Young Writers Society

I saw this when you first posted it, but it needed to sink in, and I've come back to read it and am even more amazing.

I think fall should be falls, but Kitty said that. I look forward to seeing the new draft. ^_^ Really, all I can say is: it gives me shivers.

I enjoyed this very much. One suggestion: lose/replace "Inspiration seeps into my fingers". It's overused and out of place in a poem that prides itself on new insights.

Well, you wanted it, you got it!

Once, I drank from spattered heroism.
Lines of nobility splintered like knives
into my skindepths, misting my perception:
then, bitter yesterdays tore dreams
from reality; death walked so silently.

I learnt from intricate machinations;
the brutal torch of instruction,
formulaic falls and highs. Somewhere
there was something special
between the stuttering prose--
scrawled morality, false hope,
ugly beauty--I learnt how to fight.

Inspiration seeped into my fingers,
I drew words into my head. Raw art
forged and borrowed from you.
I wish I could have seen your own last stand;
a hero fall white and wordless.

Jack,


I like this overall, but certain things keep nagging at the back of my skull. For instance, L3S1 is particularly atrocious with its clunkiness. Dreams being ripped from reality is likewise too heavy-handed for my tastes. "ugly beauty" also is a warning flag (call me fanciful, but I might prefer something more akin to "British beauty" or some specific locale where machinations prevail). Lastly, you might consider converting this to the present tense. I don't see how the past is doing anything but making this passive and un-engaging.

All that aside, your ideas, save a few rough spots, are working nicely.


Best,
Brad

Thanks for the responses everybody! I'm editing in a new draft right now.

Wow, this is a nice poem. Other than getting rid of the conjunctions that other people suggested that you do I have nothing really to say about it. It's deep and it's (to me) written in a semi classical style (1800s to early 1900s). What I really like, though, is that you didn't totally butcher the style by making it incomprehensible buy you still made it so that you have to read over it a couple of times to totally get it. Nice Job.

Lines of nobility splintered like knives
into my skindepths, misting my perception:

a hero fall white and wordless.

Somewhere
there was something special
between the stuttering prose--
scrawled morality, false hope,
ugly beauty--I learnt how to fight.

I have a question, is learnt really a word. If so I should get out more. Over all I really liked this poem, wish i could do that, but I can learn. Just a few thing that could make it a bit better in my eyes, but maybe not yours or others.

1.) The breaks you put in the lines seem odd to me, some work others don't

formulaic falls and highs. Somewhere
there was something special

Lines of nobility splintered like knives
into my skindepths, misting my perception:
then, bitter yesterdays tore dreams
from reality; death walked so silently.

Hey Jack. ^_^

I may be less than helpful constructively. But I had to make a note -- this was brilliant. You've drawn simply what is so easily stumbled through excessively. And the imagery is deft. The brevity of some of the sentences punctuated especially. ^_^

White and wordless, to echo gummy. I've had a good few minutes, reading and rereading the final stanza. ^_^

I love how deep this poem is and it's so well written! This is the sort of piece that I find myself re-reading so that I can give the words a chance to sink in and reveal all their layers of meaning. After the third reading, I can tell you that it's fantastic, has a great flow and is practically flawless but this wouldn't really count as a critique if I didn't have a few comments and suggestions now would it? So here we are...

Once, I drank from spattered heroism.

Lines of nobility splintered like knives

formulaic falls and highs. Somewhere

there was something special
between the stuttering prose--
scrawled morality, false hope,
ugly beauty--I learnt how to fight.

Thanks for the suggestions, gummy.

And thanks again Misty =)

I am a very proud muse.
It's like I told you yesterday, you start a story with eloquence, build emotion throughout, and then end with such a punch that it sticks that emotion right in your readers (er, my) body. It feels very physical. It's lovely.

Hmmm, yummy.

First stanza, I'll take out "so." Interrupts a very nice rhythm you have going.

[s]Once,[/s] I drank from spattered heroism.
Lines of nobility splintered like knives
into my skindepths, misting my perception:
[s]then,[/s] bitter yesterdays tore dreams
from reality[s];[/s], [conjunction] death walked so silently.

falls and highs.

scrawled morality, false hope,
ugly beauty--I learnt how to fight.