I envy the melancholy blood that lights a question to kill myself,
a loathsome man of repulsive vision.
My death's striking club will tempt what discontent she swallowed,
but this goddess shalt torment a shadow of night.
We must feel the chase hast a time
where less than a sweet dream murmers love,
and a thousand gifts deceive nothing.
When delicate air is wilting, I'll ever be flying with her,
and beneath the misty spray of water,
my ghosts vow always to flower.
In frantic wait, Woman, don't haste.
Never would we fall here between a forest
to place the knife idle.
There is only your perilous sea to know,
my weakest want,
but my garden woes languidly to
almost sleep of skin.
I shall tell her all through my death,
and all she will write to our every moon is
"Why me, lover?"
There is no good to leave without your heart.
It's all a poisonous farewell.
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125,007 Literary Works • 672,815 Reviews
um, beautiful words but I don't think I understand any of them. It seems like it should be simple considering your title and your ending...but it isn't. Every where you turn it's a different feeling being felt or a different visual. You need to work on slowing everything down a bit and focusing. Where do you want the poem to go and what do you want the readers to feel after reading it? You can't have so many feelings and expect your reader not to be confused as I was. Just focus. It is a very nice border for a poem with potential.
Keep it up!
~Rieda
I'm not sure what you were supposed to mean by this, as some of the words and phrases made no sense and there was nothing to it other than that- just words strung together in a pretty form. It didn't make me feel anything or think anything or envision anything whatsoever...
This seems so fake to me.
You fabricate these feelings, you douse it all with unfitting, overdone vocabulary and needless archaism, and it just makes the whole thing seem hollow.
Maybe you really did feel something when writing this, I don't know. But right now, to me, it's just a wall of big words and line breaks with nothing behind it, no weight to hold it up.
I read "garden woes" as "garden hoes." Something tells me those words were not meant to be together.
I'm not entirely sure what to say of this poem.
to wilt is a beautiful verb, but I really feel it should be left to flowers, or at least to more solid objects, rather than air.It didn't have a specific structure, or scheme of any kind, and what ever you were writing about I couldn't pick out between the words and long phrases. My only suggestion: make me feel. If you are talking about love, I don't feel it. Death? I don't feel it. The death of a loved one? Again, I do not feel it. If I could feel something, perhaps it would be easier for me to understand what you are actually writing about.
I hope this helped, in some way, and that you can perhaps lead me to some form of understanding. Although, a poem that must be explained outside of the verses it is built from doesn't make a worthy poem.