Clock's ticking
I never seem to have enough time on my hands lately. Amusing, really, I could swear I never waste an instant.
Thoughts sail right through the window,
As I sit idly on my prime,
Contemplating the soft rays of the morrow,
And the wind blowing away the ashes of Time.
Oh! There goes another second, another breath I will never get back. Or that I will never take for the matter.
Don't hold your breath
Disappointments and shortcomings seem to have become somewhat of a recurring theme lately. Concerning somewhat, but delving on the matter hardly ever did me any good.
Dreams burn so easily,
Filling the air lazily
Leaving me to put out dull fires
And pick up the scorched embers.
Regardless, forward is the only viable direction I have. Or perhaps I do not even have that one. Go figure...
Words are falling
Strangely enough, I cannot seem to find my words lately. Frustrating, really.
Verses fly by,
Ideas scatter.
But, regardless, ink leaks as I try
And ground words onto concrete paper.
Or perhaps I simply do not want to write. No matter...
What was I thinking of again?
I cannot remember for the life of me. It probably was not all that important...
Thoughts coalesce into monoliths,
Great, ephemeral structure of delusions and myths.
And as mausoleums come tumbling down,
Comes rising a new dawn.
Attention truly is a fickle thing, and something I lack greatly. The funny thing with attention is, you only really -
Focus
Ah yes, focus. I need to focus. There is something important coming. Now, if I could only figure out what...
Shades of scarlet and grey whirl,
Notes float up in the darkness,
As the world comes crashing as it unfurls
Into a solid block of consciousness.
Nope. I cannot seem to focus. A shame really, I do some really good thinking when I manage to focus.
Stop thinking of poetry verses.
Yes, probably not the best time nor place indeed. But what is life without a bit of fun? And I still cannot remember what is so important anyways.
Words flow right through me,
Right from my respiratory system into my bloodstream,
Saturating thoughts and dreams,
To finally pop open in short bursts of glee.
Too bad nobody can tell me what I am forgetting, that would sure be handy.
You could use some more company.
Use some more company? I am not lonely. I appreciate my personal space, thank you very much, we both know how prolonged social exposure irritates us.
People come and go,
Like leaves blown into the flow,
Following the current's reign
And right down the drain.
...Since when did the people around me become so far and few?
You did that, remember?
I might have burnt a few too many bridges. And I might have made too little effort to feign interest in others... And... I might be somewhat hard to put up with.
It is all delusions and lies,
It is all weakness and tremor.
Even the long summer afternoons of games
And the bubbly bunch of kids I am afraid I remember
But it all matters little. Jeder stirbt für sich allein. Everyone must die on his own. That is the truth I have chosen a lifetime ago, might as well avoid questioning it now of all times.
Can you live with yourself?
The choices I made, I made for what I thought was best. I am what I am. I am what I copied from those who made me who I am. And I am also what little I have actually created.
Burnt bridges that will not carry passengers,
Long passed crossroads that will not see any more travelers.
A sorry landscape indeed,
But that is the one I shaped.
And yet I have that bitter aftertaste in my mouth, something that tastes an awful lot like regret.
The die is cast.
Aye, it is. And yet it is not. Life could be so boring if one would not impact his fate, really. Not that it is not anyways... Regardless...
Life runs its course,
A blazing chariot of laugh and cry,
As I watch my time pass me by,
And half-heartedly gather my force.
Oh. Right. I remember now. Admissibility results are due any time now and I have yet to work to hope to get an actually decent school. Welp. That is actually quite the important matter. It is fortunate I did end up remembering, truly.
Get to work.
Not too much I can do now, is there? Oh, I will get to work alright. I am just not gullible enough to believe I will be able to make up for any significant shortcoming.
A looming threat,
A shadow of a doubt,
And suddenly a panic attack.
A terrifying devil on my back.
Seriously though. I will do what I need to. No excuses and no failures allowed this time around.
Not too stressed out?
Well, It not exactly like I have been taught to tolerate weakness.
If I am to lose the head, might as well do so on my own two feet.
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137,652 Literary Works • 672,057 Reviews
Hey there, Pternoha. This review will focus mostly on where you should go from here. This is a strong piece, and I want you to make the best of it.
First of all, like Penguin said, I think this would be best if you changed the formatting, removing the conversational aspect. I'd take out the parts about the exam, and focus on the lines to the left--they often speak of a deeper truth than just exam time. And when the reader tries to engage with the poem, they find it mysteriously and utterly disjointed--just pieces of text next to one another. I really do like some of the lines here, but the formatting makes this a difficult one to read.
Normally, I'd ask a writer to use their metaphors to connect to the outside world--the narrator's life, hopes, dreams, interests... but I think, in this case, the writing speaks for itself. It's weakened by the reality of the narrator's life, and it's strengthened by the words around it. Don't, I hate to say, make connections between these two. It feels strange and forced, and the reader feels awkwardly like they should be thinking more about the narrator's life than about the beautiful writing.
There seems to be a couple of really, truly forced rhymes here. Is there a rhyme scheme? If so, I didn't catch it, because the connected words switched places every time. Sometimes the words simply /sounded alike/, other times they were completely rhymes. It was confusing for me, as a reader, to decide where I was supposed to put the emphasis and where I was not. All of this extra thought took away from the stark beauty of your writing.
How much Walt Whitman do you read? I think you'd enjoy his writing. One of my favorites is When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer (google it or read it here: http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/when ... astronomer). For some reason, a few of your lines sounded like him. That's a compliment, by the way.
Overall, I think this was a piece with a lot of potential. I found a few lines that didn't really /work/, but I want you to think about the functionality of this piece as a whole. I think it'd be helpful.
Don't forget to be awesome,
IronSpark
Hey Pternoha,
This is an interesting piece you have here. The mixture of mediums and structure combine to create something I've not come across before. It seems to be an internal dialogue interspersed with poetry. To be completely frank with you, I'm not sure it works at the moment.
There is a disjointed movement between the internal dialogue and the poetry that makes reading this, as a visual experience, unpleasant. If you had structured the main monologue to the left, interrupting conscious in the centre and poetry on the side, it may have worked a little better. But structurally it is at least interesting.
I don't like the conversational element very much, I feel that your poem could have been much stronger as a poem on its own, as the conversation takes away the focus on those words. The poem becomes secondary to the dialogue and I'm not sure that was your intention at all. Experimental works are sometimes a little touch and go and making sure your audience understands it is almost impossible. It is very possible I'm just missing a purpose or key element that is in there. This wouldn't be your fault at all, but my own lack of contextual experience. Do consider separating them though because I don't think it's adding anything to the poem.
On the poem pieces themselves, they are disjointed by nature of the structure and the way the other text intersperses concepts or ideas gets in the way a bit. The lines are fairly solid but a little cliched in parts. I don't feel that there is a strong connection between them which means flow and rhythm are all out. The lines themselves have fairly uninteresting images that don't push your audiences necessarily at all.
"Burnt bridges do not carry passengers" is my favourite line, it's an excellent excellent line and I wish the rest of your stanzas were to this standard.
Consider looking at your stanzas and trying to fit them together as an actual poem. In this way you can develop an image or concept that moves naturally throughout all of the lines. It will add rhythm and clarity to your lines as well as introduce some more interesting imagery and description. Reconsider any rhyme you have if it isn't in a structured scheme as well. Rhyme is rarely as effective as you think it's going to be.
I'm sorry if this has turned out really negative. I like what you're going for, but I think it needs a lot of work to get to the point of being great. The poem is what you need to focus on the most. Bringing that up to scratch would probably fix most if not all my qualms with your piece.
Thanks for posting
- Penguin.