A/N: Will quite possibly upload a recording later. Very rough. Very vague. Please review~
--
i turned seventeen last year
seventeen was scary. it was being entrenched in hourglasses and locking my room to dance to the night and imagining all sorts of fantastic things.
it was snow white's little glass coffin of little glass hope,
it was rose-tinted eyes and the realisation that the world was not--is not--is not ever
going to be that consecrated wonderland
in my head.
the Cheshire cat is not the prime minister in disguise; the prime minister
is not the Cheshire cat
in disguise.
the cheshire cat doesn't exist.
but i was a miracle of false-consciousness, all decomposing sentences and frigidity. i was cold eyes and eyes filled with hope and eyes that turned away; i was blindsight.
and i was happy--
clinging to my childhood with firm hands, slipping down a mast on a sailship, ignoring the splinters it gave me.
because seventeen was a mystery. popped up on my doorstep one humid night, sweat trickling down its face, dressed in a cloak despite the thirty-five degree heat;
he wore a mask.
he lied to my face, i let him in the house, i let him tell me that there
'is so much you can do, and so much you can be, and the world
is a beautiful waterfall. place your hand against its spine, feel the rush of cold, cold--
cold accomplishment, on your cheek.'
he didn't tell me that that cold feeling was dismay.
now eighteen, eighteen is cynical. it's letting go of the mast. it's learning
that the clouds are not lumps of vanilla-flavoured ice cream, it's learning
that guns don't just exist in cartoons, it's learning that the darkness under the bed is not a monster. and the darkness between my scrunched up fists is not a shadow.
the darkness is me, a beast that drives its talons down my spine and forgets to brake.
eighteen is seeing the sun again, my vantage point
is a shadow; i've realised that shadows are pretty cool places. eighteen knows now,
that the clouds have always been made of razor-sharp words--they will strip away at your skin and leave nothing but raw flesh for you to write with. the world
rips away at you. and eighteen
is knowing that that's okay.
fumble in the darkness, because it holds a box of bandages.
fumble in the darkness, because when the razors strip away at the curtains, you will see the sun.
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125,005 Literary Works • 672,798 Reviews
This hits me right in the "I DON'T WANT TO TURN 18 NEXT YEAR" gland ;-;
very nice.
since the only thing I really do anymore is poetry, I'm taking yours seriously.
You have a knack for imagery and you flow your sentences well. I love how, despite the confusion of different pictures and emotions throughout the poem, your main theme stays prominent.
While this and a lot of your poems are great theme wise and image wise, I think you need some work on two things.
1. A lot of younger poets (yes this is hypocritical of me, but it is true) tend to exaggerate a lot when it comes to imagery. Every single sentence has to be a flourish of words tangled together in the hopes that they convey a mood. While you don't go completely overboard with your imagery, you do use to many words to convey a single mood. This may only be my opinion, but I think its something you could work on.
2. I actually don't have much of a problem with this, but other people might. While your imagery is great, its confusing. Having read other poems of yours, I don't think you do this a lot, but its a good tip anyway. You need to keep your imagery consistent, I would love love love this poem if it was less confused. A consistent theme and consistent imagery basically make a poem, then you just need to make sure your writing about something worthwhile.
aaaaaanywho, that's my two cents
Pomp,
This was interesting. You are right that it is rough, but I think it is a good start.
I am going to ignore the formatting, because this is spoken word and it's not meant to be read.
You say that it is very vague, but I think that is good. It seems you and I both found 17 to be a rough year, but we probably have different reasons for that. Your vagueness allows me to relate to you, whereas specific details might not relate to me.
While I like this piece, I do think there are things that need work.
The first stanza is confusing to me...In particular, I am confused how
"locking my room to dance to the night and imagining all sorts of fantastic things" is scary.
Furthermore, having "rose-tinted eyes" is the opposite of realizing the world "is not ever going to be" wonderland. Rose-tinted eyes implies that you think everything is rosy good.
Perhaps, instead, you want to start with what being sixteen was like. When you were sixteen, you danced to the night, imagined all sorts of fantastic things, and had rose-tinted eyes.
Then, you turned seventeen, and found life scary and that it wasn't a wonderland. Finally, you turned eighteen.
Later, you say:
Were you happy? It doesn't sound that way to me. It sounds to me like 17 was a time when you started to find out about the harsh reality of life.
The section on seventeen being a mystery, a man showing up on your doorstep is really beautiful description. I don't think that section needs to be changed.
The stanzas on 18 are interesting because it seems 18 is both dark and light. 18 seems to be a time where you were further immersed in the harshness of life but where you also realized how to deal with it. I think that's what you are going for and, if so, it doesn't really need changes either.
I'm not sure that I like the ending. I think it'd be better without the last two lines. End with "Eighteen is knowing that that's okay."
Additionally, I think you should change the title. "Turning Seventeen" implies that the piece is about turning seventeen. Instead, it seems to be about the difference between age 17 and 18. It seems to be about turning into an adult, more than turning seventeen.
As I said earlier, there are many parts of this that I like. I think you use nice, descriptive language to tell your story. However, I think at times that language can be confusing. I liked that it was vague but I also want it to be more clear. I want to know whether 17 really was a scary or whether you were happy, because you say both. And it's certainly possible you were both at different times. Just make that clear to your reader or listener.
Why that cliche ending to an otherwise wonderful, wonderful piece of work? I wanted a fist-and-teeth clenching conclusion because I enjoyed the rest of it!
I don't want the sun, I want the narrator to dive headfirst into a tornado and stuffs.
i didn't know how to end this. XD i have two alternate endings but both of them seemed to 'linger' so i cut both of them out.
Hi Pomp jessiebear here to do a shirt review on your work.
I hope what I say will help you with your writing.
Wow this poem is fantastic. And the title is what brat me to read your poem so that is very good.
Okay but I do have a little bit of things to say about your poem.
So lets big in with the review.
First of I think you should bout this sentences to gather
( the Cheshire cat is not the prime minister in disguise; the prime minister
is not the Cheshire cat
in disguise.)
(the world
rips away at you. and eighteen
is knowing that that's okay.)
(the Cheshire cat is not the prime minister in disguise; the prime minister
is not the Cheshire cat
in disguise.)
And they should all start with a capital letter. And you are missing some capital letters in this poem here and there.
But this poem dose sound like it is what a teen anger is thinking all the time. So it dose sound real so good job.
So any way I loved the poem ether whey so fantastic and grate job. And I hope you will keep on weighting because I am looking for word to reading more of your work. And I hope you will let me now when you have posted another poem so I can review it are say what I liked about it for you. And I hope you will keep up the good work.
Any way I hope you have a fantastic day are night.
From jessiebear.