I Forget My Age.

I forget my age, sometimes-
I can feel it drifting from me,
as if my whole life is not crucified on the T of a 1,
and limits not set by the grotesque waistline of 5.

If I were 17 I could, hang myself from its cliffs, also.

I sense the whiskey in my veins whispering,
jump, jump, jump

KatTrain.

This poem is sad. Does the poem imply that when she is seventeen, the narrator will kill herself?

But I liked "grotesque waistline of 5."

Why is there a mention of whiskey in a poem otherwise about numbers? Was this poem written when drunk?

PurifyingFire

KatTrain wrote:I forget my age, sometimes-
I can feel it drifting from me,
as if my whole life is not crucified on the T of a one, What is the T of a one?
and limits not set by the grotesque waistline of 5. The phrasing is a bit weird here. Maybe say 'and not limited by'

If I were 17 I could, hang myself from its cliffs, also.

I sense the whiskey in my veins whispering, The whisky part is not particularly well-connected and frankly not believable.
jump, jump, jump

Also, in the last stanza you mention hanging yourself, then repeat "jump." I think it would be more effective if you mention jumping then repeat jump. These are minor complaints though. This poem is creative, interesting, and cool.

Quite honestly, I don't know what to make of this, and not in the good way.

What were you trying to say with this? Your message is completely scattered into incoherence by the lack of consistency and coherency in your imagery and syntax. Tell me, how exactly does "as if my whole life is not crucified on the T of a one, and limits not set by the grotesque waistline of 5" work as a sentence? Breaking it down, you've got "as if my whole life is not crucified on the T of a one" and "as if my whole life is not limits not set by the grotesque waistline of a 5". And why is "one" written out but not "5"?

What you have here, as far as I can see, is structure without substance, without understanding. You tried to use techniques without fully understanding the circumstances needed to employ them effectively, and by doing so, you wound up with a pile of sticks shakily stacked together instead of a solid house.

Decide what you want to say with your poem and then build up the images and structure around it. Right now, there is nothing uniting this poem, nothing making it feel like one completed piece. In fact, it feels quite the opposite with how mismatched all the pieces are.

This piece is very interesting, a step or two away from being thuroughly enjoyable. The language is almost cryptic but sensible, and the meaning is deep and appliable. But I feel as though, and as some other comments I browsed over mentioned, that there is not enough consistency. While lack of consistency can be used as a motif in the more abstract settings, this seemed as though it was meant to be consistent, but got distracted at points. Most of this digression is in small word choice, but some of it does stem from the idea being lost or unfounded. If there was a little bit more of a "foreshadowing" (for lack of a better word) of the ending in some way, or a bit of development that helps the reader understand what the narrator's true mindset is, in regards to the ending, then I think this piece would be absolutely fabulous, as opposed to readable. I apologize if anything I just wrote doesn't make any sense at all, it is 3 a.m. here and I'm running on red bull alone to write this review
talk about digression, there I go. Anyway, this was good and it shows a very interesting voice I would like to see more from.

Hi! So I'm not quite sure what to make of this but since you've requested the review, I'll try my best to understand it. Here's some specific comments first:

I forget my age, sometimes-
I can feel it drifting from me, [I'd like to see a more concrete image here. IWhat is it that's drifting away? The number or the age itself or life? It's a very vague line and would work better if paired by a visual image.]
as if my whole life is not crucified on the T of a one, [What does this mean? I honestly don't understand. I get that the T is the shape of the cross but I don't know what the one refers to so you need to be clearer.]
and limits not set by the grotesque waistline of 5. [5 should be five, just as 17 should be seventeen. Again, what's the significance of five? I like the introduction of the waistline as I get the slightly comical (and probably incorrect) image of someone not being able to hang themselves simply because they're too fat to reach up and put the rope around their neck. I don't know what five is though. A reference to the sizes used in your country?]

If I were 17 I could, hang myself from its cliffs, also. [I think there's an interesting idea behind this, perhaps that hanging is easier for those who are young and emotional? I'd like to see that expanded on.]

I sense the whiskey in my veins whispering,
jump, jump, jump

Alright so the ending doesn't tell us much and I think this defineately needs a re-write but maybe you could salvage a few of those ideas because there is some interest here. Just not enough to make it a good poem. I hope this helps you a little,

Heather xxx

I think the reason for this poem being... rough can be found in the poem, unfortunately.
I will definitely re-write it eventually.
Kyllorac, Kitty15 I don't think either of you really understood what I was trying to say (which is my fault for not explaining it well enough).

Back to the workshop!

Ooers! I want to see if I can get this. Well... okay, it's kind of confusing, but I at least want to try!

It seems like you're talking about growing up and such, and it seems like your age is making you age more than you want -- that's why it seems to drift away from you. Also, because it drifts, you have no control of it and it seems to be spiraling out of control. And then, of course, there's the fact that you can "forget" your age, which seems to point to a senility that only old folks have, so all at once everything is strange and distorted.

You point to several things... by saying crucified, I image that your faith has been shattered by something (though I am not quite sure of the phrase "T of a one"). By referring to the grotesque waistline of five, you seem to be referring to eat disorders. So, by aging, suddenly it become important to look good and yet there seems to be no rhyme and reason why, so everything is spiraling out of control. Yet, at the same time, you realize that the limits AREN'T set by this waistline... so it seems like there's an awareness of something more, and it seems like you're not quite sure what it is and that seems to lend itself to a sense of despair... with the mind gone, the faith shattered, the looks (which are ultimately fleeting anyway) disappeared, there is no real sense of limit except for the ultimate limit of death, which is symbolized in the cliff. And so, this seems to me to be a testing of limits.

Er, yeah. ^_^

This is sad, but I guess it's supposed to be haha. It's really creative, and it caught my attention. It's short, but it gives everything you need to know. This is very well written, but go back and adeit a litte emore, to make it pop. Keep writing!

I didn't get it... Well, the first stanza was good. Then... well, it kind of.... fell off of a cliff. Like the entire thing disintegrated. Maybe just keep the first few lines and re-write the rest. Your choice. Keep Writing!