Folded Paper

This poem speaks to me, I have often asked myself who I am. We get so many different people's perspectives on who we are that we don't know which to believe. I love the allegory you used hear very unique and original. I can sympathize with your plight, and love your poem.

Incredible. Absolutely incredible. You managed to touch on a topic that many teens feel but rarely discuss. I know that I myself have felt this way many times. One fold for my parents, another for my Christian friends, another for my non-Christian friends. Some days I wonder who I really am.

This brought me to tears, and was written quite eloquently.

It is missing several commas, however. Each sentence that does not end with a period should have a comma, colon, or semi-colon in lyrical poetry.

Other than that I can find no problems with this. Very good job.

Happy Writing!
HT

Hi Auxiira,

You are toying with a brilliant idea here. I love the fact that the person is like a paper, with folds. But I believe there is so much more you could do with this idea. I liked the poem, and it was good. Steady flow, steady rhythm. But all a bit safe. I'll explain what I mean.

It's all fine and dandy at the beginning. Deanie's loving it You ask a few rhetorical questions about who you really are. And then it's almost like the poem starts again. I feel like you ran out of ideas and that you repeated the again instead of ending it. It was a bit too much of the same, then, for my liking.

What emphasizes this is that you always use the world fold and crumple. It needs some variations, something different in there. It's a good poem, but it can start getting dull if it's too samey. My advice is to add in new ideas, and keep going! There's so much you can do with paper! Throw it away, rub everything out and start again. Who knows? The speaker may even end up cut into little shreds on the floor. Unleash those creative juices!

Deanie x

Hi there.

I really like the idea of a person being a piece of paper that just keeps getting folded and unfolded so different color appear. Great ideas.

Your execution, I think, could use a bit of work.

This poem is much longer than it needs to be. You have a tendency toward wordiness, and lots of things in this poem aren't needed. Most of the questions you're asking rhetorically are popping out and basically telling the reader the point of the poem. I'm not saying that you shouldn't make your point clear, but I am telling you that you need to not spoil it too much for the reader.

Also, the beginning isn't doing it for me. The mirror holds no purpose except to help you start talking, which is the most common (and for me, one of the most annoying) way to start describing yourself. And here, you don't even touch your physical description with the mirror. It's easy enough to say "I can't recognize myself" in a way that doesn't involve a mirror.

I suggest breaking away from the four line stanza thing. It works for some things, but for this, it seems to impose limits that aren't working for you. It makes you add lines that don't really need to be there, and omit lines in other stanzas that could help you make a stronger point. If you're going to rewrite this, I wouldn't break it up into stanzas before you have exactly what you want to say down. Add breaks if they must appear, and only where they are absolutely needed.

I also suggest not writing in such complete sentences. This is about knowing who you are, yes? It's okay to use fragments stylistically, and if you do that, it helps the reader get more of a lost, confused feeling (the one you're trying to convey). Experiment with fragments and more images that apply to the big metaphor.

Now, you don't have to write it like this, but this is more of the kind of thing I think you should think about doing. It's more simplistic, but focuses on the image more, and also manages to get most of your message across. I'm not telling you to write it exactly this way. Obviously, you have great ideas. This is just an example.

I am crumpled
like a ball of paper tossed
into a trash can.
My creases collect dust
in kaleidoscope colors.
Am I even one piece
of paper anymore?
My original fold
cannot be found;
colors culminate
in the erratic folds
of fifteen years.
Where did my plain
paper self go?

Wow that was a great poem, A wonderful metaphor which i dont think anybody has come up with, In a personal note we all go through many trails and tribulations and life seems hard for us human beings but outlets such poetry can heal many unhappy souls so stay strong and keep writing.

Going back to your poem it was well written, with a solid structure which makes every word have a certain feel. im not very good talking about the devices in poetry as im a writer who just writes freely in which i really commend you for the theam you came up with.

Keep writing as you have a wonderful talent.