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Snogged senseless

by jacquelinemi

Published February 11, 2009

The tongue’s eyes open only in a kiss.
When lashes flutter closed he at last achieves sight.
This intrepid explorer encounters his bliss
Whilst floundering deep in the breadth of your kiss.

Comments & reviews · 5
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zalarus
Review
zalarus wrote a review Review · Feb 13, 2009

pretty good. a bit short, but that's alright. you might want to think of making longer poems in the future. and the rhythm was a bit shaky in the second line. it does read well with the first line, so you might think of revising that. other than that, it was solid. appropriate use of vocabulary, decent subject matter... basically, it was alright, but very hard to judge, because of it's lack of length. keep on writing.
Pax,
zalarus

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Eraqio
Review
Eraqio wrote a review Review · Feb 13, 2009

GAH!!!

Sorry but I'm a stickler for length, and with a work this good I wish there had been more, alot more.

Besides that though, very well done, what is there is very well composed and in fact makes me want to read it over and over.

The opening line caught me off guard and I'm still not sure what it means hah.
Great!

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jacquelinemi Comment
jacquelinemi commented Comment · Feb 11, 2009

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. I've been at MIT for a while, drowning in all the technical subject matter, and hadn't revisited my poetry in ages. In light of that, it feels great to get positive feedback.

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Explosive_Pen
Review
Explosive_Pen wrote a review Review · Feb 11, 2009

Wow! This is one of the only short poems that I actually liked. The problem with short poems is that you don't get the same amount of meaning and depth as you might in a long poem, but that's not the case here. Your choice of words was incredible. The only thing that you could maybe work on was rhythm; it was a little shaky in some parts.
But other than that... Flawless.



I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights