The Cumulus stage
hands, so smooth,
held my own once;
warm and gentle, but
also slightly moist-
proof of your nervousness.
The Mature Stage
Evening dates-
they turned into nights spent
holding one another,
listening closely as your breath
became more steady,
as your mind slipped from the worries of our world,
and fell asleep to dream
of people other than me.
The Dissipating Stage
Nights spent,
spanned into weeks moved in,
and words from Devils I called friends,
causing you to stumble and fall
into another persons arms,
and staying out during nights
in which we called our own.
And as I sit here,
with one of two options
in both hands
I look up to the sky from the deck I built
with hands that were smooth from relaxation
before I met you,
I notice the silver lining in the sky,
and wonder,
can this storm we're in dispatch with the morning,
as is the one i'm currently watching,
while you're in the middle
of the Tornado itself.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,730 Reviews
Wow, this is great. The imagery is the clouds are wonderful; it adds so much meaning and depth to your work.
I like how you labeled each section, revealing the shifts in your poem, moving the reader's attention along with the flow of the poem--almost like the wind blows the clouds
The emotion in this seems a little understated when I read it. I feel like, you could've inserted more emotion. Right now, it seems to be a contemplative poem with little emotion and if that is what you were going for, then disregard this statement
But, great piece!
wah wah wah, holy fre shavacado.
(hope you got the reference)
hello, casanova. my name is jade and i am here to give a review for you beautimus poem.
for starters, this was so friggen good and i love ittt! i loved the form of this along with the imagery, as i was reading this all i could see was a couple drifting apart and everything kind of growing dark like a storm? I don't know if this is what you wanted me to see but it happened.
i truly lve how you did the word art, it looks like clouds. once again, no idea if it was intentional but it happened.
okay, now we get to le suggestions. on the last section where you said, "I look up to the sky from the deck I built with hands that were smooth from relaxation before I met you." I think you should put in fewer words since it disrupts the flow a little, perhaps put, "Sitting on the deck I built, before I met you and lived peacefully" This is just a mere suggestion, no need to fret.
ANyways time to leave since I'll just scare you away with vines and weirdness if I keep speaking.
"f*** this s*** I'm out"
I really liked the way that you constructed your poem! The tabs and the unique shape they create captures the reader's attention and makes them want to focus. I like your use of imagery in describing the phases of the clouds as pieces of the story, but you might want to use different types of clouds for emphasis. For example, you could call the first one Cumulus, as you did, then the next one Cirrus as things start to drift apart. Slowly you could build toward Asperitas- angrier, gray clouds- as you mention the storm.
Just a suggestion!
Not here to review, but I just wanted to say that this is such a beautiful and brilliant metaphor and I love it!
omg you're still around!!!!
Yeah! I disappeared for a while bc of family issues but I'm still here!
Gooooood i wondered what had happened to you!
Haha it's a looooong story. But I'm so glad to see you're still around as well!
I'm a parasite that needs a host! LOL