Friendship

Those wounds were made
in ages past.
But the sting is sharp—
A knife wound still fresh.

You wouldn’t think
that would so shallow
would ever hurt
so badly again.

But those wounds are deeper
then they could ever appear.
Wounds of the soul
are always that way.

Those wounds were made
with a few choice words—
Some were by accident
some by malice

A twisted smile was all it took
to lure me into a hangman’s noose.
The scar around my neck is still there,
red as a venomous snake.

I hid it with masks—
Necklaces and charms.
But the wound is still there
throbbing with rage.

To you I may seem skittish—
Every time you reach for me
I run away and hide.
I’m afraid of what you might say.

For I did not just hang
in that noose one once used.
At first it was a leash,
dragging me through shame.

One made me dependent—
That’s all it took.
I thought I could trust them.
Never again will I make that mistake.

We were tied at the hip,
inseparable for friendship
I still have the scars
from where that rope burned

But some rope did not leave.
It turns out there were two
and the second one,
made the wounds you now see.

The second one was malice
woven with green eyes and teeth.
Thorns instead of roses,
claws instead of hands.

But I was too naive,
too young and too kind.
I though that that rope
was the same as before.

Why I did not see is forgotten,
a small blessing in my tortured mind.
Most of my memories of them are erased,
if only the scars were so easy to forget.

The more you talk to me
the more I remember:
Thorny vines and false peace—
A dove that was dipped in oil.

The slick grease still coats me
but you’ll never find it.
I promised myself
I would never be hurt again.

If I never let anyone see
the wounds I have received—
The bruises on my body,
the insanity in my mind.

If I stay aloof
they will not haunt me.
I can forget about bruises—
An ignorable annoyance.

But if you touch me,
I remember:
The hellfire licking my feet,
the ice making me numb to it all.

Don’t touch me, please!
My screams are relentless.
I beg you to stop—
Purgatory is better then hell.

But you won’t listen.
Through the fire, the ice
you reach for me.
Remind me.

You remind me of what friendship is,
how I felt before these scars.
How soft the wind was on my skin,
how warm the sun felt on my face.

I still shy away,
the wind turning bitter—
Teeth and claws attacking my words
the tar of doubt sapping my strength.

I know it was me
I was the one
that pushed them away!
But you won’t listen.

No matter how much
I try to avoid you—
Hiding in the forest
you always find me.

The darkness around me
my cave of insanity
still isn’t enough to hide.
You brave it all, and take my hand.

The very thing that had once burned
that had almost taken my life
that had caused me to don these masks
is now filled with warmth, coming from you.

I try to pull away,
but instead you bring me closer.
Whispering words I never though
I would hear again.

I never though I would hear
somebody complimenting my spirit—
Or what little hints of it
you could see through my masks.

Slowly you pull me
out into the open.
The trek is long
but you stay with me.

No matter how much I try
to keep myself hidden,
with each step I take,
a mask falls away.

I try to stop in the mud
try to free the self I know so well,
but you stop me every time.
Reminding me of who I am.

Outside rain is falling,
spring is coming
on the winder of my soul—
The oil on me begins to run.

I thought I would be weak
standing outside without my charms.
But even as the rain falls harder
I stand straight. I stand tall.

Thunder breaks, winds howl,
splinters of memories pierce me.
I stumble, unable to hold strong,
but you catch me.

I stop, not knowing what to do.
I had never been caught before—
Not when I had stumbled
not when I had been about to break.

You pull me back up
into the safely of your arms,
thorns streak from my eyes,
but they don’t hurt you.

Fog rolls in, muffling every sound,
but still my sobs are heard.
I’d never let anyone see me so open,
but you don’t care. You still stay.

I can’t see you through darkness,
or the smoke of confusion,
or the storm of doubt,
but I can feel you.

Your touch heals the scars
on my neck, back and face.
Your words heal the insanity
that’s still harboured in my mind.

Dawn begins to break—
My nightmare is finally ending.
I look up to see you still there,
still sheltering me from my past.

You smile and let me go
still holding my hand,
still there in case I need you.
I let you stay with me.

I know that you’ll be there,
I know your motive is true—
And that’s all I need to know
to keep my hand in yours.

Who are you?
You’re my friend.

~~

Dedicated to YWSers; thank you so much for pulling me out of my shell. (I just can't tell you how much you mean to me, not after my past. I hope these words are enough.)

Oh, and I know this is rough. If you want to tear it up, I'm looking for ways to improve it.

~Rosey

It's been a while since I've seen a poet open up, especially like this. You have some spelling mistakes but you will find them and fix them, I know this :)

To be totally honest this inspired me, maybe not in the way you might be thinking, but inspiration all the same. Just when I was losing hope with the talent around here ><

Also, it could be shorter. Only a couple stanzas (or lines here and there) should be taken out. It doesn't even really need that.

~Reyu

Well, dear, as I told you last night, I read this and thought I should give you a critique on it, since it made the world warm and fuzzy and I began to shiver (also partly due to the fact my thermostat was set to fourteen degrees...) So here we go- keeping in mind I know little of poetry...

A knife wound still fresh.

Both times I read it, this line threw me off... it just doesn't go with the rest of the sstanza... I had to have several re-readings of it..

to lour me

to lure me

Necklaces and charm.

Charms, perhaps?

To you I may seem skittish—

Skittish is a lovely word, I'm just not sure if it fits here or not...

and the second once,
made the wounds you now see.

You've left quite a few commas out, leave this once too. It makes the flow all weird.

A dove that was dipped in oil.

A... dove? Whatever floats your boat, I guess...

You remind me of what friendship is,
how I felt before these scars.
How soft the wind was on my skin,
how warm the sun felt on my face.

Loved this stanza...

You brave it all, and take my hand.

And this line.

I try to stop in the mud
try to free the self I know so well,
but you stop me every time.
Reminding me of who I am.

This is full of contradictions.

on the winder of my soul—

Winter?

The oil on me begins to run.

I stand strait. I stand tall.

straight.

thorns streak from my eyes,

It's Rapunzel in reverse! Sorry... but that's what me and my fairytale obsession first thought...

And I love your ending.

It's almost too nice to say anything bad about, but... it is a bit long, and repetitive in places. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I think your four-line verse pattern might have been holding you back, because you're sort of trying to finish each stanza before you go onto the next one, and with not enough words, you just repeat... maybe you don't need to hold onto your pattern so much, although I do understand structure is important. It just makes for a long poem. Read through it, hard, and see what lines and verses you don't need. You'll find them, and don't hesitate to get rid of them. I also thought your screaming rage in the middle with the "Don't touch me!" thing was a bit, uh... out of place... perhaps tone it down a little?

But I did really love it, and not just because it's about YWS, but because the theme in general is lovely...

Hope I helped, drop me a line if you need anything!

-Stella x

This was excellent. It showed real emotion and depth. It was heart wrenching in a beautiful way. You really opened up. I did not find many mistakes so, good job there. The imagery of said piece great. Keep it up. I can't wait to read more from you. *Gold Star*

Thank you all for taking the time to critique this!

I have edited out the spelling mistakes. Things by hand+ my dysgraphia (inability to spell a lot of words and to notice those mistakes) means I make a few more then are probably prudent. Thanks for pointing those out!

Hmm, perhaps the four-line thing isn't for this piece. I shall have to let it sit for a month or so, just to detach myself from this. Edits might be slow, but I am thinking about it.

If anybody has any more comments, feel free to post them!

~Rosey

Hi Rosey! June here!

Warning: I am going to be extremely structure-minded and extremely nitpicky and extremely harsh in this review


Or... sort of.


Anyway! Let's get working.

First! Wonderful poem, dear. I love how you were able to take a hurt/pain/sorrow, write about it, and share it with us all. Makes us feel special. (Or at least it does me. )

Let's go stanza-by-stanza.

Those wounds were made

in ages past.

But the sting is sharp—

A knife wound still fresh.

• Let me ask you, do these wounds still exist, dear? Are they healed up and gone?

See, I think that you should change "those" to "these" so that you can have an audience that can better relate, understand?

Because, a wound is a wound, dear. Even if it heals-- no matter what type of wound it is, there will always, always be the scar. So. In my understanding, and intrepretations, wounds scarcely ever go away.


• As for the last line here, I think that you should take out the word "knife". I can tell that you are using it figuratively, and not literally, dear, but some people may not understand.

Also! You're using "a". That's sounding quite indirect for my tastes, dear, coming from your other lines. I would suggest changing it to "the" instead of "a", because it gives quite a nicer flow.

You wouldn’t think

that would so shallow

would ever hurt

so badly again.

• Rosey, read this aloud! I'm having a bit of difficulty understanding this point? Do you mean, "You wouldn't think/something so shallow/would ever hurt/so badly again?"

Clarify, dearie.

But those wounds are deeper

then they could ever appear.

Wounds of the soul

are always that way.

• Perfect, Rosey! This is what I was trying to explain, dear!

I think you should use "these" and not "those". Wounds of the soul never go away; and I refuse to be contradicted. (*is slightly opinionated sometimes*)

Those wounds were made

with a few choice words—

Some were by accident

some by malice

These? Those?

• Choice should be changed to chosen, dearie.

• I'm not so comfortable with the repetition here, Mademoiselle. I would suggest changing this to something like, "Some by accident/Others by malice."

It's something in varying your words and keeping your ideas that makes poetry super enjoyable for your audience.

A twisted smile was all it took

to lure me into a hangman’s noose.

The scar around my neck [s]is still there,[/s]

red as a venomous snake.

• Because you are saying that you have been in a noose before, Rosey, I think you should use "the" instead of "a". Because, if the noose was blue and yellow, and all the other nooses were green and black, you would be able to identify the noose and say "that noose".

See, it's the same thing here. You were lured into a deceptional noose, and you can identify that noose, ja? So! Be specific. A and The are two very different terms.

• Using "is still there" is dragging, dear. I think that you should use a word instead of using three vague ones. Preferably "remains"?

I hid it with masks—

Necklaces and charms.

But the wound is still there

throbbing with rage.

Kay. So.

In the previous stanza, you use "the wound is still there", or something of the sort.

Vary your wordings, Rosey! Decorate this, make it fancy and shiny and attractive!

To you I may seem skittish—

Every time you reach for me

I run away and hide.

I’m afraid of what you might say.

So! I've seen a lot of dashes throughout this piece. That's okay, but try to use them sparingly, dear.

For I did not just hang

in that noose one once used.

At first it was a leash,

dragging me through shame.

I'm picky. In English, I don't commonly like the usage of "For" beginning a sentence when the language is modern-day. I don't know why; it's probably because I'm just not used to that concept, but, hehe. Anyway you could ditch it?

One made me dependent—

That’s all it took.

I thought I could trust them.

Never again will I make that mistake.

I'm quite confused with what you mean by dependent?

We were tied at the hip,

inseparable for friendship

I still have the scars

from where that rope burned



But some rope did not leave.

It turns out there were two

and the second one,

made the wounds you now see.

Repetition of rope is iffy, dear.

The second one was malice

woven with green eyes and teeth.

Thorns instead of roses,

claws instead of hands.

Dearie, this is my favoritest stanza. I absolutely love this. I want to frame it and hang it up.

But I was too naive,

too young and too kind.

I though that that rope

was the same as before.

So! This really needs to be reworded, dear. The double that is not working.


- *-

Rosey. Long poem. Long, long, long poem.

In fact, so long poem, I'm too lazy to finish. But, I will be back. Soon.


So! For starting.

Positives:

~ I think that it is wonderful that you were able to take something that has ultimately weighed you down for ages and get it off of you in such an effective way.

~ The play on words was wonderful. I love the part about nooses and all of that deception-- it's really giving an artsy air to this, in a subtle, but effective way.


Negatives:

~ It was too much like a story, when I feel it could be dramatized. The repetition in some places wasn't agreeable; for instance, if it was a story, the repetition would be a-okay, but here, it was slightly scratchy. I think that with a bit more flowing words and slight imagery, you'll be wonderful.


Overall, I enjoyed the poem, dear. Really, truly, I did. (But I'm so hungry, I must go for dinner!)

<3

Juniper

You wouldn’t think
that would so shallow
would ever hurt
so badly again.

Um... do you mean, "...that wound so shallow"? Also, I think it would be better with:



"You wouldn't think that
Such a shallow wound
Would ever hurt
So badly again."



I also suggest that you exchange the word 'badly' with something more descriptive of the pain the speaker felt. Isn't that far better than being too simple?

But those wounds are deeper
then they could ever appear.
Wounds of the soul
are always that way.

Hmmm... Let's try:



"But those wounds are deeper
Now that they have reappeared,
Wounds which have penetrated the soul
Always remain that way."



...or something. You're kind of vague at expressing this part.

Those wounds were made
with a few choice words—
Some were by accident
some by malice

"Those wounds were made
By choices of but a few words,
Some said by accident,
And some released with malice."

A twisted smile was all it took
to lure me into a hangman’s noose.
The scar around my neck is still there,
red as a venomous snake.

The first two lines are very good and meaningful, but the next two are vague once again. I advice you to revise these, especially the last phrase. It doesn't really give me that 'impact', if you ever intended to hit us readers with one. It's kinda offset, actually.

For I did not just hang
in that noose one once used.
At first it was a leash,
dragging me through shame.

Erm. Clarify, if you will. The usage of words are good, but the meaning, I tell you once again, is vague.

But some rope did not leave.
It turns out there were two
and the second one,
made the wounds you now see.

The rope, or the marks of the rope? Now there are two nooses? Confusion is taking over.




Well, the poem was too long for the tired ol' me, so I'll just give a brief comment about the rest of the piece:



S-p-e-c-t-a-c-u-l-a-r.




...and just because it's so s-p-e-c-t-a-c-u-l-a-r, I didn't find any more faults.






Well, that concludes my review~





Thanks for reading!! Hope that helps, too.




+Katie+

Ah yes. Vague wording tends to be my weakness in poetry. I'll take a look at the sections you suggested. ^_^

Thank you for critiquing this! I know it's long and I'm trying to edit, but that's taking some time. I'm still rather "close" to this poem, so I need to put a bit more distance.

Thanks again!

~Rosey