Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language.
THIS IS HOW A POET FINDS YOU:
withering, wilting, drooping
shrunken as a head
laden
with loathing
and lacking love.
THIS IS HOW I FIND YOU:
laying on your bed
holding wuthering heights
with discarded sushi at your feet
and tears at your mouth
and if i were to ask you
which tasted better
i bet you'd say
the sushi.
because why the fuck
would tears taste better than california rolls
and soy sauce.
fucking poets.
THIS IS WHAT A POET SAYS TO YOU:
delia, you're injured
beyond repair
cracked and creased
like an old teacup
only a gentle graze and grasp can mend you
and you are so beautiful
sitting here
doused in the shadows of a thousand
creeks and whistles
i see you
and someone else will too
they will love you
and they will graze and grasp at you
and they will mend you.
THIS IS WHAT I SAY TO YOU:
delia, you look like shit
you don't look beautiful
with a pair of glasses made of mascara
and a worn version of wuthering heights
shoved under your sheets
you don't look beautiful waiting to be saved.
you look beautiful
when you snap your chopsticks at me
you look beautiful
when you read books you love
not books you're told to love
you look beautiful
with glasses made of eyelashes
and lenses the color of green ice
[your eye color]
you look beautiful
when there's sweat collecting at your forehead
you look beautiful
when there's grass matted to your cleats
you look beautiful
dearest delia,
not when you're waiting
broken and busted
but when you're advancing
whole and unabridged.
you look most beautiful
when you replace those worry lines
from the boy who broke you so
with laugh lines.
you look most beautiful
when you fix yourself
before my very eyes.
you look most beautiful
when you pick up that sushi
and hold it out to me.
and you look most beautiful
when you snap your chopsticks at my face
when you throw your head back
and shoot your laughter up at the sky.
i fucking see you, delia.
and i think you're beautiful
splayed across your bed
smiling and grinning and smirking
and
holding a seinfeld box set
up to my face.
your sadness is not an accessory
but your smile is
and i swear to god
i'd sling it across my face
every day if i could.
so dearest delia,
might i suggest
wearing that skyward thing around your lips
more often
than you wear
that sleeve of tears.
[tears are so last fall, anyway]
i smile
and
grin
and
smirk
and turn my face to you
and say,
"fuck poets."
and you look at me
funnily
and say
with the utmost solemnity,
"i don't know . . . i kinda like them."
fucking poets.
A/N: Lack of capitalization is stylistic choice! :) Hope you enjoyed, dear reader!
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125,015 Literary Works • 672,850 Reviews
For starters, I strongly disagree with Lady Spark about the long-windedness of the poem. I loved the premise of it being a long, unabridged thought (because really, don't humans think that way?). Overall, I loved the quirkiness of the poem and the emotions it evoked through your use of imagery. I'm not sure I quite understand the concept of who the poets are and how it is different from the way you find her... I interpret it as society's viewpoint of who she is and how you see her. I like that this poem is up to interpretation as well.
The lack of capitalization adds a colloquial appeal to the poem which made it feel like a conversation - as if I was peeking into the writer's thoughts. Here's another reason why I disagree with Lady Spark.
Anyways, the alliterations used throughout were amazing, especially here:
However, here - the alliterations are a bit overdone because a teacup does not typically crease:
I would just find a different word to replace "creased".
Lastly, the use of brackets was effective in some places and a bit redundant in others. Here it was used strangely:
On the other hand, when it is used here:
The brackets are used beautifully and add, again, that colloquial element.
Good work. It was much different from what I normally run into on this site. The added details including sushi and Wuthering Heights was noteworthy.
Hello! My name is Spark
Wow, this is a long poem. I love it, and I love the premise behind it, but it's so incredibly long winded, that I found myself getting a little bored. Sometimes, shorter is better. Sometimes condensing what you want to say is better.
The lack of line breaks also makes it hard to read. It feels like one never ending repetitive thought.
I'm not sure why you decided to bold words. It doesn't really make anything you're saying poignant, or leave more of an effect. It just kind of feels redundant and useless. If you took it out completely, it wouldn't change the poem at all. Well, it might make it a little better and a cleaner, but that's it.
What I want you to work on is getting to the point faster. You ramble a lot in this poem and it really detracts from what you're trying to say. You could cut /a lot/ of this out and it would still be just as good, if not better.
An example of talking too much is this. You didn't really need to say that her eye color is green. We gathered that from the previous line. The great thing about poetry is that you don't have to spell everything out for your reader. You can leave a lot to the imagination. It makes the poem better if you leave stuff to the imagination. Spelling it all out actually makes the poem less proactive and poignant.
Anyway, I wish you luck! I really enjoyed your poem!
Sparkles