Young Writers Society

Ceramic bones puncture plastic skin,
acrylic eyes roll in their sockets.
Denim clings low,
limbs dangle before white screen:
a lady caged in a body.

Two-page ads blare the name—
not hers; her face is her name,
her stare her only words—
languid, liquid, like a morphine addict’s rush.

She stands hunched, tilted,
a chair with mismatched legs.
Eyes eviscerate her, the
empress of fashion, malnutrition:
pain exquisitely wrought.

The awe turns to envy,
the envy to fury.
Clavicles crack,
swanlike neck
is bared to blades.

Resigned,
she drops her gaze
and plays the waif.

(the title is a phrase often used to describe the popular fashion look of the 90s, epitomized by Kate Moss: pale skin, dark circles beneath the eyes, jutting bones, and the vague impression of a drug addict)

Wow, this is a very powerful and emotive poem, some constructive points to improve on though :

blackbird12 wrote:Two-page ads blare the name—
not hers; her face is her name,
her stare and her only words her only words—
languid, liquid, like a morphine addict’s rush.

Like this but I feel something doesn't quite fit here, that is my suggestion on imrpoving the flow of it

blackbird12 wrote:She stands hunched, tilted,
a chair with mismatched legs.
Eyes eviscerate her, the
empress of fashion, malnutrition:
pain exquisitely wrought.

I really do like this stanza, it is really very good

blackbird12 wrote:The awe turns to envy,
and the envy to fury;
Clavicles crack,
a swanlike neck
is bared to blades.

I really like this just a little polishing I reckon on the generally flow and feel of this poem would make it amazing , great work keep it up

Hey there!

This was simply... wow. I did not expect it from the title. But, since the title confused me, I guess I didn't expect anything! What I'm trying to say is that this poem amazed me. Your metaphors were crazy good, and your voice was that of a person that I feel like I can relate to: a person who is disgusted by what beauty means nowadays. On to the review!

Quotes 'N' Comments

Two-page ads blare the name—
not hers; her face is her name,

These were about the only two lines of the poem that I really did not like. For one, I don't like the repetition of the word 'name.' It just doesn't flow like the rest of the poem does. Then, I pretty much don't like how this is worded.I feel like the second part of the second line, 'her face is her name,' is a bit repetitive. I think you can get along fine with just saying something like:

Two-page ads blare the name-
Not hers; just her face.

If you say this, then the reader will realize that her face has now become the face of a company, and in turn her name has become that of the company. This is a way to say it so that your readers will have to figure it out on their own, and it has a bit of symbolism and mystery.

languid, liquid, like a morphine addict’s rush.

This doesn't really fit in with the rest of the poem. In the poem, you are naming all of the bad things about models, how fake they are, how their beauty is fake and how they are losing their names. However, with this statement, you are sort of saying that her face is addicting, like the rush of a drug. Instead of giving me the image that her face is striking and beautiful, I would like you to pick out all of the bad things in it. I would like you to tell me her face is cold, still and lifeless. That her eyes are begging for a way out; something dramatic that shows a bit of a breakthrough? Because you are now at the middle of your poem. I would like to see a bit of change in attitude now.

and plays the waif.

Hmm... confused. She plays a person stealing to stay alive? Stealing lives perhaps? This is random. If you are going to, in the end, talk about how she is affecting the community, you need to mention it elsewhere, because as of state, I have no idea what this means.

Punctuation and Structure

Your punctuation is good. I like the variety; not just commas and periods, but dashes and colons too. And your structure. Though it barely has any structure, it still flows wonderfully. This is something that I have never been able to do, and I envy you for it.

Voice and Tone

Like I said above, you voice is one that I love to read from and one that I can relate to. The only thing about this poem that you really need to work on is your tone. Through almost all of it, I have no idea what side you are on. Actually, I think your speaker is in neutral territory, which is extremely confusing. On one hand, I really want to believe that your speaker is against all of this model stuff, On the other hand, I feel as though they just don't care. They are telling you what's going on, but never give us an opinion about it. That's what you need to add into this poem: your speaker's opinion.

Overall

This was not only descriptive and beautiful, but it was fun and original! I love it. I think I am actually going to like it, and I don't 'like' things very often. What you do really well is your poems have a natural flow which I love. It's like you wrote this in ten seconds and it just worked. It's something I will never be able to do. What I don't like is your lack of opinion, and your speaker's lack of choice. Before you write a poem where you need to be opinionated, like this one, you have to be sure what side you are on. Like I said above, I'm not exactly sure. You have lines that contradict both cases.

I really hope I helped! If you have any questions/comments, PM me!

Classy

Your language use here is excellent.

I do think that your subject is a little cliched, a little bit mainstream--and because you have chosen to produce a poem that is pure physical description, it comes off as being a little staticky.

However. That doesn't make this a bad poem, in my opinion. You have shown a thorough mastery of your concept with your wording choice, and you only need to bring us more completely into your world. What does her appearance mean? What images does it evoke? Why does it matter? Pull the reader into the story, make your sharp and compelling picture into a movie. =)

Great work!

blackbird12 wrote:Ceramic bones puncture plastic skin,
acrylic eyes roll in their sockets.
Denim clings low,
limbs dangle before white screen:
a lady caged in a body.

Two-page ads blare the name—
not hers; her face is her name,
her stare her only words—
languid, liquid, like a morphine addict’s rush.

She stands hunched, tilted,
a chair with mismatched legs.
Eyes eviscerate her, the
empress of fashion, malnutrition:
pain exquisitely wrought.

The awe turns to envy,
the envy to fury.
Clavicles crack,
swanlike neck
is bared to blades.

Resigned,
she drops her gaze
and plays the waif.

Marvelous.