I JUST wrote this. It took like 10 minutes, and I didn't really edit so please feel to pick it apart.
Forgotten Hope:
A dagger pierces, a shout echoes.
Clinging on, yet soon panicked into letting go.
No reason remaining to stay,
like a feather drifting through the atmosphere.
No haven to rest. No welcome to receive.
Desolate without a cause,
a fragment stills its wayward journey.
Masked in deceit, this suffering continues.
Companions exist of inferior beings,
attempting to satisfy this lingering hunger.
Crucial timing consists of finesse,
for bitter mistakes are blessings in disguise.
Consuming you, battles rage in full.
Vital reminders of what once was.
This is another one I wrote recently...a couple days ago. Again, I edited only a little, so pick it to pieces.
Battles of Wills:
Flitting about like a merry butterfly,
Free to twitter, laugh or cry,
Yet truth remains afraid to try,
I feel depression reveal my lie.
In hidden darkness twisted deep,
Unable even to gnash or weep,
This wicked secret cannot reap,
So instead, in cruelty does it keep.
Joy explodes from a sailing mast,
Nearly cut down it prevails to last,
With icy claws it holds me fast,
Till with vengeance shrill I blow it a-blast.
Gleaming grins and smiles a plenty,
Hooks and daggers bitterly sent he,
Then in wavering hatred went he.
Flying as a leaden bird,
Sneering reminders of a frigid word,
I long to land free, to at last be heard.
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139,448 Literary Works • 672,565 Reviews
oh goodness!! I'm freaking out! i love these!!!
they are just over all AMAZING! and i really like the line from the first one "for bitter mistakes are blessings in disguise. " it's so true!
and my favorite is the last one! i personally wouldn't be able to make every line rhyme and you did a beautiful job at that.
the only problem that i can see right off the bat is right here: "With icy claws it holds me captive,"
it doesn't flow with the rest of it. so maybe try and fix that.
anyway. brilliant job keep it up!
~Adeera
Heyy,
i really love this poem, partly because to me it dosen't make sense. i love the way that i have to read it a few times to understand all of the messages. To me it is a poem that is slightly hidden within the words and you have to look closley to see it. i really love this poem, thanks for submitting XxX
Forgotten Hope:
A dagger pierces, a shout echoes.
Clinging on, yet soon panicked into letting go.
I like playing with the disjointed--it can add depth to a piece, but most, it's a tool that tricks and trims perspective, and can jolt the camera through which the reader sees a poem or story. It is also a rather dangerous tool. It can disconnect a piece from its point, or centre. Without a resting point--character or theme--disjointedness becomes the whole, instead of a tool to shade or tone.
In this, you almost seem to have a sort haiku sequence (sans haiku form). Haiku tend to root themselves in presence--the ability to convey a moment in a single image.
But this piece never feels rooted. Even poetry needs form--doesn't ditch grammar utterly, or it tends to ditch meaning. And the endlessly fragmented sentences, meterless, leave me without a focal point.
Who has no reason to stay?
Why full-stops, and fragments for the last line? Again though, this is your entry--but the words don't even convey an image. The action is done to something/one--rather passive--and there isn't even a one or thing seen.
Whose deceit? Why masked? Er, how does it connect to suffering continuing? And if I don't know whose or what suffering, what even is suffering? Suffering is only something inasmuch as it is tied to a creature that suffers.
Ah, a bit more concrete, da? You've got companions, and inferior beings. Still, it comes in a stanza near the end, as if the poem were turned top-to-bottom. This leaves me curious, at least.
Oy, but this last bit comes out as a double maxim; warning; proverb. Again: who? What once was?
Disjointedness through fragments, fragmentary imagery, and unrhymed form are bloody brilliant when used to convey consciousness--they can be the voice of a poem, the voice of a character. But they aren't the body. In this, the disconnect seems to end up substitute for a body; and while the ideas or feelings make up what could be formed into a poem, at the moment, they're simply that--bits, pieces; disjointed.
I would read through it, and ask myself who? and why? for every fragment. Perhaps try using a meter too, da? At the moment, 'tis suffering writ large, and confusion.
IMP
I definately liked your first more than your second; the second just seems to be lacking a little, and I think the problem is because of the rhyme scheme you're bound to, as it feels a little weak. To be honest, I didn't like the second from the first line because it feels old-fashioned and underwhelming. Your first one's a pretty good poem though, and I don't have any real complaints about it.
Keep writing,
StoryWeaver
A dagger pierces, a shout echoes.
Clinging on, yet soon panicked into letting go.
No reason remaining to stay,
like a feather drifting threw through the atmosphere.
No haven to rest. No welcome to receive.
Desolate without a cause,
a fragment stills its wayward journey.
Masked in deceit, this suffering continues.
Companions exist of inferior beings,
attempting to satisfy this lingering hunger.
Crucial timing consists of finesse,
for bitter mistakes are blessings in disguise.
Consuming you, battles rage in full.
Vital reminders of what once was.
~~~
Flitting about like a merry butterfly,
Free to twitter, laugh or cry,
Yet truth remains afraid to try,
I feel depression reveal my lie.
In hidden darkness twisted deep,
Unable even to gnash or weep,
This wicked secret cannot reap,
So instead, in cruelty does it keep.
Joy explodes from a sailing mast,
Nearly cut down it prevails to last,
With icy claws it holds me captive,Doesn't rhyme, so doesn't really follow the pattern
Till with vengeance shrill I blow it a-blast.
Gleaming grins and smiles a plenty,
Hooks and daggers bitterly sent he,
Then in wavering hatred went he.
Flying as a leaden bird,
Sneering reminders of a frigid word,
I long to land free, to at last be heard.