What is Freedom?

by felistia

Published June 13, 2016

E - Everyone

In 6: Poems

Freedom is the silky wind beneath my wings,

As I fly over forests and cool mountain springs.

Freedom is the roar of the ocean waves,

Carving out the shapes of seaweed strewn caves.

Freedom is the morning sun rising higher and higher,

As it paints the sky with brilliant gold and orange fire.

Freedom is the speckled mountain snows,

Where the mighty wind howls and blows.

Freedom is different for everyone,

Whether it’s staring at the gleaming sun,

Or swimming into the swirling ocean deep,

Or watching the night sky while all others sleep.

Freedom can be embraced by all men across the earth,

But only a few realize what freedom is truly worth.

Comments & reviews · 3
User avatar
Kayley01
Review
Kayley01 wrote a review Review · Jun 26, 2016

Hi @Kayley01 here for review. I liked the idea of your poem, but as I went along I got a bit confused. I think my mind just got a bit dazed when you started making some of your sentences a bit longer than they should be. For example:
"As it paints the sky with brilliant gold and orange fire." It is just a tad too long try taking out one syllable just to make it sound a bit better. I do like the way you described everything. It sounds like you put a lot of work and thought into this poem. Keep up the good work!

@Kayley01.

Thanks for the review. :D

User avatar
myjaspercat
Review
myjaspercat wrote a review Review · Jun 14, 2016

Hey Felistia,
It feels good to back on YWS and to be writing reveiws again. That being said, I would just like you to know that this may not be the best review I have ever written since I'm out of practice but I do hope that my reveiw helps. Anyways now that that is all clearified why don't we get this party started...

Freedom is the silky wind beneath my wings, I like this line alot, however I have one question. Can you explain to me how wind is silky? The metaphor is nothing bad but I was just a tad confused about that. Still though it's good and I like it.
As I fly over forests and cool mountain springs.
Freedom is the roar of the ocean waves,
Carving out the shapes of seaweed strewn caves. Ok, so this next phrase is good as well, but I feel like you ended it a little to suddenly. It may be just me but this phrase would sound a whole lot better if it was added onto a bit.
Freedom is the morning sun rising higher and higher,
As it paints the sky with brilliant gold and orange fire. Wow, I really love this. So far I think that this is the best phrase yet.
Freedom is the speckled mountain snows,
Where the mighty wind howls and blows. Again, I think this phrase is a little cut to short.
Freedom is different for everyone,
Whether it’s staring at the gleaming sun,
Or swimming into the swirling ocean deep,
Or watching the night sky while all others sleep.
Freedom can be embraced by all men across the earth,
But only a few realize what freedom is truly worth. Ok so I think that the ending of this poem was a bit rushed. But other then that I like poem in general


Ok, so this was a good piece, I really did like it. There are just a few things in the line by line that I would like clarified or just worked upon. Other then that, you did an amazing job. Good luck and continue wiriting ---Myjaspercat

Thanks for the review. I will go over and tweak some of the lines. :D

DivergentDemigod wrote a review Review · Jun 13, 2016

Hey felistia!

Okay so I'll make this short since there ain't anything to criticize, but hey I can appreciate what I like right?

So anyway...

The flow was awesome
The word choice was awesome
It was short, so even the length was awesome
So basically your poem was awesome!

Whenever I think of freedom, the first thing that hits my mind is the fresh smell of forests and the feel of winds. The smell of sunlight and the silent noice of water flowing.

Your poem satisfied my prospect of freedom and maybe that's the reason I liked it so much.

So yeah good work,
~DivergentDemigod

Thanks for the review. I'm glad you liked it. :D



A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
— Markus Zusak, The Book Thief