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Young Writers Society



One sleep too many (collaboration; Karzkin, PenguinAttack, Cadi)

by Karzkin


I once found myself addicted
to the ache in my shoulders and the pulse
in my throat
but I tried to make my limbs fall off
like a redgum in summer
because there wasn't enough blood to go around.
 
"These letters don't write themselves, you know"
advice from Death, sitting by the Styx with our feet
in the swirling red water.
 
Six feet under a grove of trees
and the creek lies in dust, 
the soft whisper of wind against a crack
in a two-foot grave, 
we can hear the leaves hit the ground. 
 
We sat with ambrosia teacups far from Olympus
with sulphur and ash and dead pine-trees,
and nothing but dust and dead gods clinging
to the backs of our throats, because dust
doesn't rise since we dammed the river
with all the things we left behind.
 
What was water and tails of foam
now drier than a dry thing - a river of sand
currents, waves and eddies all
of tiny grains and abraisve flow.
I guess it would be nice to have the water back,
but these days, sand is all I know.
 
And they say, what is sand to me
but the slipshod birth of glass;
all the wear and tear 
without the cool, clear sound. 
I harbour the grudge of knowing,
so raw and new this birth.
 
Even still, all I want now 
is you
to take me home.

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191 Reviews

Points: 7136
Reviews: 191

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Mon Jul 09, 2012 7:07 am
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Nargles wrote a review...



Hi,
Firstly good job all of you.
You create this bizarre story very well, even if I haven't quite figured out all of it yet :)

I feel though that you try to put in all this description but can't quite pull all of it of.
Some you do but others you don't. Maybe it's because it's a collaboration that this happened but I think that if you just focus on what you are trying to say through the description instead of trying to make it sound fancy it will pay off. But I'm not to sure.

Okay secondly I would like to say that I really enjoyed some parts,

And they say, what is sand to me
but the slipshod birth of glass;
all the wear and tear
without the cool, clear sound.
I harbour the grudge of knowing,
so raw and new this birth.

this stanza was beautiful and there is so much imagery in it!

I'm still stuck on the story line, it seems like their is two story is one, but I'm sure I'll figure it out.

Good work guys :)

Nargles xxx




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935 Reviews

Points: 2806
Reviews: 935

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Mon Jul 09, 2012 2:59 am
Shady wrote a review...



Hey Karzin! Hey Penguin! Hey Cadi!

Okay, I'm no poet (so this review won't be of much technical help), but I saw that this wasn't getting any comments; and it seems to me that this is an excellent poem, and deserves feed back. :D

The story you tell in your poem is a bit confusing...actually I'm totally lost... But the words you used were beautiful; so I still enjoyed your poem! I like the description you used.

My only nit pick is that in one of your lines, you wrote: "now drier than a dry thing-a river of sand"~ I like your concept 'a really dry river of sand', but 'drier than a dry thing' seems a bit...I don't know, redundant? Perhaps try conflicting a dry thing with your river of sand...

*shrug* it's up to y'all.

Anyway, I liked the poem!

~Shady





Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us wordy evidence of the fact.
— George Eliot