I Will Chase the Wind.

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Leaning back against my pillow, I sigh.
A tear plummets to the open book in my hands.
The book closes, and I close my eyes.
It's been a hard day.

I discover no rest in my bedroom, so,
careful not to disturb those who already slumber,
I find my way outdoors
and collapse beneath the night sky.

On this late summer night,
an autumn wind is blowing.
Chilling, the breeze caresses my face
and moves on, leaving me behind.

My heart aches within my chest, because,
just like what I love most,
the breeze has moved on.
And now I'm alone, immobile, stranded.

Someday, I will pursue the wind.
I will follow it to the horizon.
I will be its shadow, its haunting sprite
A ghost that it cannot abandon.

A final tear traces its path on my face.
With weary eyes, I smile ruefully, because,
no matter how wrong today has been,
tomorrow I will set it right.

Tomorrow, I will chase the wind.
“...it's better to feel the ache inside me like demons scratching at my heart than it is to feel numb the way a dead body feels when you touch it."

-Brian James




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This is probably my favorite poem on YWS. I can relate to it so much. I usually dislike the nature motif, but I know personally I can never sleep at night, I go to my balcony and just think and have a new resolve. The stanzas are laden with emotion (I particularly adore the fourth stanza). I think it has a great flow, and you use powerful verbs to describe how you're feeling. Keep up the amazing writing, I look forward to future pieces! :D




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This is a beautifully written poem, honest, exposed, without a lot of the wordy tangle that can so easily overtake a work that is--as I'm thinking this is--a self-confession. In my own writing, the more "me" a written expression is, the more difficult to follow it can be, as I employ a lot of images that make sense only in the flip-book of my own mind. But this poem employs the material environment--nature, a book--to speak for the private feelings of the narrator. By doing this, I feel that the poem's speaker effectively turns themself inside out, telling the world how they feel without censor, without embellishment, letting human feeling speak for itself. While very clear and direct, this piece is not without it's personal style...

"I will be its shadow, its haunting sprite/
A ghost that it cannot abandon..."

I found this piece to be the crown jewel of the poem, a flourish of personal style and unique writing voice that sets it apart from your usual emotional, confessional poem. We've all been here, but only this writer could put chasing the wind, chasing life and dreams, in so individual a illustration. Well done!
"A being darkly wise and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the skeptic side,
With too much weakness for the stoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act or rest;
In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast...."
---Alexander Pope, "An Essay on Man," Epistle II




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I thought it was about time that I returned the favor for those lovely reviews you gave up today! So here we go, then.

Now first off, I wanted to note that this poem is telling a story. Its not simply about emotion. In fact, we almost get a solid character, which is generally what would suit prose well, but in this case I won't be too overly picky. Instead, I'm going to recommend that this would suit better in narrative. Its got a voice and one of which narrates.

Now, onto the critique.

There are certain things I look for in poetry that really make it worth a good inkling of thought towards. In that sense, these sub-sections aren't too exponentially important on their own but together could really help a piece be taken a little more seriously. As it goes, these would be them;

~ Metaphor
~ Rhythm
~ Structure
~ Theme

Now, without these four aspects, a piece of poetry shouldn't really even be seen as such. So lets break this down into those said categories.

Metaphor:

As a piece of poetry, I found that this lacked metaphor. You were very blunt with what you wanted to get across and in telling a story, you forgot to give this piece the breath of life, so I like to call it. The reason for us to consider it as poetry. Poetry should not be like prose in the sense that yes, it can be upfront, but it should not be simple diction and simply stating. It should be poetic and distinctly you. By creating images and metaphors to go with certain subjects, you make connections that are very important and meaningful. Without those connections, you have nothing.

So, what I'm going to say is that this area is definitely your weakest. You were very straight forward with your thinking and in the end, it left an interest taste in my mouth but not the kind of which I would wish to keep.

Rhythm:

Again, I fear you lacked in this section as well. Let me draw an example;

Leaning back against my pillow, I sigh.
A tear plummets to the open book in my hands.
The book closes, and I close my eyes.
It's been a hard day.


This is blunt but its also not well proportioned. Think of hard syllables and soft syllables. The way each word runs off the tongue. Do these sentences flow effortlessly? Do they flow together? And if they don't, is there a way of wording them that would make them flow? There always is. It just takes a bit of time to figure it out.

What I found is that the bluntness of this also kills the rhythm a little bit. You take away from the overall beauty of a poem by simply trying to get a point across. Poetry is not just about points being made. If you want to make a point without being delicate or unique, prose might also be your alley.

Structure:

Why don't we lighten up the mood!

I like your structure. I like that its free-versed for one, and that it has four-lined stanza's that build up the theme all the way till that final one-liner. This is well planned and executed in a way that I admire greatly. Pat on the back for interesting structure!

Theme:

You need to watch out for the melodramatic.

Other than that, you have an interesting piece here.

Overall:

You've got a bit of work to do, but with the right polishing, you may have a stellar piece on your hands!

~Walker
Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologuing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. - R.S



Thomas Edison's last words were "It's very beautiful over there.” I don't know where there is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I hope it's beautiful.
— John Green, Looking for Alaska