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Poetry Of A Living Nightmare. Yes? No? Like A Flower Petal.

by De artium magister est


As The Days Go on
The Nights Get longer
The Sun Goes Down
                                        Down
                                                Down
                                I Feel As If The Walls Will Swallow Me, Like A Bird In Quicksand

Like A Never Ending Spiral To My Inevitable Doom
          
                                        Birds Chirping
At Night, Shouldn't Happen. 


Like Day And Night AT The Same Time. 


Like 
Voices Coming From A Locked Door At Night.


Like A Code Etched Into A Dead Man's Spine


With Every Death Comes A terrible Life.
 Did That Just Happen To Be The Way It Started, Or Is There Something At Play.


If Life's A Game It's A Terrible One, One Where No One WIns.
 Its Like Its Some Sick Joke Being Played On Us All


Wheels, Turning, Spinning Forever Like A Blender Of Eternal Pain


Is Time Like A Record, Can You Wind It Back Against Its Will Seeing Everything That Ever Was, If So Can It Go Forward Too. Seeing Everything That Ever WIll Be.


A Planet On Course To Crash WIth The Moon, But Changed Off Course To Hit Earth. Was It Satin. Or Was It God.
Was Death To Us All A Curse, Or Was It A Beautiful Gift. To Be Free From The Chains Of Eternal Pain And Suffering.


Yes? No? That Is The Question That I am Asking. ANd You Should be Asking Yourself Now, What Did I Deserve To Be Brought Into This World Of Death ANd destruction. WHy Couldn't I Be A Flower Petal In THe Wind. Have Not A Care In THe World. To Truly Be Free.


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69 Reviews


Points: 174
Reviews: 69

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Mon May 25, 2020 12:40 am
Em16 wrote a review...



Hi, I’m Em16! First off, I’d like to say you did a great job with the tone of this poem. It felt so unreal and ethereal, almost like a ghost was writing it. The narrative voice was wispy and mysterious all at the same time. Part of that was the format and the font, I think.
I also like how there was a very definite theme. The speaker was exploring life, and what it means, and how we experience it.
I also loved how many metaphors you used. Some of them were great, such as “is time like a record”. I liked the way you played with that idea, wondering if you could go backwards in time.
However, some of the metaphors didn’t feel like quite right to me. For example, where you say “like a bird in quicksand”. Normally, when I think of creatures that fall in quicksand, i think animals and humans. Not really birds, because birds fly mostly. When they’re not flying, they’re usually in the trees, so I don’t see how they would get trapped in quicksand. If there’s a reason for the birds that I’m not understanding, definitely keep it. But otherwise, I would use another animal.
In addition, I was confused by the metaphor “voices coming from a locked door at night”. What do you mean by that?Why a locked door? Is it supposed to convey secrecy? Or fear? There are a lot of elements in this metaphor, but none of them is really clear enough to make it effective.
On a side note, in your second to last paragraph, you spelled Satan incorrectly. You wrote “satin” instead.
I liked your last paragraph, and the way it ended the poem. It was both definite and indefinite. It was very clear about what the poem was asking, in a way that hadn’t been clear before, but it didn’t give an answer. It left me thinking. I love the juxtaposition between “this world of death and destruction” and the idea of “a flower petal in the wind”. And I love the way you leave the reader with the tempting idea of “to truly be free”. It’s bittersweet. The idea of being free is one of the greatest ideas ever, but is it really possible? You explore that conundrum very well.
Overall, great job. This poem was incredibly unique, and I loved it.




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40 Reviews


Points: 1520
Reviews: 40

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Sun May 24, 2020 1:02 pm
Shadeflame wrote a review...



Hello De artium!

I'm Shadeflame and I'm here to review your poem.
Since I see you're new here,I'm just going to explain that the things down below are just suggestions and it's your poem. If you don't want to take them, that's totally okay!
Also, welcome to YWS!

I really liked the imagery in your poem. It helped me visualize what you were talking about, like when you wrote

Wheels, Turning, Spinning Forever Like A Blender Of Eternal Pain

I've never heard anyone compare life to "A blender of eternal pain" before and it's honestly my favorite line!

At the start, you put
I Feel As If The Walls Will Swallow Me, Like A Bird In Quicksand

For me, I felt that was talking about claustrophobia, but then you moved away from that and that sort of messed up the rest of the poem for me. Maybe you could revise that line a little?

When you put
Was It Satin. Or Was It God.

I think you must have put Satin instead of Satan by accident. I'm just mentioning this because it really tripped me up there for a second. I was so confused by who this Satin was. I kept thinking about the fabric for some reason. xD
You also need to put question marks at the end of those sentences.

There were some other issues with grammar but I'm not going to put those in, they were only minor.

I liked the way in your poem you mentioned the end of the world. Apparently, the world was destroyed at the end of the poem and you were questioning the fact that it was a curse. I loved that you put this in.

The ending lines
WHy Couldn't I Be A Flower Petal In THe Wind. Have Not A Care In THe World. To Truly Be Free.

were truly beautiful! They also echoed the statement you were making in your poem that death is better than life, and only in death can you truly be free. A flower petal blowing in the wind may look beautiful, but soon it will wither and fade.

Keep writing!
-Shadeflame

(P.S. I really hope you don't think like this in real life. Some parts of life may suck, but others are worth living for.)



Random avatar


Thank You For The Feedback! I realize now the bit about "satin".
P.S. I don't think like that in real life. I live life to the fullest. :)



Shadeflame says...


LOL
That's good. I didn't really think that you thought like this, it's just some people channel their real lives into their poetry.




Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other.
— Euripides