Perfect Days

by dogs

Published March 28, 2011

In Imagery poetry

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Comments & reviews · 7
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Snoink
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Snoink commented Comment · Nov 19, 2011

Locked. Plagiarized.

Poetry is from Maggie Stiefvater's "Linger."

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dogs
Comment
dogs commented Comment · Mar 31, 2011

REMASTERED! with few grammatical and punctuation corrections. Please tell me all if you like this way or the first way better. thanks!

Folded in my arms you are a butterfly in reverse,
Giving up your wings to deliver my curse
Your letting go of me.

Your letting go to
Sail to an island unknown,
Failing to find your way back home
Leagues beneath away from me.

All these perfect days, made of glass
Put on a shelf where they can cast
Perfect shadows that stretch and grow
On the perfect days down below.




TuckEr EllsworTh :smt032

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silentwords
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silentwords commented Comment · Mar 30, 2011

Actually, yeah it doesn't make a huge difference so I would just leave it however you like :)

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dogs
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dogs commented Comment · Mar 30, 2011

Ok here are the corrections you suggested. I dont think i like it any better but do tell me what you guys think

Folded in my arms you are a butterfly in reverse
Giving up your wings to deliver my curse
Your letting go of me.

Your letting to
Sail to an island unknown
Failing to find your way back home
Leagues beneath away from me.

All these perfect days, made of glass
Put on a shelf where they can cast
Perfect shadows that stretch and grow
On the perfect days down below.



TuckEr EllsworTh :smt032

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dogs
Comment
dogs commented Comment · Mar 28, 2011

Ok thanks for the suggestion! I'll figure something out









TuckEr EllsworTh :smt032

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silentwords
Review
silentwords wrote a review Review · Mar 28, 2011

This is a really well-written poem! I really enjoyed it. The flow was good except it was sort of interupted at these two parts:

Your letting go of
Me.

Leagues beneath away from
Me.

I understand that it was done purposely, so I wouldn't actually change it, but maybe see if you can make it flow a little better.
Otherwise it was really enjoyable :)



For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noise way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein