Because my words, if spoken out loud,
will only reveal the veins in your neck
and cajole your fist to knock the dining table,
I pour them down, ink to paper, so that
you can read it every day or rip it apart.
I hate your heavy mockery. Every time
they rolled towards the end of my heart-lane
and knocked over my confidence-pins.
But this was not a game, for every roll
that you made slowly cracked my patience-wall
until exploded, anger-debris flinging to your skin.
But you had never backed down. Your soul
was built open decades of self-rightness,
harsh weathers and youthful immigration.
Your skin is metal, your words are screeches.
You bend someone by heating them until
they are beat-red, painful-hot, then you soak
them into a bucket of water, nodding when you see relief-smoke.
You knock them then. Knock, knock and knock
until their sharp shape reaches your expectation,
until they are complete for your use and display.
I hate the authority-shimmer on your justice-cloak.
A gift from God, you claimed, but you did it only protect.
My argument-knives and advice-water did it fend off
and reflected to my self. We pray five times a week
but do we serve different gods? Are yours approve reign-chains?
I hate my vision of you when I closed my eyes
(a smile and a laugh, outstretched arms, welcoming,
a leader-compass and assuring light; king of the family)
and when I saw you, I looked away and shut my mouth,
a frozen statue, because what I saw was a pair of horns
and a tail that did not belong in this Earth realm.
I do not want to be like you; already, veins appeared
on my writing hands. I packed my existence-clothes
and migrated to knock-free location. Cool weather
and silent atmosphere relaxed my mind of scattered-nerves
and allowed me to complete this honest-letter.
Farewell.
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140,262 Literary Works • 673,077 Reviews
Wow. Um... Wow.
)
I hope this was at least minimally helpful and if not..... oops? Happy writing!
I honest to god tried to come up with something less moronic than just "wow" to describe my initial thoughts on this but that /half an hour/ was spent entirely in vain, so I apologize. Now, on to the review!
I always hate to start reviews off with just reiterating what others have said, but really Casanova put this very well. You start the poem off with some really strong imagery, and as I love to bowl, even as unrelated as this might be, I like it. A lot.
One thing I disagree with Casanova is just that I think maybe he misinterpreted in (or, equally possible, I misinterpreted it just in a positive way xD); With the bending, I was seeing and hearing a comparison to a metal worker, a seed planted by the dad's "metal skin." I saw in my head someone, maybe a blacksmith, working on a piece of metal but with anger and putting that anger towards the thing they're working on, aka the writer. He forces the metal into a shape that is unnatural via methods that can't possibly be pleasant and is only satisfied once the piece is shocked into his idea of perfection. (Disclaimer; I am known to overanalyze things, I am sorry
There's a whole lot more I could say but Casanova really already said everything about the rest of the poem that I was thinking my self, so I think I'm done
Heya, Lightsong! Casanova here for a review!
Alright first off I would like to say I love the message within this poem. You put what you wanted to say, and it worked. I do have a few things about it, however. So let's get to the review!
Anyway, the first thing I noticed was this line-
Now, I /really/ like the bowling alley imagery here, but in the second to last line you say something that doesn't relate to it, and doesn't make sense within that imagery.
How does a rolling of a bowling ball crack a wall? I think it might work to make the imagery here more consistent. Like, maybe pumping the floor? Bumping your heart-lane? It's just a suggestion.
The next thing I noticed was these lines-
The first thing here I noticed was the first two lines. The,"bending," part doesn't make much sense to me. You're talking about breaking someone, not bending. Tearing them down. I remember the expression,"You can bend, but don't you dare break." Which is something I keep close to my heart as well.
The second thing here that I noticed was-
Now, this is making it seem like he's somewhat accepting of your,"relief." But, with the message of the poem overall this doesn't make much sense. Why are you feeling relief from this, and why is he nodding at it? It just doesn't make much sense, at least to me.
The third thing I noticed was in these lines-
The,"knock, knock and knock," repetition dulls it. Repetition is okay in some forms, if used properly. I think if you switched these three,"knocks," to,"knocking," it would feel better, and you wouldn't have said,"knock," four times in one line.
I really like these lines, they're the best out of the poem in my opinion.
Over all, I would say that this could use some tweaking, but you definitely got your message across here. I really do enjoy it.
Keep doing what you're doing and keep on keeping on!
Your friend, Matthew Casanova Aaron.