Letters. Words. Phrases. We spoke them.
We wrote them. We spun them to deliver
expressions. We used them to know each other
when a smile or a scowl was not enough.
That was the beauty of our weapon.
It didn’t leave blood behind. It reminded us
how we were equal to each other when we
had our own voice. It reminded us
how a soul was worth more than a diamond.
It would always have something
to say for us to understand, for us
to know more.
And that was how we hate each other too.
Our words were a flame, but we knew not
to let it burn us. We knew to let them hurt us
just enough to open our eyes until we realized
they can be the sun that kept us warm.
And yet it’s different now.
We sit beside the wall of modernism,
creating weapons that could devolve breathing beings
into dead meats like corpses won by the hunters,
like lifeless prays won by the predators.
We forget we breath, we consume, we die
in every second, every hour, every day.
We wake up to the sun and close our eyes
under the moon. Why do some of us
see others as inferior, too inferior
to deserve more breaths?
Guns. Bombs. Tanks. We create them.
We use them. We manipulate them to deliver
death sentences. We utilize them to stop
knowing each other when a smile or a scowl
would replace their horrible image
(terrorist terrorist terrorist)
we have already accepted in our mind.
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140,590 Literary Works • 673,544 Reviews
Hey there, Eli here for a review from Team Marlins on this beautiful review day!
I am pretty much wasted and so tired so this is going to be my last review for this month's review day, we will see what happens in the end of the day though I will be sleeping by then, hopefully. Anyways, the poetry caught me thanks to the introduction that it will involve us back then and now. You compare how graceful and kind we were to each other and how slowly we became so afraid of one another, trying to stay away from each other, protect ourselves from the one next to us, and maybe just throw a bomb at them and let it end because this is safer.
Surely wars do not happen only from this year, it is a fact that wars exist from the time the human stept on this planet, they will always be some kind of mistunderstandings in between us. Because of culture, language or just simple understandings. Manners, morals, it all can change the topic into something wonderful like the weather talk to argues about something not so specific. Not each fight has a certain reason behind it. Sometimes we fight because we can.
Overall, I love your poems and I am happy to be able to read one of them today! I am not good with poems because I have no idea what to tell but most of them always have that deep meaning on their own that thrills me. And even if this is so realistic and sad, it is still a great read.
Keep on writing!
Hey there Lightsong! I liked your poem and I think it had a really good core message in it! It might just be me, but at some points in the poem I got a bit lost. In 7th stanza it says "We utilize them to stop knowing each other when a smile of a scowl would replace their horrible image..." It wasn't clear to me as to what you were saying. My mind got confused.
. Keep writing!
For the 3rd stanza, I suggest making these small nitpicky edits:
And that was how we hated each other too.
Our words were flames, but we knew not
to let them burn us. We knew to let them hurt us
just enough to open our eyes and make us realize that
they could be the sun that kept us warm.
These edits mainly had to deal with grammar and making the wording clearer.
I only had one real issue with this poem. The wording, at points, was confusing, and I think you might not have gotten your message fully across sometimes. Besides that, I think the poem was cool in concept and language (the figurative language). You did a good job
Hi LightSong! Becca here for a quick review.
I thought this was a unique poem, and I found it interesting that you chose to write about a political topic.
I really liked the line, "We used them to know each other when a smile or a scowl was not enough," in the first stanza because of its specificity.
In the second stanza, I liked "the beauty of our weapon. It didn’t leave blood behind," because of the thought that there are weapons that don't leave blood--how creative.
In the third stanza, I liked, "Our words were a flame, but we knew not to let it burn us," again the metaphorical value, words can burn but they didn't burn us.
In the fourth and fifth stanzas there are two things I wanted to point out. I usually don't comment on spelling but these change the meaning of the poem completely. I think the word "prays" in the fourth stanza should read "preys" and the word "breath" in the first line of the fifth stanza should read "breathe."
Overall, I think this was a great poem. Your speaker clearly has a well defined stance on this issue. I would love to see more imagery/metaphors like the great ones you used in this piece. At times it seemed like there was a bit too much telling/just saying things without showing them. Obviously your call as the author.
Keep writing! Hope to read more of your work!
Thanks for the review! It helps!
I'm glad!