This is my second poem. In comparison to my first poem, this poem has much more description and length. However, I merely wrote this today. I edited very little, but if I do receive good and contructive (postive or negative) criticism I will expand this poem and showcase it at a later date.
To Be Friend and Foe
BY Adrian
I stand here waiting by the ocean’s edge.
The salty breeze washes over my face.
Sometimes, I wonder if anyone can hear my thoughts.
The gasping shriek bounces off my skull.
Why hasn’t anyone acknowledged its cry for help?
The ocean draws near. Perhaps I should leave.
I could walk back to my foreign car no doubt amassed by some sorry soul.
Or, I could wait. I wait an awful lot.
My body is numb but my troubles are flourishing.
My mind buzzes over bank statements, bills, and bounced checks.
The sun is finally creeping out with her splendid face. Funny isn’t it?
How the sun always comes out. Neither tempest nor tragedy seems to get in her way.
But her friend prods the old dame along. Toothless and shriveled, she leaves the night to the gorged and glowing. Yet always arrives promptly at three waiting for foe to leave.
The sun has almost risen and the tide is to my toes.
And all at once they both embrace me.
One warms my cheek and the other chills my feet.
Sensational static surfs my spine.
The moment I had been waiting for.
The impending is ambiguous as always. And I am tenuous as usual. But for now,
my children are snug in their beds and full in their tummies. The morning is brimming so
I climb in the tub for another second in solitude to prepare for the puppies.
I wash the dreams out of my hair and scrub the fantasy off my skin.
I dress in clad iron thread (the garb of the days) for a war against evils warding the air.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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Hey there
Firstly, this is an interesting piece of writing. However, it is not really a poem. It's more like prose. There is too little structure or metre for me to accept it as a poem. This is my opinion only and you don't have to agree with anything that I write.
You did produce some lovely imagery, this shows that you can write creatively at least.
OK! So lets get down to the task at hand.
Oh! I shan't be correcting any grammatical or punctuation errors, as they aren't all that important. I will be critiquing the poem itself.
This opening is too weak for several reasons. The sentence structure is too mundane, and it isn't always wise to be so blunt in poetry (prose). It tends to ruin the reader's enjoyment - unless your writing is trying to make a point.
Cliché, what more need I say? (ooo a rhyme
I love the juxtaposition of ideas in this line. The concept of "troubles" "flourishing" has an interesting dynamic. Indeed the dichotomy between "numb" and "flourishing" is also interesting, because numbness denotes; cold, still, dead. While if something flourishes then it bounds with life and joy...hmmm...Very nice line. I do hope that it was intentional
This is a very clumsy sentence. Try splitting up your ideas... Even replacing "and" for `while' would make a world of difference.
Beautiful...
Adrian,
Wow...all I can say is "WOW"
That is probably the best poem I've read on this site! I had to read it twice, it's so good.
I absolutely loved it
I loved that line...
You created such exquisite imagery in my mind, it blew me away. I truly love this poem.
I envy your talent to create such feeling. Your words painted a picture in my mind that sang to me.
Great job!
-thevoiceinside
This makes little sense.. what is actually being amassed? Are you sure you have the right word you wanted here?
The use of "tummies" here deracts from th poem. It is too childish for the moment.
I enjoyed this imagery immensely.
The aside - in brackets - detracts from the line and looks odd.
I agree with Amelia that this seems more for prose than it does poetry. I would suggest attempting that. It is, however, an okay poem. I like your subject matter and enjoy the imagery. I think you need to look at condensing it also. It seem you have too much in the little poem. Take some of it out and let it breathe.
Good work, keep it up.
*Hearts* Le Penguin.
This seemed more like prose with line breaks("The sun is finally creeping out with her splendid face.Funny isn’t it?/ How the sun always comes out." and "The ocean draws near. Perhaps I should leave." especially) than poetry. Chances for metaphor ("Sometimes, I wonder if anyone can hear my thoughts.") are passed by.
This is an example of something that could be expanded. It's another second of solitude, but what greater impact does that have on the world within this poem?
I say, when in doubt, condense it. See which words you really need ^_^