Young Writers Society

I did like this poem though I have to agree with the previous comments that the repetition knocked it down a notch.

The paper watched his creator,
Ever-drinking in with dull, dank eyes

“What shall I do?” at last the lifeless parchment asked,
“Can I become your story, be alive?”

“I am weary;
Let me rest.
Go into the world and find someone else
To finish the frame of a fable.

**My favorite bit out of it all. I thought it had really great description and I could imagine it happening. Good job on this.

Keep it up!
~Rieda

Ah, well, I wrote this first draft I wrote when I was half-asleep....I'll re-write it soon and put up the second draft

Oh, darn! The first stanza is my favorite! (Mostly because of the "scratched skeleton" line)

Thank you both, for the critiques ^^

This will be a looooong poem.......

~Sumi

Like Nic said, the repetition kind of shot and killed that stanza.

I've always enjoyed poems that tell stories, but they have to be done in a certain manner for me to enjoy them. I wrote a poem, Sade's Folly, which was a story poem and I enjoyed the heck out of it. It was a mix of actions, feelings, and dialog. This is mostly dialog. And it doesn't go together, there is no rhyme or rhythm, so the lines feel clunky. Reading it, the words went in one ear and out the other [figuratively] so I never really caught on altogether, just in a light manner. I knew what the poem was about.

It was a neat concept, but it just didn't come together in the right way for me to like it. Maybe if you rewrite it, made it less dialog, and gave it emotions. This has no emotions in it. Not everything needs emotion, but emotions are permanently a part of us, shouldn't poetry be that way too? This was just a story, feelingless, in verse form. It was unique, but flat.

I hope what comments I did give to fix it will, in the end, help you to fix it. Best of luck.

Heya, Ink.

This was good, but I wasn't too fond of your first stanza:

The chains of paper spoke,
Voice hollow and without lively echo
“What am I?” it asked, with joyless lips
“What am I?” it asked with eyes of paper void,
“What am I?” it asked, scratched skeleton trembling.