z

Young Writers Society



Fire

by ConvolutedEmpty


He wasn't.
Pyromania Arsen
burning black
paper coffins bleached blue
In his kindergarten classroom
At the tender age of two
Round the witching month
A couple days, beyond the witching hour
Wishing...
"Just a second, I'm not done yet, and I've yet to find my lighter"
convoluting lies and lies to reach
The effervescent sunrise
that he'd never really grasped
the fire... was his friend.
frightened him [une étoile]
it looked like mirror glass
in his space galactica eyes that
told him, in more words than a thousand and fewer sounds than muted birds
He never had a reflection anyways
He'd always applied the mascara looking through to mid air.
Funny boy.

***Interestingly enough this was one of the first poems I entered on this site, but it was in contest... *sigh* and I only ever got honorable mention... :cry:


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56 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 56

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Sat Nov 26, 2005 2:55 am
Snip Snip says...



It's interesting. It's kind of random though, a little hard to understand.

For some reason, I liked the paper coffins line. :D




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25 Reviews


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Sat Nov 26, 2005 2:09 am
Meta-Messiah says...



Lots of interesting images but there it does seem to lack a real sense of connection, that it is all part of the same poem, rather than a stream of images.




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170 Reviews


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Fri Nov 25, 2005 9:23 pm
antigone wrote a review...



I like the first line. And... I think I like the rest. I mean, it's really interesting. But it's also kind of hard to tell what your talking about. There's all these really cool words and images but they're not real obvious, and by the time you get one line figured out you can't remember what was said before, which makes it hard to see the poem as a whole that makes any sense. That said I really like it, and the fourth time I read it it started to make sense. But maybe you could edit a little to make it a bit clearer?




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915 Reviews


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Fri Nov 25, 2005 4:02 pm
Incandescence wrote a review...



Incomprehensible verse
has no place in first.
Perhaps if you would trim up your
words the doggerled nature
of your voice would be clear,
but as now, you're stumbling
through stanzas and the tinking
of your falls is damaging my ear:
Good Luck.





You are all the colours in one, at full brightness.
— Jennifer Niven, 'All the Bright Places'