Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language and violence.
These ancient, wide old trees only let in the softest breaths of sun,
everything slowly unfurling and sprouting in this cool light.
Eda sprints towards me,
and I duck,
as her short sword slices down,
but she parries my strike at her
ribs.
We step apart,
panting,
sweat rolling off my brow but
not into my eyes.
not into my eyes.
I lunge forward aiming for her
thigh to slice open the artery
there and bleed her dry-
leave her twitching on this soft moss.
But I don’t.
I jerk-
we’re both surprised-
I jerk to her left before my brain told my legs to do so.
My arms catch up first,
but she spins before my blade meets her kidney
and her block is hasty and fuck
that hurt, ringing through into
my spine like a hammer on a knife on an anvil,
but badly,
ruining the knife
against the anvil.
I trip over a rock behind me.
Just a step, and I adjust, quickly,
but I was off balance and when she pushes
off
against the ground and
kicks
I have to fall
like Troy
(who’s Helen?)
and her sword stands like she had buried it in clay.
We’re both panting.
She looks at me,
in the eye.
Her eyes are hot.
Not the warm honey eyes of a lover.
Not the bright devil eyes of a rival.
But hot, like a fire within myself.
We’d both been here for so long.
I can’t remember why I was fighting.
And the heat of her eyes is not remorseful.
I can see neither guilt, nor hatred.
I think, privately, we are past emotions,
and have just been left with this heat.
She will not draw this out, for there is no pleasure in that,
not in this gentle embrace in this sage old forest.
She drags down, quickly,
pulling her blade out,
then leaning on it,
between my ribs.
My intestines spasm- I can see them.
A shocking green blends with the outpouring of blood,
as my liver bursts open.
It’s all brown, like the dirt.
And god, I feel so warm,
leaking like this.
It spills all around me,
my lungs like a brown paper bag wheezing.
My skin almost seems to fall to the side.
I cannot tell when my body releases everything it held.
I am so warm, I cannot distinguish between them.
It is pleasant, to die here.
I would rather have lived but,
a bug crawls over me after she’s left,
more, more, many bugs,
and decay what is now empty
everything now brown apart from my deepest centre,
which is closer to purple.
My eyes no longer see,
but they stare through and deep into this moss,
and slowly sink in to it.
I love the way this poem is written! it doesn't provide any background. but to be fair, it doesn't need one! you are thrown into the middle of what seems to be a very heated one on one battle. there is one thing that confuses me,
"but I was off balance and when she pushes
off
against the ground and
kicks"
To me, the use of spacing out the last part of the action seems a little odd, but that's probably just me being nitpicky, this is a great work!
Hey Baezel!
First Thoughts:
Let's see. This is something pretty unique! I like that you used prose to show the fight scene since it gives you quite a few chances for dramatic pauses and such. I'm already viewing this as something more figurative with the poetry tag, and you do an interesting job about it!
I'm perplexed on the opening lines of
because I can't really find a connection between that setting and the fight scene. It feels detached at the beginning of the poem. There's a few hints of the forest around the two yes, such asThese ancient, wide old trees only let in the softest breaths of sun,
everything slowly unfurling and sprouting in this cool light.
but I almost would like those two lines more at the end, since the characters have now established on their own where they are. In addition, these two lines are a lot longer than the majority of the poem. If nothing else, I would recommend you cut those lines or change their format to match the rest!sage old forest.
but why does the narrator believe they are past emotions? I'd love to delve more into how the main character feels, besides just the fighting and trying not to be killed.we are past emotions
the single word-lines help paint the scene, and definitely makes this a little more dramatic.but I was off balance and when she pushes
off
against the ground and
kicks
because I'm trying to envision someone not drawing out the stabbing, but she leans on the blade in between the narrator's ribs? To me that seems cruel, but maybe I'm not picturing it correctly.She drags down, quickly,
pulling her blade out,
then leaning on it,
between my ribs.
or does he mean the ground? And the liver's brown? I'm really thrown by that portion.A shocking green
meant to have other content, because I'm confused by the connection from wanting to live to bugs crawling over the narrator's body.I would rather have lived but,
a bug crawls over me after she’s left,
more, more, many bugs
]Hello there, Akelia here for a review!
I do reviews a little differently than others do, the critiques, negative things and stuff you can do better are called 'Sours' and the things you did well on are called 'Sweets.' This poem overall did a great job in presenting the series of events to and during his death. It was well written in that sense. Well done. Now, onto the review!
Sours:
1. The section where it said-
"like Troy
(who’s Helen?)
and her sword..." -is a little choppy while reading the poem. I recommend to either remove the "(who's Helen?)" completely or to adjust it so it flows into the stanza.
2. In this section-
"panting,
sweat rolling off my brow but
not into my eyes.
not into my eyes" -and in several other areas there is no capitalization. In this case you should cap the "not" to "Not" on the second "not into my eyes" line. Also throughout the poem there was several instances of where capitalization was a tiny problem. A quick fix will do much good!
Sweets:
1. Description was well executed! You used excellent words to describe the scene, what was going, how he was dying and even what they were feeling during the fight scene. Going from the physical to the mental side of a fight can be difficult but you did a good job!
2. You introduced the characters easily, and I did not find myself wondering who they were. Good job!
Well done over all! Remember, never stop writing!
-Akelia
120,121 Literary Works • 648,690 Reviews
Points: 69
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