Young Writers Society

How many times do you have to fall
into puddles of gasoline
and break perfect rainbows
to see
that you can’t do that?

This is sort of cute. But it’s also a little bit choppy. However, people don’t exactly fall on purpose, per say, and you make it sound like they did.

How many times to do you have to
yell and stomp and chant
poetic lies to the woman
driving by? she’s got kids
and all, and she don’t need
your shit.

*okay...that’s just sort of weird, dear. I don’t even know what to think about it. Like, who does that? No need to answer that*

How many times do you have to break
unbroken silence with muffled screams
of injustice and lies
before you realize
you are the problem?

*ooooohhhh....it’s getting good. Who is the audience you’re directing this towards?*

I mean, when will you realize you can’t
change the world? When will reality
shatter your fragile glasshouse and
make you bleed, so poetically, over
white carpet and hidden red walls?

*white carpet...hidden walls, bleeding poetically...hmmm, glasshouse? I’m sorry, I don’t get this at all.*

How many times can you think
you will change the world
before you realize
you are as meaningless as the rainbows
and unbroken silence you broke
and the undefiled white carpet
that now holds your blood?

Ouch. Sucks to be this person.

I don’t really like this poem, I didn’t understand the imagery. It’s better than any of my stuff, of course, but...still, it’s not nearly as dramatic as most of your stuff, it’s like...watered chestnuts, not to crazy and it’s not the best, but...you know?

It's aim was to profess a certain moral philosophy of perverseness. Not in the hey-little-kid-want-candy pervert, but the kind who realizes only a few, select persons will ever alter the world, no matter what you do. This is not to say, however, you will not be one of those persons, just that it is highly improbable and you should not rest your hopes on such a phantasmagorical wish.

Okay, thanks. I understand. But I will be one of those people, just wait...

How many times do you have to break
unbroken silence with muffled screams

Wow...I loved those two lines.
This was almost like a...geez. I can't think of the word...monologue...I think that's what I'm aiming for...only, it didn't put me to sleep and neither did it sound like the person was conceited or stuck on themselves...or stuck in thoughts (re: Caroline B. Cooney) the entire time.
I don't think I'm making mush since here, but...yeah,

Was there anoter *universal* poem attempt? I can see where you seem to have made admendments to makes it not so personal to just you, and tried to make it more comprehendible for the average Joe. Although, it still shimmers with talent - in particular, this part:

I mean, when will you realize you can’t
change the world? When will reality
shatter your fragile glasshouse and
make you bleed, so poetically, over
white carpet and hidden red walls?

Really just great.

Althought, I don't like how the poem finishes with a question. Maybe that's just me. I prefer definitive, more dramatic endings, than a hanging ending.

I mean, when will you realize you can’t
change the world? When will reality
shatter your fragile glasshouse and
make you bleed, so poetically, over
white carpet and hidden red walls?

I agree with Firestarter that this is the best part.

she don’t need

*shudders* I hope this was for artistic purposes only. I loathe the misuse of "don't" and "does not." Maybe because I hear it so much down here.

How many times do you have to fall
into puddles of gasoline
and break perfect rainbows
to see
that you can’t do that?

"Puddles of gasoline and break perfect rainbows" is really beautiful. However, this part seems a little weak in comparison to the rest of the poem.

I like this poem a lot. It's simple, but possesses depth. You're one of the better poets on this forum. At least I think so.

-Sarah