i had a strange dream last night, and it frightened me. skulls, dark figures digging up graves, poetry, some semblance of orderdisorder and flightiness. i remember
wood-nymphs and the wind when it laughed. i remember
faces and faces and drowning and breathing and blood. suns that sink
beneath marshy surfaces
and moons that are blue but never full.
breathing. breathing.
[Your diaphragm arches upwards when you exhale.]
distracting myself is a routinal task, an act that's been tattooed all along my wrists,
cuts engraved so deep that my blood's run dry. no matter how hard i try to rub the wounds away,
they burn raw and red, and brighter than before.
but until night comes, i will try
to stitch my flesh together with the sunrays that water my daffodils.
i am not a thief. this is not thievery.
my roses are withering in on themselves, rolling up like dusty, red carpets.
i avert my eyes.
breathing. breathing.
[Your sternum moves upwards when you inhale.]
i'll count the blazing dunes that slap against the patio; i'll whip up magic words
and i'll whisper to the night. i don't know if it'll help, stringing fire lanterns from my windowsill,
because the shadows still arrive, to slice my wounds
open again.
i dream of chaos and lightlessness and strange words that weigh the air
with menacing undertones, green ivy climbing up my face,
not even slipping as my eyes sweat free.
my eyes--my eyes--they sweat free.
when the wind knocks at my door, i am a frieze;
she knows this and it amuses her--
her fingers patter over my cheekbones; i close my eyes so she will not see my soul.
but she prises my eyelids apart, and steals it away.
she is not a thief. this is not thievery.
my eyelashes fall into blankness, sclerotic membrane gathers dust.
don't look at your reflection. i avert my eyes.
breathing. breathing.
[Your alveolar walls are a disarray.]
the darkness lets my skin bleed
all its sorrows away; nightmares numb disease.
but when tomorrow comes,
i will gather sunrays.
i will stitch myself together again.
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,734 Reviews
Am I the only one who finds it slightly humorous that, in the description, you say, "rip this part" and the poem is called "i will stitch myself together again"?
So, as much as you have going on here, I still managed to pick out some parts that didn't exactly sound right, and also a lot of things that I just loved.
Your wording was magnificent, and the way you interpreted this persons POV, it just amazed me.
So, actually, I kind of lied; for I don't really see anything that's wrong, just the fact that your I's should be capitalized, for that's just the way grammar works. I had my sister look at a part that I didn't quite understand, and after she explained it to me, I understood what you were doing.
So, I guess I'll just point out what I REALLY liked about this:
"i remember
faces and faces and drowning and breathing and blood. suns that sink
beneath marshy surfaces
and moons that are blue but never full."
(Might I add, I especially enjoyed the ending parts to each verses, how you were talking about what was happening to the person, and their body.)
"i don't know if it'll help, stringing fire lanterns from my windowsill,
because the shadows still arrive, to slice my wounds
open again."
(I really liked how you used shadows, it just really worked with what you were going for.)
"her fingers patter over my cheekbones; i close my eyes so she will not see my soul.
but she prises my eyelids apart, and steals it away.
she is not a thief. this is not thievery."
(It was the use of the wind, and referring to it as a woman. I really just loved how you did this part.)
"but when tomorrow comes,
i will gather sunrays.
i will stitch myself together again."
The last part alone was enough to fill me with joy, for it just completely tied everything together.
All together, great poem. I enjoyed reading this, so thank you for sharing!
Waiting to see more from you!
~Shiny
The lowercase was intentional. ^_^ It's a stylistic choice.
Thanks for the review!
That's what I said to my sister when I wrote a poem with all lowercase! But she kept nitpicking, and telling me that I NEEDED to put the I's in uppercase form.
But I do completely understand your way of doing things, and I respect it fully!
Yes! i agree completely, everyone always tells me to make my poem uppercase, but i really like how it looks when it isn't.
Yes! i agree completely, everyone always tells me to make my poem uppercase, but i really like how it looks when it isn't.
Yes! i agree completely, everyone always tells me to make my poem uppercase, but i really like how it looks when it isn't.
I loved how descriptive this (poem?) was. If somebody read it to me aloud, I'd be able to picture the scene in my mind. The meaning was exceptional and strong and really brought out the poem.
I've been told before that if your doing a poem and you're not using grammar, it's just very... hard to do. It'd probably help the story flow better. It seems that is your style of writing though; honestly you could keep it that way, it's just a suggestion.
breathing. breathing.
This seems kind of weird to have it separated-but to be honest, I have no idea how it could be revised. I think it'd flow better if you put it in italics and separated with a comma or something like that, or you could just have the one word breathing there. It's just a small nitpick, you could also keep it the way it already is, it's up to you.
my eyes--my eyes--they sweat free.
I was very confused when I first read this, and I still am. Is the person who is "speaking" eyes sweating? o_o (I laughed a little.. lol)
open again.
I noticed that you put this on a complete other line even though the line above it still had room. Once again, this is just a small thing that bothers me, you could leave it the same.
"alveolar"
This word seems very descriptive, whatever it is, since I've never heard it before. I'm assuming this is a color of some sort? I just wanted to point it out.. (no idea why.. lol)
Awesome job, and keep writing! (I really mean it, not like the people who say it just to be nice.)