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S.J.H 3

by Casanova

In my dreams you sing to me

my darling, how long has it been since the end?
when was it when you said we could just be friends?
you're moved on, and so had I, I thought
but is it worth fighting a war that's been previously fought?

in my life you own my heart

my life, my soul, my body combined
                           are all yours for the taking,
       not given by me,
                   yet given by grand design
my works, my dreams, my hope and despair
                            all bright fruit upon my tallest branches-
          yours to pick and have
if you're strong enough to climb back up
                       into my mind which shelters and comforts you
only when my thoughts are for you


Ice shavings rain down
                         on a piece of a forgotten mirror
the fog settles slowly; making a
                               haze on the shattered pieces
her face was etched into the smooth glass,
                           and a single tear drop floods down my face
as I see a fog settle on it
                    (almost as if she was breathing)


when I hear your name
                   I'm reminded of ear buds
                                       hanging from a smiling mouth
and the mysterious wonder of what could have been
          it's all wrapped in a bow
                                     always in tow
                                              no matter where I go
             it's there to haunt me

what if I had stayed
               when your mind was leaning towards the empty nozzle?
or what if I ran
at the first signs of decay

sometimes I think we'd be better of
                                 yet sometimes I think
my hopes and dreams for you
           aren't gone,
and that you still love me
                       so I cannot pretend
that I don't love you any more


her seven-sinned-whip
                 used to lash across my chest -
                                    shredding everything it touched
and every night
                she would bandage it
                                     only to tear it off again
     when morning came

letting the old blood
             the dry sweat and tears
be torn apart
       only to be replaced with the new


           We dance on
         the ocean floor
our step graceful and slow and slow-
         a blissful ballad
that turned into skirts flailing and shoes jumping-
        a hysterical waltz
 spinning around and again,
       fingers intertwined

at first I thought this meant we would never let go,
yet when you spot a better dancer
                            standing near the punch bowl that was spiked with
something your friend brought on the bus
       you traded me for him
                        and I saw the corners of your lips curl,
when I hit my knees in shock


with every match that strikes
more ashes are added to the pile.

building, slowly, churning into a mountain of pain.
sparking, lightly, inflaming into a world of regret.

with every cut that's made
more blood is added to the mix.

fusing, harshly, creating a deadly poison.
weaving, steadily, into the twine of sin.

how can my phoenix-
              so young and tender, full of life
be met with so many lights already?
the first when you were young,
                              and your grandmother passed
the second when your stepfather destroyed you,
                                                                            and left you for dead

there are many in between, but the last..
the last that I know of would to of had to have been me
                                      when we loved and fought, yet stayed side by side
yet when one love came along, and you were gone,
             I gave up, and tried to move on,
       but now I realize, I should've tried for you
                                         instead of leaving your ashes on the cold dark floor,
          never to be heard or seen again

with the as last match that strikes,
the last ounce of ashes are added to the pile

with the last cut that's made,
the last drop of poison is added to the mix.

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1519 Reviews

Points: 159666
Reviews: 1519

Thu Aug 10, 2017 7:02 pm
IcyFlame wrote a review...

Hi Casa, I'm here to rescue this piece from the clutches of the green room.
I'm guessing since you mentioned these were multiple poems put together, that you wrote them all at different times and then tried to amalgamate them into one. This is an admirable effort, but unfortunately some of your stanzas don't quite fit together and they read as different poems.

You've got multiple styles here, and I think that's the problem. Each style is unique and well written, but where you've tried to put them all together it just doesn't quite fit and it jumps about an awful lot.

It's almost as though you can't pick one style and because of that things look out of place. The whole thing is very ambiguous which I'm sure is what you're going for but because of the sheer length of the poem it starts to get a little old and boring by the end which is a shame because your last stanzas are just as good as the first.

Personally I'd suggest you have a read through this and work out which parts fit and which do not. You don't need to include all of it just for the sake of it. The writing styles are lovely but this just doesn't seem to do it justice.

Hope this has been helpful.

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1081 Reviews

Points: 220
Reviews: 1081

Thu Aug 10, 2017 11:02 am
Virgil wrote a review...

Hi there Casa! This is Nikayla here dropping in for a review at a somewhat ungodly time of the morning. Not early enough for me to be completely awake so I'll give you what I've got.

Of course, I won't be going stanza by stanza or line by line this time around seeing as this is a longer poem. I'll be pointing places out obviously but I'm going to attempt to stay out of that hole because there is a lot of content that I'm able to cover here because of the length. Another one of these, huh? Never thought I'd see a third to be completely honest. And in this structure and format? Oh boy. I see that this skips the periods this time around and pulls lines from other poems of yours.

I didn't realize this until I read the third stanza about ice shavings and the rest started coming back. What I'm unsure of is the first two stanzas--are those exclusive to only this poem or did one or both of them come from elsewhere? It'd make sense if the first stanza came from the first S.J.H. and the second stanza is from the second. However, both of those work fairly well together with that repetition that comes not only in the first line but also in the line before the second stanza begins.

However however, I also now know that each stanza starts off with being from a different poem and after a couple of lines, a new and improved section is written. On the topic of improvement, the third stanza is needing a bit of that. For example, at the end of this stanza in parentheses is the line 'almost as if she was breathing' which I'm pretty sure is a contradiction that you weren't aware of?

She/her and 'you' seem to be being used interchangeably throughout the poem. I doubt this is on purpose but unless these are different people (I'm pretty sure this piece is just about the person in the title) I'm going to suggest switching to one set of pronouns and sticking with them throughout. If it were my pick, it'd be 'you/your', though overall that's your choice to make.

Now that I'm off that little filing of a complaint, the third stanza probably doesn't work that well compared to the other stanzas because this is less based around the other person. The other stanzas are all a bit more clear and tend to mention the romantic interest of the speaker more often. There's a lot of teensy tiny issues that I have (particularly with the consistency of the punctuation or the piece) that are holding me back from enjoying this at full potential. A better example is the fact that earbuds is one word--the small grammatical issues kinda threw me off.

That being said, there's another problem that I wanted to talk about. The main quarrel that I hoid with this poem is the lack of cohesiveness. This is to be expected from a poem that pulls from other poems and then mashes them back together similar to a collage. The tone and atmosphere shift quite a bit throughout and the imagery jumps from place to place thoughout the piece. Try and get these on a similar wavelength and go from there from doing a bit of general trimming and revision. There's definitely potential for this but to fully unlock that potential, a layer of polish needs to be added.

If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask! I hope I helped and have a great day.


We know what a person thinks not when he tells us what he thinks, but by his actions.
— Isaac Bashevis Singer