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Young Writers Society



California Burning

by Gadi.


California Burning

We turn
the ashtray on its side

and watch the dry
black dust
drift away in the wind.

The snow
crunches under our feet
like an old melon
splitting.

Cold, red flares
are turning in our converged palms
like roasting chickens—
dropped—
sputtering on the white virgin ice.

A tree hisses brightly
in the window,
where the TV
flaunts America’s Last Wildfire.
The blue, red, yellow bulbs echo,
shine other red trees, faraway evergreens.


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267 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 267

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Mon Dec 08, 2008 7:16 pm
Someguy wrote a review...



Okay...This was weird...Really strange similes.

The snow
crunches under our feet
like an old melon
splitting.


Dude this really freaked me out.How do you see a crushed melon like FREAKING CRUNCHED SNOW!?!

Okay...On a serious note. This was really confusing. It was a bit unimaginative and didn't really excite me.
You have a weird choice of similes which might be your downfall in this poem.

We turn
the ashtray on its side

and watch the dry
black dust
drift away in the wind.


This was a strange place to break the lines apart. I saw what you did.(2; 3; 4; 5; 6) It just doesn't work for me.

All in all: This needs a lot of work. It has a strange choice of similes and that is not good. We must be able to imagine the simile, therefore it needs to fit what you compared it with. You can't compare a swan with a wrecking ball.(Unless of course you are writing one hell of a dementing poem)

Hope it helps :wink:




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143 Reviews


Points: 1781
Reviews: 143

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Mon Dec 08, 2008 6:03 pm
anti-pop wrote a review...



Gadi. wrote:California Burning

We turn
the ashtray on its side
(This space shouldn't be here...unless it was an accident ^^)
and watch the dry
black dust
drift away in the wind.

The snow
crunches under our feet
like an old melon
splitting. (Think of the sound of snow crunching and a melon splitting: do they really sound the same?)

Cold, red flares (Can flares be cold?)
are turning in our converged palms
like roasting chickens—(Try using a more serious simile for this piece; 'roasting chickens' distracts from the mood you're trying to create)
dropped—
sputtering on the white virgin ice. (I like this last line)

A tree hisses brightly (I don't think trees can 'hiss brightly'. The flames on a tree can hiss brightly. I had to re-read this line a few times before I understood what you were describing)
in the window,
where the TV
flaunts America’s Last Wildfire. (Last Wildfire should not be capitalized)
The blue, red, yellow bulbs echo,
shine other red trees, faraway evergreens.(This last line doesn't make any sense to me. 'shine other red trees'...huh? Try rewording it so that the reader is able to understand: 'The blue, red, yellow bulbs echo, and spread to red trees and faraway evergreens'. Something along those lines)


All in all, I think that this piece is rather confusing. From the title and the last stanza, it is obvious what you are telling us about, but the whole poem seems rather pointless. I mean, the second stanza has nothing to do with fire. I think the symbolism in this poem is a little too vague.
I'm really sorry if this sounds really harsh. I'm just telling you my initial reaction to this piece. I myself live near California and have family there that has had to deal with the wildfires. I think it's a really powerful and emotional subject for a lot of people, and you could really do something with that idea.


*anti-pop





Teach a man to fish, he eats for a day. Don't teach a man to fish, you eat for a day. He's a grown man. Fishing's not that hard.
— Ron Swanson (Parks and Rec)