Call It Insanity

Hey there! An interesting piece you have here, I love the title and the initial concept and I don't have many comments really. There's a few rough edges that can be shaved off but in general it's a pretty powerful poem.

One morning I woke up and decided
that I'd warn them about the monsters
waiting in hell; they looked at me
with curious eyes, wondering if maybe
I could be on the borderline of insanity
and ignored me as they walked away. [Hmmm. I find this a little contradictory. They're not ignoring, not if they've already given the persona strange looks and are wondering these things. It would be more apt for them to edge away. I know I always feel nervous when my religious friend is in one of her preaching moves so I always slowly slide away or move the subject along.]

My words bond together, line
by telephone line, wrapping tightly [Love the imagery of line, by telephone line. Very good.]
around the poles and into the clouds,
desperately reaching out to grasp
loose strands of hair being tossed [The hair is a good metaphor but what for? Evidence? People's souls? I think that needs to be clearer.]
by the wind; immaculate snowflakes
carelessly tossed by the wind; [I didn't like the repetition of tossed by the wind; it doesn't add anything to the piece.]

they all run, arms flailing in the air
introducing their fractured souls
to a tainted belief in God; they're willing [Nice line.]
to pray when the storm rolls in, when time calls
from the earth: the ground begins to boil
as more trees are fed, as more ankles,
more knees, more legs are fed; I knew
someday they'd wish they had listened. [I like this line. I love how the 'I told you so' is quite in your face and it doesn't exactly make you hate the persona but shows the flaws and, personally, it made me sympathise with those who didn't listen.]

There's no use for broken wings, but
all they have are these broken wings when [Mmm. Don't like the repetition of broken wings here. Maybe 'shredded feathers' or 'heavy aeroplane arms' could replace one?]
line by telephone line, my words fall apart [Now this is a good use of repetition. You've left it long enough that the line has faded in the reader's mind and now you re-affirm it, good work!]
like a tightrope and its walker, hanging
in the sky like an eagle without his talons,
so all he can do is fly until the candle
in his heart has lost it's its flame, falling
from the sky like a suicide-bound plane, so
all it can do is...

Interesting way to end. I'm not sure how much I like having the last word left off, though I do think it suggests a slight touch of uncertainty which certainly fits the subject at hand. Is it real, is it not? Who knows! If that was intended then nicely done ^^

Thanks for the read and I hope you'll find my comments of use,

Heather xxx

earendil wrote:One morning I woke up and decided
that I'd warn them about the monsters
waiting in hell; they looked at me
with curious eyes, wondering if maybe
I could be on the borderline of insanity
and ignored me as they walked away.
I liked this stanza.
My words bond together, line
by telephone line, wrapping tightly
around the poles and into the clouds,
desperately reaching out to grasp
loose strands of hair being tossed
by the wind;I like this bit of imagery here. immaculate snowflakes
carelessly tossed by the wind;I don't really understand this part. Could you make it clearer please?

I think this should be a 'T'.they all run, arms flailing in the air
introducing their fractured souls
to a tainted belief in God; they're willing
to pray when storm rolls in, when time calls
from the earth: the ground begins to boil
as more trees are fed, as more ankles,
more knees, more legs are fed;This part was a little confusing. Could you make it clearer please? I knew
someday they'd wish they had listened.I like the way this stanza sounds

There's no use for broken wings, but
all they have are these broken wings, when
line by telephone line, my words fall apart
like a tightrope and its walker, hanging
in the sky like an eagle without his talons,
so all he can do is fly until the candle
in his heart has lost it's flame, falling
from the sky like a suicide-bound plane, so
all it can do is...Again, I liked the imagery in this stanza.

I apologize for my recent laziness. I'm workin' on it.
Okay. On to the actual review. Let's see if I can say anything coherent.

One morning I woke up and decided
that I'd warn them about the monsters
waiting in hell;

My words bond together, line
by telephone line, wrapping tightly
around the poles and into the clouds,

introducing their fractured souls
to a tainted belief in God;

all they have are these broken wings when
line by telephone line, my words fall apart
like a tightrope and its walker, hanging
in the sky like an eagle without his talons,

I thought this was a really good poem. You used great description and it was very thorough. Reading it made me think of all different types of circumstances like that that have happened to me.. I especially loved the end. It was sort of simple and to the point.