And Thus She Waits

I kind of agree with Paladin...and by kind of I mean really. I think what happened here was you had a small idea and tried to make it big. Small ideas can be turned into big ones on occasion, but you have to be careful with that, it just comes with practice.

Your punctuation, you've got the right idea that you don't need it at the end of every line, but you also have to realize that a punctuation mark marks the end of the phrase, like a sentence.

I don't think this poem is completely worthless, but it's pretty close. I can see there was an idea and an intent in there, so it's just a matter of finding it again. Sit down with a hard copy of this poem write down what the point is on another piece of paper, what you want the point to be, and then go through and pick out all the lines that follow this. Then OMIT the lines that repeat what you've already said, then, re-write every line so they have a lot more imagery and make the reader go "holy crap!".

Practice, practice, practice is the best advice i can give to you, as well as to read a lot of poetry too.

Best of luck, lots of love,
Alice

Hello I'm LastPaladin and I shall be your reviewer, I felt after the second 'mellow' line I wanted to scream, not what you were looking for. This is just pure... I won't say not right now, I shall first explain why I feel this way, and why I feel need to be so harsh, because honestly, just piece is just... *takes deep breath*

This piece is boring, dull, repetitive and overly ambitious it doesn't seem to have any goal other than sending the readers to sleep, it doesn't seem to have an destination other than putting itself into a coma. It's so bland it's beyond belief, it's not often I find a piece so uninteresting I get irritated by it, sure it's angst poetry when it does, but this is like easy listening music put on freaking difficult, the music isn't easy to listen to, it's like being a classroom with a teacher going 'blah blah blah blah blah.' I mean that literally. It's honestly like that, I can't understand where you're coming from and the insistence on repeating such a bland uninteresting phrase that has no context is the final straw.

Overall: This piece just bores me stupid, it's honestly like if I finish reading I'll fall asleep, it's not smart, or clever it just plain old dull. I'm sorry this is harsh, but this poem just is awful, it doesn't even try interest us.

Sorry... but hope this helps somehow...

Hey Adam,

My first question would be: did this poem really have to be this long? Reading it, I felt like there wasn't as much actual content as the length of it suggested. Instead you're having a lot of repeated lines, or at least redundant ones, which distract from the point of the poem.

Your images are also kind of bland. "She's just like an old lady / On a rocking chair." makes me go "okay, old lady. And?" Expand on it; how exactly is she like an old lady? In the complacence, the tiredness, the mental age, the weariness? There's so many ways this could be taken, and while it could be left vague on purpose to imply all these meanings, it doesn't look to me like it's what you were going for here.

Your descriptions seem too flat: blue eyes, pretty hair, smooth wood, yellow light, glowing skin... okay, sounds like any cliché pretty girl we've ever seen. What sets her apart? What makes the narrator focus on her so?

The sudden landscape imagery you have next is jarring; it was pretty domestic so far, very princess-in-a-tower feel to it, but then you just dump us outside wondering what exactly happened. Same with that knife of yours. Where's it come from? What's the real point of it? What point you can make is lost in the repetitions and the dull glaze of imagery you have at the end. Make things pop out a little more and excise what isn't needed, it'll make this a lot more interesting.

AdamBH wrote:She sits in a room
Of gold and of silver,
Pretending she's happy,
Pretending she's there;
But if I do look at her
I will know better:
She's just like an old lady
On a rocking chair.

Her hair is so pretty, There is alot of "is so" in this stanza. I suggest using a wider variety of vocabulary.
Here eyes are so blue.
The wood is so smooth
And the light is so yellow;
Look at her glowing skin,
Feel down her fire,
So why? Why does she sit there
Looking so mellow?

Mellow...mellow...mellow melancholy.

And the sun shines its hazy heat
For the last time.
The wind will break out
And the rain will start falling;
Storm and toil in the
Rippling lake of life
She will cry out like a
Dying wolf calling.

Fire burns her
Red silky dress,
That flows and follows
Along the boiling river;
Thrust open the door!
Let the cold in
To warm her -
To cradle her toiling shiver.This last sentence is beautiful. I love it :]

Mellow...mellow...mellow melancholy...

And thus she waits, but now here I am.
I'm taking a step - and a step too far for her.
Just as the knife would slip into her heart,
A different one will cut a different skin.

Out of the storm...
Out of the rain...
Destiny broken -
Stop playing this game.
Dance, and dance in the moonlight
With all the leaves
All the trees.
All the
Roses...

Mellow...mellow...mellow melancholy.
Shadows from the past
Fading into a future
Like fire and water that die into smoke.
The smoke will fly, high
Into the sky,
To flow and burn
Forever with me.

She turns around.
Her rosy cheeks.
Her rosy lips.
Her tulip eyes.

She holds my hand.
Her silky skin.
Her silky breath.
Her mmmellting shadow... There's only one m and one l in melting.