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Ghostly

by constantia


A/N: It's bad. It's really bad, I know. But. I tried really hard. Which is so sad to say, if it's indeed so bad. But. That's why I'm here? Haha Any kind of feedback is more than welcome!
xo gummies.

~~~

She crossed the room,
Meeting him at the open window,
A faint smile adorning her pale face.
 
The spring sunlight was glaringly bright,
The lawn, unfathomably green
The skies, immense and peaceful—
But wisps of clouds dappled the blue.
 
Tearfully,
He looked at her,
Failing to smile.
 
She grazed his wet cheek
With the backs of her fingers
And he closed his eyes
To just imagine the touch,
To just remember.
 
And when his eyes blinked open,
Searching,
She was gone.
 
The spring sunlight was soft and warm,
The lawn’s green hue, duller but not dead,
The skies were immense and peaceful,
But wisps of clouds dappled the blue.
 
He took a swig of brandy.
He watched memories unfold
In the glass window before which
He stood.
 
She was no longer his
To hold or to feel.
She was,
No longer.
 
She belonged to the white,
Blanketing the skies—
And perhaps she always had.


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Sat Feb 02, 2013 10:55 pm
Audy wrote a review...



Gummiebaerrs,

Glad to see you again! I see you've had some hard-hitting reviews already! I'm going to try my best not to repeat, so let's dive right into this!

Hannah gave great suggestions/improvements and it was exactly what I was gonna say -- far too many adjectives and far too many adverbs in this poem. If you don't like Hannah's suggestions, I would definitely encourage just scrapping away the adjectives.

That being said though, I love the narration in this. I like how there's this great epic romance story kind of feel to this, and the conflict seems to arise with the realization that this lady's a ghost. It brings to question whether the man was mourning a lost lover, or whether he had always fallen in love with the ghost. Even though there's a stanza in there about recalling memories and such, etc., the whole beginning of this piece seems to be their encounter, and when I first read it, I was under the impression that this was their first face-to-face encounter, I think at one place you mentioned "meeting", so I liked that aspect, that he could've fallen in love with a ghost literally, and not just the commonplace widower thing.

She belonged to the white,
Blanketing the skies%u2014
And perhaps she always had.


That last stanza was the strongest out of the whole piece for me, and really pieced the whole thing together. I liked the phrasing, "she belonged to the white" I would prolly remove the "blanketing the skies" line, just because it's pretty obvious you're referring to clouds/heavens, so give your readers some credit and don't insult their intelligence! xD

Let me know if you have any questions at all about this review, or if you want to chat this over some time. Best of luck with your future writing endeavors!

~ as always, Audy




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Sat Feb 02, 2013 2:43 pm
rwgbookwriter wrote a review...



IM Rwg Im going to Review this poem... This story is litttle cool, But need more facts on.give yourself morle time and look up some things that you need. Soooo........... keep up the good work. If you seen seen this comment me. From,me to,you




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Sat Feb 02, 2013 12:01 pm
Hannah wrote a review...



Here's my feedback!

She crossed the room,
Meeting him at the window,
A smile adorning her face.

The sunlight,
The lawn,
The skies,
But wisps of clouds dappled the blue.

He looked at her,
Failing to smile.

She grazed his cheek
With the backs of her fingers
And he closed his eyes
To imagine the touch,
To remember.

And when his eyes blinked open,
She was gone.

The sunlight,
The lawn,
The skies,
But wisps of clouds dappled the blue.

He took a swig of brandy.
He watched memories unfold
In the window before which
He stood.

She was no longer his
To hold or to feel.
She was,
No longer.

She belonged to the white,
Blanketing the skies—
And perhaps she always had.


Literally a different poem. Literally miles more powerful and touching. I hope it plays the same for you that the listing of the landscape pieces brings them to life without having to name their colors. I especially like just repeating them without changing them after she's gone. Changing them seems like over kill. Just keeping them the same gives an awesome tone, that the whole world is exactly as it was; she is the only thing gone. I understand trying to give some of the man's point of view in the way he sees the lawn and the clouds, etc., but you've enough of that laid plain in the stanzas to come that the repetition can stand and play an amazing part.

Consider. Very. Carefully. Every adjective and adverb you put in your poem. Does it strengthen or weaken your words? In this poem, nearly every single one weakened. Don't kill your poems like that anymore. I love this poem without the strangling words.

PM me if you have any questions, please. (:

Good luck, and keep writing! I'm always glad to see you around!




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Sat Feb 02, 2013 11:02 am
PenguinAttack wrote a review...



Hola Gummie,

Trident has already given you an epic review, so I'll try to follow up with some solid comments of my own.

Firstly, this poem definitely isn't terrible! I've read worse and I'll read worse again. Usually I'd leave author's notes like that at the end, so that they don't detract from how we take the very first look into the poem.

You have a solid handle on the need for imagery (imagery is my favourite part of any poem, really) and that makes me happy! At the moment it is a bit stilted. Part of that is because the images don't connect or flow into each other, they're butting heads. Take this for example:

The spring sunlight was glaringly bright,
The lawn, unfathomably green
The skies, immense and peaceful—
But wisps of clouds dappled the blue.


Lovely images but they feel disconnected and uncomfortable together, but we can do this with them:

Spring sunlight was glaringly bright
over the lawn, unfathomably green
under the immense and peaceful skies -
though wisps of clouds dappled the blue.


So here I've made it so each line begins with a different word - the repetition of "The" was getting in the way of the *appearance* of flow, which is almost as important as flow itself. The work on colours is good, I've just added words to connect the images, the sunlight over the lawn and the lawn under the sky. Think of this almost like prose, before your images wouldn't have made a sentence, now they do (with a bit mucked about in the middle). I changed "But" just for my own sake, not to say you should. Although I do suggest you don't capitalise every line of your poem. At least not until you've worked out some more comfortable flow. Capitalising every line makes you feel like they should almost be stand alone lines, but they don't have to be! In fact they usually should be connected.

She grazed his wet cheek
With the backs of her fingers
And he closed his eyes
To just imagine the touch,
To just remember.

This is my favourite for the first three lines, they're lovely and show an excellent grasp of the image. The only thing I'd actually suggest changing here, other than the capitalisation, is the "just" in the second last line and adding a d to "imagine, so you have "imagined the touch" you'd add a comma to the "eyes" above also then, probably. Then you've lost the repetition and you have a far more solid image progression, as well as a concept of meaning.

Those are the only specific paragraphs I'll look at because I think from reading this that you'll have a good attempt at working on these small ideas (sentence like lines and non-capitalisation for the sake of visual flow) and for now that should be enough. Trident has given you some amazing advice too. This definitely isn't a bad poem, it has a good strong base that you can work with to make a more focused, tighter poem.

Hit me up if you have any questions, queries or just want to chat!

~ Pen.




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Sat Feb 02, 2013 9:16 am
Trident wrote a review...



Hi gummie. I don't think what you have is terrible here. Just needs some practice. We'll try to get you going a little bit better here:

She crossed the room,
Meeting him at the open window,
A faint smile adorning her pale face.


Well, what you have here at least attempts to give us imagery, which is a good first step. You've strayed away from the whole abstract terminology thing, so that's good. The issue I have with these first few lines is that they are almost as if they came from a fiction piece. I mean, I can literally see this being in a book as part of someone's story. There's no attempt at meter, which isn't necessary. But it's also lacking in that poetic spirit that tries to play with words. Right now it's a staggered prose piece.

The spring sunlight was glaringly bright,
The lawn, unfathomably green
The skies, immense and peaceful—
But wisps of clouds dappled the blue.


You've certainly learned somewhere that good poetry is about imagery. The problem is, it's not about lists of images. If I can tack off one-by-one what your images are, as though I can just say in my head, "image, image, image" it's not really what we're looking for as readers. We need imagery, but it needs to be new, inventive images. Nouns mixing with adjectives mixing with verbs that don't quite go together in the traditional sense. But that do somehow go together because the poet has succeeded in melding them together.

Tearfully,
He looked at her,
Failing to smile.


Here's more of that fiction-like action. It's just stuff that can be cut.

She grazed his wet cheek
With the backs of her fingers
And he closed his eyes
To just imagine the touch,
To just remember.


Okay, here you're getting a little bit more into the spirit of poetry, but you're just not quite there yet. I highly suggest reading some good poets to see how they have treated their poetry.

He took a swig of brandy.
He watched memories unfold
In the glass window before which
He stood.


I think this is really the best part of your poem. You have this image of the guy swigging brandy, which elicits certain ideas. That's great, you didn't have to tell us. You showed us his emotion just through that simple idea. And the fact that he's drinking brandy also helps us understand a little bit. He's obviously not some rich prude, but he also isn't this trashy moonshine drinker. We can see him as something in between. And he's watching out a window; I would say that's a tad cliche, but it's much better at showing than you have done before. The reader is now imagining within themselves what emotions one gets from looking out a window. Pair that with the brandy-drinking and bam! you have this powerful scene where this guy is just enveloped in sorrow. Not once did you use the word "sad" or "morose" or any of that stuff and that's great because you didn't have to. You showed it all to us.

She was no longer his
To hold or to feel.
She was,
No longer.

She belonged to the white,
Blanketing the skies—
And perhaps she always had.


Now you allude to this girl being gone before, but this ending is just not working well for me. Number one, the first stanza is again just telling us. Not being able to feel or hold is horrible, yes. But one might as well just say, "She's dead, I can't hold her." Because that is about the same emotional value we get out of that first stanza. It's devoid of emotion.

The second stanza here is not so terrible, but you have to be careful that you don't try to do too much with it. A lot of the time I see poets try to make their conclusions powerful and mind-shattering, but they haven't set the foundation for it. It's like having a really good punchline, but you don't really tell the joke beforehand. It has the potential to be revelatory, but you need to build up to that.

I hope this helps a little. Please let me know if I can clarify anything. Keep writing, I can see you the potential to make something work here.




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Sat Feb 02, 2013 9:05 am
freedomgirl says...



nice job i like your way of writing and don't worry you will be better more and more with every day so don't give up and i have to say you are much better than me.........keep writing.





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