Magic Brew

Hey there Jon! June here, and I'm going to review this for you. Firstly, forgive me for taking years to get to this. Terribly sorry, I had deadlines to meet >.< and then I forgot. So! Here we go:

Blackened pots filled,
With a liquid pure and quiet.
A flame erected from a torch,
And everything grew quiet.

Okay! So, I like the beginning you have here. It's actually original, you know? You didn't begin it in a cliche way at all. Good job with that.

However, the "Blackened pots" suggests that this is maybe a witch's vat. If it is, then can the liquid actually be pure? The quietness of it kind of doesn't suit to a witch, you know? It should be like bubbling eerily and all cool.

But, then again, like in Shrek, the fairy godmother made potions and she wasn't evil. So maybe this could be a positive character, ja?

The miserable mistress,
Waited with some hope.
With this be the potion,
Will this bring her love?

Oi! "With this be the potion" is quite a confusing line, dear. Use the simplicity you begin with. Continue it as you go along.

She watched the pot's belly,
It grew red with heat.
She peered into her cauldron,
Looking for what she'd hope to seek.

Last line: Too dragged, too much, too complicated. Simplicity is the way here. And it confuses to.

She's looking, right? So she's seeking anyway. So at the end, why is she hoping to seek? This line needs to go, dear, and replace it with something... snazzier. XD

Only bubbles rose and burst,
The water pure and quiet.
The pot was a raging sea,
And even she could not defy it.

*GASPETH* WHAT!?

Dude. . . sorry for my informality in a critique, but isn't she like, making a potion or a brew here? It shouldn't be water anymore-- and it totally shouldn't be pure. Right?

The water so raging now,
Was poured on the fire.
It sizzled out and smoke was hired,
To the sky that held the one.

I smell repetition. Raging in the previous stanza? Hmm... This is a cool poem you've got going here. It's totally not every day we see a poem about fantasy-like-stuff. But I'm not absolutely sure that raging works here. Can't it be... fuming? Or something else. Angry-like. That says the same thing as raging.

The miserable mistress sat,
She moped and that was that.
She had hoped to see her love once more,
But for that she'd have to wait days more.

This kind of comes off abrupt, dear. You need a transitional stanza. Say more about why she's miserable. Also, the in-line repetition of "that" is a little. . . kind of like (what's the word?) annoying?


It just takes away from the poem, kind of like, spoiling everything. It's like we were leading up to something and then we almost drastically decline.

All you have to do is, give us something else, y'know? Give us something that "wows" us. Impress us.







Impressions:

It was good. I liked the whole fantasy feel about it. I could imagine the setting, like, a dimmed, lonely room with a giant cauldron and a little ol' lady bending over it. Or unless the lady isn't old and crooked like I'm imagining. That's beyond the point. . .


The end! It needed something more! I'm not saying it's a bad thing at all, I just think we needed something more powerful. For now, I imagine this little cloaked lady sitting at a table weeping because her potion failed. This may very well be what it's supposed to be, but, I don't know. It feels kind of empty in some spots that I can't really point out.


On the whole, it was a great poem. We need more fantasy poems. Keep it up, dear, great job!


Loved it!


June