Published November 10, 2007
The light in front,
Of your eyes,
The force in your,
Hand.
Burn the eyes,
Of the lined,
Tiles.
It's white and creamy,
Like the scorch marks,
In the sky.
Burn the atmosphere,
And hope it turns brown,
The light is white,
And the circles in the street,
Playing tag with me.
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140,854 Literary Works • 673,694 Reviews
I'm not so sure about this. I had to restart several times, because you kept losing me, and this isn't to great. And once I finished I didn't really have a good feel about it. Let me see how I can go deeper into this.
First and foremost it felt choppy. It was difficult to read without sounding like the kind of automated calls my library sends when I have a book overdue. I think you tried to be too ambitious with the spacing and distracted from the poem.
Second and secondmost I wasn't so sure about how your poem progressed. I really didn't get everything after "burn the atmosphere". You regained my attention with "and the circles in the street" but the damage was done.
I would recommend that you rework your spacing and wording. It just isn't compelling enough.