i can count the times i've broken things on accident on my fingers. every single one of them hides behind my eyes--i think you can see them, even if you don't ask. so i tell you about every time i took a breath trying to utter things i didn't really understand. you don't say anything, but i can tell you think i'm broken. i don't know how to fix that.
i broke a church window once. i threw a rock through the sapphire pane, watched it explode into little pieces. the cutouts of humans inside jumped back and they looked, as though their sins could leak out to haunt the air. i ran from the scene that time, my laugh delicious like candy apples. there were only rocks in my pocket and they didn't weigh me down at all.
i'm telling you this so you will know why there are pieces missing from my brain puzzle.
windows can be broken easily, like trust across bedsheets. i remember watching the way her mouth moved when she screamed your i love you doesn't count, you can't say them, screamed you can only write. the shards wrote on the flowery bed spread that i didn't count and her words echoed in my head and ricocheted off my eyelashes. i left because i didn't know how to glue glass or hearts back together. she weighed my pockets down with voices and when they were full stuck some under my tongue.
i know you don't see me as a violent person, but i punched someone once. his nose broke with a snap and i heard one of my strings inside my heart break too. i didn't know what to do. i learned that night that running is an easier concept when you're running too somewhere. only the hate that preceded me paved the road. it illuminated every step, urging me to come. so i did.
i kept myself together, learned how to tape glass over holes to keep the ghouls out. she praised me for my struggle and tapped me on the shoulder when i did something she didn't like. it was easy, for awhile. then the winter storm came upon us and the snow raged until i was smothered under piles of promises i watched her break.
i didn't mean too, but i broke glass anyway. the blood fell shining onto your pavement when she kicked me out. before she could clean it, ravens had swooped down to pick up every last drop. i fell apart in her yard, watching her call the police.
after that they locked me in a room with no windows, so i broke the window in my head. i made sure every piece of jigsaw was hidden inside my ribs so no one could dig it out of me. so now you know why when you go looking for other slivers, you only find ones that don't fit. 'i hid them and i don't know if i want to find them again.
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Girl. This is a good poem.
. But seriously babe, it's a great poem. I like the repetition of glass shards and that the mysterious "she" could be anyone (a few people came to mind hmmm).
I don't really feel I'm fit to review that much because a) I'm literally falling asleep at my keyboard (not because of this, I'm just really tired) and b) from other reviews, you seem like you've edited most of what is needed.
All I see are little, itty-bitty grammatical squiggles:
- End of stanza five, the fragmented sentence doesn't really work with it, at least in my opinion. It chops up the flow a bit.
- Line 24, wrong form of "to".
- In the very last stanza, you kinda switch from "her", which is present throughout all of the poem, to "you". It introduces a new character to the reader at a funny place.
ANYWAY, that's all I really saw, since it seems you edited most before. These are just tiny nitpicks to really finish off your polish
Keep it up, love.
Well, this is a good story. I like the concept, but you should use caps and proper punctuation. Also, it could use more descriptiveness. You don't tell us who 'she' is, or explain what happened to drive this person over the edge. Please work on this, because I know you could make it better.
♥ Sizzle. Let's jam.
This needs to transform a bunch. I'm going to start with the tedium created by
the first time
the second time
the third time
the fourth time
the fifth time
and continue from there; however, note that this change will completely alter your flow and make this piece much less linear, which is a good thing.
First off, let's address the layers of poetic voice that connect and separate the reader. From a technical standpoint that I believe you subscribe to:
1. the removal of caps detaches the narrator, creating a sustained note of melancholy deconstruction in generic reading patterns;
2. the removal of line breaks creates the necessity that your poetic voice and narration be active and fluid, and that your momentum does not die midstream;
3. the structure of linear narration notes to the reader I will read this part, and then the second, all the way to the fifth where there will be the resolution which instigates tedium when the flow isn't quite there;
4. the specification of past-tense allows for passive voice, which slows the momentum and bogs down the reader's ability to connect instantly--this is not to say that all past tense is bad in poetry because that's not the case, but rather that this concept, in addition to 1-3 makes for a bad situation.
With that in mind, I'd like to see this changed to present tense. That causes a problem, doesn't it? You can no longer say the firstsecondthirdfourthfifth time. This is a good thing. In one edit, you will remove the distance of the past as well as the tedium of a linear approach. For example, stanza five will be more like:
Note that that is also with the modification of my own personal phrasing choice. You have your own voice.
The commitment to this format in other stanzas allows you to remove unnecessary text that bogs down your flow: (i.e. it was, and all, lots of removals of and). I'm uncertain about the inclusion of a friends' list because techno terms in poetry just feel so weird. It also comes in conjunction to religious imagery, so it doesn't particularly fit.
You need to take a serious look at your and addiction. There's nothing wrong with a full-stop here and there. There's nothing wrong with a fragment, a loose phrase, a piece that may not fly in typical grammatical structure. You've already taken licensing with your caps; feel free to try your grammar as well. Just be aware that it can get on a nerve here and there when a person really believes in conventional mechanics. Reinvent the wheel and make it fly, though, because you're capable of it.
Your secondary characters are very unimportant. I feel no connection to them through the narrator, nor the you. They need to carry some weight, or else they don't have a place. In stanza three, I'd like to see the path of hate personified. It's the root of a really good image (imagine along the lines of the way Elsa ran over the water/whatever and froze it, essentially running on her fear and hatred, etc.). I want more of your secondary characters and what evils they committed to the you. I think if you follow my restructuring plan above, you'll find you have room in the tides for more flesh.
I think that should suffice for round one. We can take this to a pad if you want.
They put him in a room with no windows to break, I think that was more dangerous. I love this poem because it tells a bit more of a story, or at least hints at it. Plus it has good details but leaves room for descriptions. Why was he living in tree houses, and couldn't he have just left instead of jumping out the window?
You wrote poetry. Beautiful.
This is fantastic!
I feel as if I can't review it however, 1) because it's so good, and 2) because I'm not used to reviewing this sort of poetry.
But, seriously it is excellent.
I loved the way you described the different times he broke a window and you explain why so beautiful. You also have some gorgeous imagery in there too, so great job!