James, for Anne

by Denia

Published September 22, 2010

In James and Anne

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Your not really supposed to understand this.. James is the one talking. If you do understand your probably high or just...
thanks





James
for Anne


Jupiter smiles
and the whistles
go on as
your mother
cuts open a
violin, it screeches
and she chokes
and she screams
and we sleep
above all of it
death dreams of us
as we combust
in each other and
soldiers rip up
all the innocent flowers
that lie on the cobblestones
covered in prayers
that go unheard by anyone
as the
screams, not of pain
we produce are
astounding us.

Goldaline called us the frozen lovers.
Will you freeze with me?

Ripped apart its empty,
aching
Terrible boys in wings,
fly above you as i sear into nothingness

You must believe
and know, my Anne
that I didn't want this
and your memory dies with me

Comments & reviews · 6
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Matt Bellamy
Review
Matt Bellamy wrote a review Review · Sep 26, 2010

Hi! Well, when you preface your poem by telling people they probably won't understand it, it doesn't really fill me with confidence. :P At best it means you don't expect the reader to be able to relate to it, and at worst, it means the reader may be utterly confused. I wasn't particularly confused by it, but I think it's always nice, albiet not neccessary, but nice, to be able to relate to the narrator. Having said that, I do think it's a well-written piece. The last parts kind of look like they've just been tagged on the end, but I do really like the last two lines. So all in all, well-written, and nice ending.

User avatar
Snoink
Review
Snoink wrote a review Review · Sep 26, 2010

Denia! I love your first stanza! It's clipped and short and strange and beautiful all at once. Love the talk of Jupiter... it reminds me of Roman mythology! And the talk of the mom kind of connects them in a way that I really like! Plus the violin? That's just creepy awesome! So I really like what you wrote for your first stanza!

I would probably get rid of the rest of the poem though, lol. This part:

Goldaline called us the frozen lovers.

Will you freeze with me?

Ripped apart its empty
aching

Terrible boy in wings

fly above you as i sear into nothingness

You must believe
and know, my Anne

that i didn't want this
and your memory dies with me


Here, it seems really random and fragmented. But I really love everything else! :D

User avatar
Tenyo
Review
Tenyo wrote a review Review · Sep 26, 2010

Oo, this is slightly captivating.

I like the scattered thoughts, and the poem as a whole. I'm not sure if I'm too keen on the short lines though. Because they're all so short it read more as a constant stream of writing rather than separate lines. I guess whether that is a good or bad thing depends on what effect you were going for.

'Your mother cuts open a violin,' I love this line, I'm not sure why. It's not just the imagery, but the concept of it. Violins are supposed to be played with gentle strokes, to cut into a violin is different, and that makes it interesting.

I definately didn't like the way the first part was all in one stanza, but the second was split by line breaks. It's a little too chaotic, especially since the subject of this poem is quite soft.

Overall, good job. Keep it up :)

TheWrittenChef wrote a review Review · Sep 25, 2010

Curious as much lol!
It's not bad, but it is agreed that the thoughts are scattered.
It's interesting at best, and if I was to ever get high in my life; perhaps I would come back to this poem and try to figure it out.
I look forward to seeing more from James.
Or whoever he may be...
Again, very interesting

-The Written Chef

User avatar
ambrosiaa
Review
ambrosiaa wrote a review Review · Sep 22, 2010

Actually it's not that hard to understand. It is true that you wrote seperate ideas and scattered images that cannot really be related. But hey are all sad, you have filled this poem with agonized cries of scattered dark whispers. It is very special, and not everyone is capable of understanding it. You have to have suffered deep pain in order to be able to comprehend the least images of grief between the lines.

Write on, it's your thing.



To gain your own voice, you have to forget about having it heard.
— Allen Ginsberg