Published January 26, 2010
If the world is my oyster
you were the pearl.
Two cogs in motion, we walked the empty streets
laden with blankets of snow
and savoured the beautiful isolation.
Like timid dormice your hands retreated into their sleeves
away from winters chill bite as I sucked the last dregs of life
from my cigarette, your disapproval conveyed in wide eyes and toothy half-smile
as the pasty faced men looked on with empty black stares.
.
Yet you unravelled my tapestry of happiness
and sent the threads spooling into the frozen winds.
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"Like timid dormice your hands retreated into their sleevesaway from winters chill bite as I sucked the last dregs of life"
That was my favorite line!!!
Although, dreamy was right, you do have a couple of run-ons like,
"...from my cigarette, your disapproval conveyed in wide eyes and toothy half-smileas the pasty faced men looked on with empty black stares. " because it continues on the nest line right after "my favorite line!!" :]
That's all I noticed. Oh, and grammar check, don't forget.
I think that poem is really awesome. The last two lines really tie it up and that was good to do.
Keep writing!
~Skyy.
They are.
Chicken Fries? Those sound good.
Sorry. I get off-track easily.
Nice poem! It was pretty, I liked you imagery and metaphores. You need to work on your sentences, though. You had lots of run-ons.
Nice work, though, overall, and welcome to YWS!
--Dreamy
Hi, there, Halcyon. Welcome to YWS, too.
So, I think this has some good parts (which Imp mentioned above), but you really don't put them together. There seems to be no reason, there is no rhyme, and I didn't feel any emotion for you. I'm like 'oh, too bad.', but only because you didn't gain up our sympathy (us readers) by explaining your devastation, the heartbreak, and such. You didn't use emotions, really. You did use descriptive words...but they felt like the wrong ones, somehow.
Well. That's all I have time for. I'm off to devour some chicken fries
Tata,
Mizz
Hullo Halcyon!
There are bits -- like strands of the mentioned tapestry -- I rather like in this. Hands like doormice. Sucking life out of a cigarette (oy, apt in balance against what sucking on a cigarette tends to bring).
Yet none of it weaves together; nor, as it isn't woven, does it unravel.
Re-form it with a meter, I'd suggest. Let the meter unwind by the end and so as to reflect the, er, denouement. Perhaps even choose more frugally what similes, what image[s] you want to show. They clatter over each other right now, like a pianist rushing through the Fur Elise until you can't quite hear the melody, just the jangled dash for the next note. ^_^
As it is, it comes across run-on, prosaic. The images are disconnected from the final stanza, and as such, disconnect from the point.
All the same, it has got things I'd like to see unravelled. ^_^
PM me if you'd like. ^_^
IMP