd be different - the colors would have already left the reader's thoughts. But with the first stanza still fresh in our minds, the first line of this stanza comes off as repetitive. 2) "breathed liquid" doesn't really sound right. I love the idea, just not the word choice. 3) take out the comma after "whispers." Also, keeping out dust sounds a little irrelevant to everything else. But that's just my opinion.

Persephoneia wrote:we could only sing to another one through our never-moving eyes, mine
adoring and yours turned down in condescension. I hated these poses,
the way I always found myself just barely leaning into you,

I think "another one" would sound better switched around to "one another." Other than that, I absolutely love these lines. "Mine adoring and yours turned down in condescension." Gold. "I always found myself just barely leaning into you." Jealousy. Pure, shining jealousy. You are incredible.

Persephoneia wrote:hoping to catch every glance and every misshapen word that might
spill from your lips,
while you smirk and smile and turn your nose up.

This makes me think of when a person is trying to say something, mouth wide open, but they never make a sound. You're just standing there in anticipation, waiting for the words to come out. But yeah. I love these lines as well.

Persephoneia wrote:but, I’m stuck here, painted arms and painted legs
and painted eyes just as they were pressed in.
I’m held together with pale nimble fibers,

I'd add a comma between the two adjectives "pale" and "nimble." Also, it's hard to decide whether the repetition of "painted" is too much or genius. I like it, and then again it sounds a bit strange. Your choice what to do with it.

Persephoneia wrote:plunging in and out and out and right into my skin, sewn
into unintentional life and color and love with someone I never knew...
it hurts. it all hurts.

You say "and" quite a bit throughout this poem. It flows like paint, yeah, but it's a little much at times, especially in the first two of these three lines. Also, that second "out" isn't really needed and doesn't add anything to the piece. Same with the ellipsis. That been said, though, I love the last two lines. "unintentional...love with someone I never knew," and then finally, a short and quick "it hurts. it all hurts." BAM. Bullet to the chest. Great work.

Overall, I thought this was absolutely amazing. What the heck, you never cease to amaze. I'll end up telling you things you already know, eventually. Great work, Coral.

So, I said I would review a piece of yours. So here I am. Bear with me though, it's been a while.

I'm not a big fan of this either. Reason number one I think you don't like it would be, the over processed feel this gives off.
I don't know how many times you rewrote this, edited it, whatever. That contributes to it, but also it seems you tried way to hard to squeeze x many lines out of an idea that just doesn't have that capacity.

So the overly forced sounding tone it has makes it mildly unpleasant to read.

The one thing that bothered me through this, is the fact that despite this being all pretty and 'deep' the words lacked any meaning, and power behind them. This poem seems terribly flat to me.

we’re sprawled out on the dirty canvases,
disasterpieces found in messy tubes
of red and yellow and blue and white.
we were mingling colors, mumbling curiosities from one another
even before he came along and birthed us onto white cotton,
slapping our smiles on with his artistic scowl.

he swirled blue into yellow into red into white and filled

For example, this is not only repetitive, but really, what emotion can you find behind blue, yellow and red and white.
It's all superficial, colours, actions, facial expressions.

You can smile but still feel sad inside. You can do things but want to be doing something else. It's about investing feelings into your words.

This is really short but I gotta go. I may come back later. But all in all. Your poetry is words on paper, there isn't anything for me to plunge my hands into feel, roll between my fingertips, and wipe on my sides. It looks good on paper, but that's all it is and does.

Kamas

As usual, I love this and am once again insanely jealous of your ridiculous talent. I loved loved loved the imagery in this poem, and I also paint, so I could appreciate it just as an artist too.

but, I’m stuck here, painted arms and painted legs
and painted eyes just as they were pressed in.

Technically yes, paint is brushed or stroked or dotted onto a canvas, but I like "pressed" the way you use it in this stanza - it gives more of a feeling of entrapment to the subject of the painting.

And, I don't know why everyone has a problem with this:

he swirled blue into yellow into red into white and filled

I read this poem aloud to myself (which is how all my professors keep telling me poetry is supposed to be read, so I've been mumbling to the computer a lot lately in order to not annoy my family members), and this didn't sound repetitive to me at all - I think it is in fact far enough away from the first mention of color, but maybe I'm just weird.

I really have no nitpicks at all, though I agree that maybe the ellipsis at the end should be changed. I tried it with a period and with a hyphen and with the last line just separated (no punctuation at the end of the penultimate line), and I personally liked it best with a period, but of course that's your decision.

Great job once again and as usual!

~Blue

I gotta say, this is really impressive! I love how you took something so common, something so often taken for granted or ignored, and you gave it relatable life. I don't think I've ever wondered to myself how a personage in a painting feels, or if it even feels at all. The type of poetry that tends to stand out to me is poetry that forces me to see something ordinary in a brand new and extraordinary light. I love poetry that gives me new ideas and makes me think outside the box. Thus far, what I've seen of your works does just that. And trust me, that's a talent that very few adequately possess. My favorite line, I think, was "... and filled our skin with pores that breathed liquid and filled our lungs with sluggish memories and unheard whispers..." I love how this line shows the way you gave these painted figures life, just like any other living, breathing human being. And on top of all this, just the way you pieced together each word... it's beautiful. I'm truly very impressed. Keep up the good work!!
~Molly