Potpourri for the Heart

Note to reader: This is simply a blend of poems I've yet to post but have been collecting cobwebs in my poor iPod as notes. They're more or less love poems, hence the title I've given this. I don't expect my poetry to be perfect. Feel free to critique anything that catches your eye. Or all of them if you're feeling generous.

-Smylin'



"Confliction"

Spoiler

A poem I had written a long time ago that was meant to belong inside one of my novels. It's written from the main character's prospective, who is a boy.

She's a diamond
hitting light.
The beautiful moon
touching midnight.
A gentle tree,
hitting the cool
summer breeze.
This magnificent representation
always, she leaves.

A staggering loveliness,
I plead to dote.
But my body -my mind,
far too remote.
Should I try and please
a girl so perfect?
Or would the pain
and hurt I'd cause be worth it?

"Adolescent"

Spoiler

This isn't one of my more serious poems, so I expect it to get picked apart undoubtedly. But I thought it was cute and fun anyway. Enjoy.

I knew a boy, and he was mine.
One like no other; each feature so fine.
He did not deceive, did not speak in distress.
If I made him mad, he wouldn't confess.

This boy was special;
certainly like no other.
One dressed to the tee,
he was my sweet lover.

I could not be ripped
from his warm embrace.
He'd sing me to sleep,
brush the tears from my face.

He hardly spoke,
but when he did,
he'd make me forget
why I was a kid.

He'd touch me so sweetly,
kindness in each stroke.
Seventeen were we?
I thought we'd elope.

So where is this boy,
this boy that I know?
Is he off with another?
I girl I perhaps loath?

'Maybe he left her,
to say for his sake;
she wasn't quite worthy,
this girl, a mistake.'

I tell these cold doubters
they know nothing of this.
To say that for the record
he gave me my kiss.

We were meant to be,
it wasn't teen love.
This boy who's my lover
is now up above.

God took him from me,
to make a point to this world.
All lovers are children,
Let children be heard.

"Overcome"

Spoiler

And yet another face of love.

Higher power abuse,
pulling me down.
The fight, a lose lose;
a battle and no winner.

Petite flowers
in the line of fire.
Blankets of snow
muting my desires.

Shake the pain away,
because no one feels sorry.
But sweet lovely,
it compels me with awry.

Take, give,
take away again.
Rest may I? No.
Just fight, fight,
fight through the blame.

Grind my compassion
into a lost relic.
It serves me not
to be childish -angelic,
with dreams.
The thought to Him becomes obscene.

Until I fade into black.
A shadow, a patch
of clouded memory.
But I'll still try
for love,
and He'll still hate me.

"Untitled"

Spoiler

What I think would be humbling to find in a boy:

He's cutting edge,
that kid with the fire.
He brings out from me
my brooding desires.

He's walking perfection.
Cursed is his exterior.
Inside he is crying.
To this world, he's inferior.

With eyes like ice,
it should seem so clear.
False admirers surround him,
they bring in the fear.

Suffer, my lovely.
Don't fight through the hurt.
Be kind to cold haters,
don't ever be curt.

One day they will see
the troubles you face.
A blinded cruel species,
an unfair human race.

This seems to me like the beginning (slightly middle) of your poetry work. I can already tell you're going to be a great writer. Your poems seem to be missing a little something though, a little "umph", as they would say. Other then that, just keep writing and writing.
P.s. I enjoy reading your writings.

These are pretty. I think you should write more poetry like it, because you seem to be really good at it. The only thing I'd say is work on the second poem a bit (which I saw you talked about in your spoiler!), and then in the third poem, you said "lose lose..." did you mean to say loose? I'm not quite sure what you meant there, but keep writing!

She's a diamond
hitting light.
The beautiful moon
touching midnight.
A gentle tree,
hitting the cool
summer breeze.
This magnificent representation
always, she leaves.

A staggering loveliness,
I plead to dote.
But my body -my mind,
far too remote.
Should I try and please
a girl so perfect?
Or would the pain
and hurt I'd cause be worth it?


Well, here I go. I din't liked that poem that much as I felt it was just- insincere, the whole style of poems who are about praising the one you love never seem real to me, true love poems should be more than what seems to me as a pile of cliches, supported here and there by a self observation of the narrator- who finds himself lowly and unworthy. I just don't believe those, they don't show emotion- but of course- that's just me, on the technical details I have no complaints, there weren't any actual mistakes.



I knew a boy, and he was mine.
One like no other; each feature so fine.
He did not deceive, did not speak in distress.
If I made him mad, he wouldn't confess.

This boy was special;
certainly like no other.
One dressed to the tee,
he was my sweet lover.

I could not be ripped
from his warm embrace.
He'd sing me to sleep,
brush the tears from my face.

He hardly spoke,
but when he did,
he'd make me forget
why I was a kid.

He'd touch me so sweetly,
kindness in each stroke.
Seventeen were we?
I thought we'd elope.

So where is this boy,
this boy that I know?
Is he off with another?
I girl I perhaps loath?

'Maybe he left her,
to say for his sake;
she wasn't quite worthy,
this girl, a mistake.'

I tell these cold doubters
they know nothing of this.
To say that for the record
he gave me my kiss.

We were meant to be,
it wasn't teen love.
This boy who's my lover
is now up above.

God took him from me,
to make a point to this world.
All lovers are children,
Let children be heard.


So, basically- if I understand correctly- he was a perfect guy, then he went stiff?
Anyway- I like that one a lot more, it might also be filled with: 'He's perfect, he's perfect.' but there was also a real substance, real pain, real emotion- real poem, this poem was a product of some genuine feeling, and I can see it.




Higher power abuse,
pulling me down.
The fight, a lose lose;
a battle and no winner.

Petite flowers
in the line of fire.
Blankets of snow
muting my desires.

Shake the pain away,
because no one feels sorry.
But sweet lovely,
it compels me with awry.

Take, give,
take away again.
Rest may I? No.
Just fight, fight,
fight through the blame.

Grind my compassion
into a lost relic.
It serves me not
to be childish -angelic,
with dreams.
The thought to Him becomes obscene.

Until I fade into black.
A shadow, a patch
of clouded memory.
But I'll still try
for love,
and He'll still hate me.


Okay- I've actually been in this sort f story before- all though opposite side, the one that is loved and doesn't love- so I can easily agree with the fact that those kinds of stories are complicated, painful- and nobody goes out happy- I think this particular poem displayed that perfectly, I loved the metaphors you made throughout the poem, and the angle at which you see the narrator- her(I guess) pains, doubts and sorrow. My only complaint is that now I feel kinda guilty.



He's cutting edge,
that kid with the fire.
He brings out from me
my brooding desires.

He's walking perfection.
Cursed is his exterior.
Inside he is crying.
To this world, he's inferior.

With eyes like ice,
it should seem so clear.
False admirers surround him,
they bring in the fear.

Suffer, my lovely.
Don't fight through the hurt.
Be kind to cold haters,
don't ever be curt.

One day they will see
the troubles you face.
A blinded cruel species,
an unfair human race.

This one- in my opinion- was again emotionally dead. Now, I'm not saying every poem should reveal the poets blood dripping heart, I think sometimes the dry-rational ones are the best, but if you're dry and rational- it's not really love, is it? thus, not really a love poem. I just didn't feel it- are you relating to the narrator, or the subject? because I understood neither one.



I loved your poems, my opinions on each one separately are above- here's my opinion of the whole of them as a group.
I think your poems all together made quite the packet, and quite covered the subject- they were deep, thoughtful, and lovely.
You're a talented writer- and I expect to see more of your works soon,
SubjectBlue.

Hi there SmylinG!

First off, let me say that I love the title of this "collection". I picked this one to read mostly because it had fewer comments than many other poems on the forum, but the title alone would've probably drawn me in.

I read almost all the poems, and you seem to like rhyming, don't you? That is all very well, and you seem to be quite good at it, too. Some of the lines felt a little disrupted, because some lines were shorter, some longer than the others. I won't point out any particular ones here, because you'll know what I mean when you read these poems out loud. Overall, though, I think you did a pretty good job in the rhyming and rhythm. I also liked the fact that you didn't use the most common and predictable rhymes.

As you seem to handle this kind of poetry already, you could consider taking your writing to the next level. Experiment a little -- have you tried writing free verse? What I often do when writing poetry is I close my eyes and try to focus on nothing but getting the poem out, and then the lines just come to me. It's like magic! I haven't really written rhyming poetry, so I may be biased, but I feel that when you have to make things rhyme, you might not capture the exact impression you want to convey. Without rhymes, you can make things stand on their own in the way you see them yourself, without having to alter them much. But I must say, I quite admire anyone who can writing rhyming poetry and make it a poem, not just a bunch of lines and rhymes at the end.

Another thing to think about is the subject of your poems. These are mainly about love and affection -- but the truth is, there's poetry everywhere! I remember Hannah once wrote a poem about an ant crossing the road or something like that. It can be interesting to take whatever and make it into a poem.

Good luck and keep writing!


Demeter
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