Last Ride

Miral,

I like this -- the beginning was off to a weak footing, but as we progressed beyond the second line, the pull increased where you spun us off into a dance of images that could have reaped in the fruits of the labor, dear. At the end, I felt that you kind of dropped us off a cliff with the self-pity sort of statement-- and I think you need to kill that line, draw a step back from this and continue. You had excellent flow in words, and now I think you need to build on this so that it becomes something much, much more than what it stands at now.

June

Miral--

I think this is a good start to a possible poem. However, it's really not dramatic poetry--it's really just dramatic. There is such a thing as prose poetry, but I'm not even really sure this would fit into it. There is also narrative poetry, but this isn't really that either. It just doesn't fit anywhere!

This can be solved, though. Poetry very rarely has completely sentences. If they are completely, they are definitely not more than five or six words and are almost always split onto multiple lines. Try cleaning this up a bit that way--keep the essential words that you feel you need to get the point across, but ditch the complete lengthy sentences. Add in some stanzas and other poetic punctuation used often such as commas, semicolons, etc. etc. to make it more poetic.

Good luck!
Via

Hiya! Classy here.
My corrections will be in bold. Don't forget to look for the punctuation changes. They are a little bit difficult to see that they are bold.

Miral wrote:She has her head against the wall,
her hands dropped onto the floor as though they were out of power.
Her body nonchalantly put all its weight towards the groundI deleted the 'and.' it was just one big long sentence when you had it.
The bright red Venetian blind illuminates the darkness created by the lack of light.
As pain runs through her body as fast as the speed of light. I don't really like 'light' as the end of two works in a row.
She lifts the joint to her coarse-grained lips of an angel and inhales an abundant amount into her ashed lungs of a smoker. I think you can delete the underlined. I don't really need you to say that she is a smoker to get what you are talking about.
Slowly, she put a little effort into raising her hand to lift the transparent bottle of heavy liquor to her mouth.
Feeling the splash of the toxic substance, a slow adrenaline rush-like vibe crawled down from the tip of her head to the ends of her toes. This line and the one before it make me shiver. Good job!
With no hesitation the bottle dropped immediately with a crash.
Glass pieces scattered across the tiled floor and droplets of blood mixed with the toxic I would suggest finding another word for toxic. I feel like you have said it too much.that was contained in the transparent bottle and as she took her last breath she whispered,
"I was always like this"Ooh, your ending leaves me wondering so much!