Young Writers Society

looking heavenward with gravity


moonlight tastes our wind-chapped faces, upturned,
triggering the shivers that had been fused to our spines
since God first bled rain onto steaming, skull-splintered asphalt.

abraded palms braced against an uneven sidewalk,
we, enlightened by the perfect circles of streetlamps,
unburden ourselves into empty amber bottles and
leak longing and secrets through jagged mouths until

the boundaries between cement and skin, reality and oblivion,
blur together irreparably, and glass lives
are ground to glowing dust under rubber tires.

I'm not a poetry expert, so bear with me.

This was really beautifully put, I mean, really pretty. But I didn't understand it.

I really like this. Full of images, powerfully connects with all the senses, and it stays focussed, too. The only real criticism I would have to make is that if you want to write a poem in that style, with adjective after adjective and few connecting phrases to uphold a plot, you might consider making it a little shorter, perhaps cutting it down to one stanza, so that it doesn't lose its thunder. Then with that stanza maybe cut the lines down a bit, so it has a good rhythm. There were also a few cliches (spine fusing, for example), but they didn't dominate the poem, and they weren't the most cliched cliches, either.

I really like it, particularly the "since God first bled rain onto steaming, skull-splitting asphalt" bit.