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E - Everyone

Forgotten Ripples Turn to Glass

by indieeloise

We're waiting 'round the table

of forgotten glass,

but I can't find your reflection

in the mirror of your soul.

The quiet here

is haunting, our breaths



the wind behind your words

has gone forever still.

You remain, but your lungs

are stone.

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1087 Reviews

Points: 44360
Reviews: 1087

Sun Jul 28, 2013 6:40 pm
Sins wrote a review...

Hey there indie, you only received one review form your Secret Santa during Christmas in July, and so I'm here to give you your second review!

I'm going to warn you in advance that poetry reviews sure aren't my forte, but you haven't posted any prose in a while so I didn't really want to review something old. As a result, here I am! I just can't make any promises that I'll be very useful. :P But anyways, I actually really loved this. You use a lot of subtlety, and I like that. You don't tell us that the person the narrator is speaking about is dead (or something like that, I'm guessing), but you hint at it in the way you write. I think subtlety is especially effective in poetry because it makes the whole thing feel more... magical, and so I really do like this.

I don't really have any critiques to be honest, ummm... I guess the only thing I have is a suggestion. As it stands, this poem is very simple and the subject of it is very specific, and you don't really explore all that much. What I'm trying to say is that you focus entirely on how the person being discussed in this poem is gone/dead, and that's about it. Your narrator talks about the person being gone, but he/she doesn't actually talk about the person themselves. I've no idea if I'm making sense here and I fear that I may not be, but do you sort of see what I'm trying to say? I just think I'd like to see a bit more of the person your narrator's talking about here, and understand why your narrator has been so affected by their death/disappearance.

Now I'm not saying I want a detailed description about the person, from their shoe size to what they ate for their last breakfast, but I want to feel like I know them in a sense. That way, I think the impact of their death/disappearance will be far greater because we as readers feel connected to them in a sense. For example, you say how the person's lungs are now just stone, right? What were they like before they were stone? (metaphorically of course, I know their lungs aren't actually stone now.) Were they strong and powerful, and breathed bountiful life into this person? That's obviously a really bad example, but do you see the kind of thing I mean? Bring the person in your poem to life. That way, their death/disappearance will have much greater impact.

Other than that, I don't really have anything to suggest or critique. I honestly did really enjoy this poem, and as I said earlier, I adore the subtlety of it. It's really pretty. I know I've been really useless with this review, so I do apologise for that, but I hope my one suggestion is at least a little bit useful. But yus, anyways, if you have any questions or comments regarding this review now that I'm done, just let me know. I'll try and get back to you as soon as possible. Sorry again for giving you such a shabby review!

Keep writing,

xoxo Skins

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861 Reviews

Points: 29196
Reviews: 861

Sat Jul 20, 2013 11:20 pm
Morrigan wrote a review...

Hi, Indiee!

It's always a pleasure to read your poetry, and this is no different. I like your imagery, and this will probably be a relatively short review because of it!

I feel though, in this poem, that you repeat yourself, and it's not needed. The first and the fourth stanzas feel like repeats of each other with different words, and you should consider changing the poem so it is shorter, and cut out one of the same feeling stanzas.

The idea that the person the narrator is talking to has gone silent (or died, or left, or whatever if we're looking at it metaphorically) is also repeated an uncomfortable amount of times in such a short poem. My suggestion is to take the best parts from the repeated parts and combine and compress them so the poem is shorter, more straightforward, and less rambly.

The image I get from this is a white hall and a magical mirror water table with white clad kings sitting around, waiting for a sign, the poet leaning over the table like Harry leaned over the pensieve, nose close enough to touch the surface. If that makes sense.

I really liked this. Good job for it not being edited at all! I hope that this review will prove useful to you. Happy poeting!

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25 Reviews

Points: 672
Reviews: 25

Fri Jul 19, 2013 5:29 am
ClaireAura wrote a review...

I adore the feel of this piece :) its really well written. It captured my attention :D my favorite part was the ending

"You are here,

but you are silent;

you remain,
but your lungs are stone."

I really like your style of writing :) keep posting xxx

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374 Reviews

Points: 1747
Reviews: 374

Thu Jul 18, 2013 7:44 pm
tgirly wrote a review...

I like this poem; I agree with Via, the mood is lovely. I would consider changing the title though, if I was you. It's too long and a bit bulky and doesn't do the poem credit.

Wonderful job with punctuation. Punctuating poems can sometimes be so confusing, but you did a wonderful job here. However, I might take out the ; in the second to last stanza and just make the last stanza a sentence of its own.

Sorry this is such a short review. It's a short poem but a could poem and I wouldn't change anything about it. Wonderful job.


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7 Reviews

Points: 1081
Reviews: 7

Thu Jul 18, 2013 5:17 pm
viadelleombre wrote a review...

What a beautiful poem to read. I especially love the word 'wavelet'! I've never heard it before, it just sounds nice on your tongue to say it! I enjoyed the poem as to me it has an air of mystery as well as a little bit of sadness. I think maybe a sentence you should rework would be 'we once explored before' as I think it's a bit repetitive, or even just re-ordering the words, like 'we explored once before'. All in all that was pretty cool for a type of poem you don't do much!

It is only a novel... or, in short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language
— Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey