every night that I spend picking at the stars
with chopstick-fingers, I wonder
what kind of glue God used to stick them up so high,
to a crepe paper surface--rich dark blue;
and gargoyles peer down on our houses
of sandpaper, our little echo-world
where the streetlights blink frantically;
they shall never be stars.
gargoyles grounded to the surface
in the park; I see them through my window.
water gushes from their mouths
like the words they wish to speak, but can't, for fear
that they'll offend the world if they do.
and silence falls upon them every night when the caretaker
shuts the gates and leaves cigarette stumps spelling
incoherent words in his wake. stone eyes
see sightless things, gurgling words never meant to be understood.
but only God knows when the gargoyles in the sky
shall choose to salivate their sorrows away.
the words I scratch against paper are black bars,
sometimes fleeting streams of darkness coursing through a light
that is blankness and nothing more.
streams of darkness, mouthfuls of rainwater I dare not swallow down.
palms cupping sweat like lakes of war-washed soldiers, fingers scraping against...
...breath fogging up...
...seeing straight through glass.
I am made of
Ceilings that feel like raw bones, as if my bookcase is a body without a soul. my bones feel stiff against my own flesh, heart gaping up my spine as if it wants to see outside, too.
my fingers pick hesitantly against the night sky. I am wondering if God
lets people turn into galaxies in heaven.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,734 Reviews
Poooomp!
Beautiful poem as always. I can’t get enough of your beautiful words and masterful symbols and delicious imagery.
This poem seemed to jump around a bit though, and I got thoroughly confused in the middle.
In the first line, “that” seemed a little awkward. The first three times I read it, I completely missed it, so I was confused right off the bat. Maybe that’s just me though. I might perhaps suggest putting it as “when I pick… fingers every night, …” But of course you don’t have to.
When I read “crepe paper surface-- rich dark blue;” I thought “yeah yeah… where’s the period?” I sort of ran out of mental breath. I suggest that you make the first stanza at least two sentences, and that you also prioritize details. Is it really important that we know what color the night sky is? I mean, I love that detail, but the more details you have in a sentence, the more circuitous and confusing it can be for the reader to get everything straight and in the right order.
I’d love to see an expansion on why the houses are made of sand paper. As it is, though, I don’t really get the metaphor. I feel like it should be a metaphor, and not just imagery like normal. It just has that feel. I can conjecture the metaphor and say that the houses are rough, or they’re poorly built, or they’re flimsy… but maybe that’s not it. Maybe they make people smooth and pleasant like sandpaper, or maybe it’s something else. I just really liked the places that that idea could go, and I was sad to see no more of it.
“echo-world” This reads a little cliché, and again, I have to implore you to prioritize your details. It’s something I’ve never really demanded of you in the past, but I think it will make your poetry more concise. Or maybe it’ll ruin your beautiful style that I love so much. It’s something worth experimenting with at least. But do you really need this in here? Other than adding to the tone, what does it do?
“Blink frantically” With the word “frantically,” I think of some little kid playing with the lightswitch: on off on off onoffonoffonoffonoffonoff! How many streetlights do you know that actually do that. I know one or two that flicker every now and then, and I know several that buzz, but most of the streetlights I know are just steady and silent. It’s okay to have those rarer types, but I think “blink frantically” is the wrong image.
“they shall never be the stars” beautiful <3
“gargoyles grounded to the surface” So I’m wondering what surface this is. I can guess that it’s some surface in the fountain, but “surface” just feels incredibly vague. Actually, probably what you mean is “grounded to the surface of the earth.” But that is not what I was thinking about when I read that.
“they’ll offend the world if they do.” So I love the line before this. I do not love this line. Gargoyles (despite them being sad according to “The Farthest Away Mountain”) do not look like they’re afraid of much. And… I don’t know, I feel like they’re especially not afraid of offending people. I mean, look how classically ugly people make them. I think if you just ended the sentence with “but can’t.” it would be much better.
“and silence falls upon them every night” this makes it sound like they stop spewing water… but later, it says “gurgling” as if they’re still going, and earlier it said “I see them through my window. Water gushes…” which makes it sound like they go through the night. Minor discrepancy, but it still bothered me.
“cigarette stumps spelling” Ooh I like the alliteration! But that’s not why I pulled this. I’m just wondering how they spell. Like, are there a whole bunch of them littering the ground, and that’s how they spell things, or is it the smoke from it being a fresh butt that wafts into the air creating fancy letters?
I don’t get that part about the gargoyles in the sky… And salivating. I’m trying to make guesses at what it might mean, but all my guesses sound so literal and… not right.
The next stanza makes very very very little sense to me. The words are still beautiful, but I don’t understand what is going on. It feels like the climax of a mental breakdown or something. I really like the fourth and fifth lines, as well as the very last one, imagery-wise. I just had to tell you that so you don’t just delete them into oblivion (if you were thinking of scratching this stanza anyway, which you probs weren’t). I kind of wished that this was a stanza used to tie the thing with the stars in with the gargoyles. I’m still not really seeing the connections between all of these things, and when the poem ends, I feel unfinished.
But your words are so beautiful I can’t help but feel happy that I read this. You have a way of making everything sound beautiful. <3
I hope that this helped.
Great job as always, keep writing!
~fortis
<# thank you for this, fort. Now I think I'll get my lazy butt to work and review your TLMSC novel. XD Unless you'd like something else reviewed?
It's either that or my truckload of iffy poetry.
You can join the whole small band of followers my novel has and you can like throw parties together or something. XD
But nah, you don't have to if you don't want~
I need all the help I can get though tbhOf parties I greatly approve. XD
I've started with the review on Wooly and warning: I ramble.Woah. That's all I can say. You are so amazing, you have a true talent. This piece was phenomenal! I love how while I was reading it, I began to see it in my mind. You paint a picture with your words and I love it! It flows ever so greatly. My favorite line would have to be "the words I scratch against paper are black bars". It gave me chills to read that line, all of it to be exact. This poem is all around amazing. The only complaint I have is that your great, too good. Mind passing some of your talent this way? Keep writing doll(:
Not many people have the imagination to write something as elaborate special and unique as this. I found the third really cute and enjoyable and cute. The fact that you put words down and they come out as a picture and some thing to figure out like puzzle. Figuring out the meaning to words that are written on poems are always a fun experience- for example "...as if my bookcase is a body with out a soul." is something to be praised for. It reminds me of a quote that I was once told "When a old man dies a library burns down." Just some random tips: Because you and you only are the author who know what your story means and how you know meanings if things that the readers don't mean that it is important to keep the viewers in the loop just enough took keep them reading. Also pacing is key so that you readers can make sense of your story and follow along and appreciate your works better. Enough of my rambling-Well done! And do keep on writing!
Stuff poetry!!
I hate how it is damn good, and this is a perfect example.
How can s story ever get in literary spotlight when there are things like this. Give us a break, stop making perfect pieces!!
down with poetry, their to good!
Haha great job here, that was something special, really special!
Jack
oh my dear
the first three lines alone made me love this <3
Hey,
This was a really interesting poem every time I read through it. I think you have a really nice concept here combining both religion and space. While it can be a very dangerous thing to do, I think you handled it quite well. Now for my nitpicks:
(E)every night that
(G)gargoyles grounded
(W)water gushes
(A)and silence
(S)stone eyes
(T)the words I
(S)streams of darkness
You know what, I think you get the point. This is a really well written poem but, it needs some editing with the capitalization and maybe even some punctuation. I feel like if you took a couple minutes to fix these small things your poem would be improved quite a bit. Which really would be impressive because it is already an amazing poem. I hope you keep writing!
Sincerely,
Collideascope
Capitalization isn't a requirement in poetry.
You did amazing!
This is amazing I love it! Keep writing!
This poem is written very nicely.I like the region aspect of it.It flows very nicely.I like the relaxing rhythm of it.It is a tad hard to follow.That can be fixed very easily through.I didn't see many grammar mistakes in it.I like the overall essence of it.It's a very intriguing poem.Good luck!!!
Before beginning this review, I'll offer a full disclaimer: I am completely and utterly biased in your favor, just by virtue of the fact that this is a poem about SPACE.
That being said, there could be a bit more thematic unity here. I'm not entirely sure what the gargoyles (wonderfully described as they are) have to do with space, or humanity, or God. There are some hints at a tie-in to the main theme, but nothing much seems to come of it.
It feels like the second paragraph belongs to a different poem entirely, which is to say that, while it's nice, it doesn't really contribute to this particular poem.
In any case, this is a lovely poem that just needs a bit of editing to reach its fantastic potential.
When I saw the title I knew it was going to be yours! It is such pleasure reading your poems <3
Thank you!