Ophelia;
She walks clenching a knife,
unto her pale and cold bosom.
Her wet night gown dragging,
pulling weeds behind her.
Her hair mangled
and dark, polluted with water.
She holds the knife tighter,
knuckles turning white around the blade.
She walks through scarcely remembered
corridors, of a once familiar place.
She aprroaches a familiar looking door,
oak with cast iron handle.
She caresses the handle,
remebering times of happiness,
until sadness is cast upon her.
She flings the door open,
lurching in.
Brandishing blade at hated foe,
mother, father, husband, mirror,
whichever may be inside.
She stabs, and stabs again,
until they are dead.
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140,755 Literary Works • 673,687 Reviews
Ciao Retro.
I rather like the topic as a baseboard--'tis room enough to play any number of poetic games, serious or silly. With your structure, you seem to be settling on serious, a gothic, vampiric like dour piece. ^_^ And the form holds the heaviness in your structure, repetition in subject/verb, subject/verb, repetition of she at the beginning of lines or stanzas.
But with that structure, the poem seems to have lost all poetry as well. The sentence structure could make a good casing in which to house the vengeance of a dead Ophelia, returned. But there's nothing in the imagery, and no specific meter, to draw the reader out of this plodding form: it's like bricks built into a wall, and then built through the house as well. It's all brick. It might at this point just as well be a pice of very brief summary in prose.
In prose, one is often admonished to show, rather than tell. In poetry, 'tis naught there to admonish: poetry is showing. And a difficulty with poetry that tells more than shows is that often repeats itself without intent.
Oy, I quite like the idea of her trailing through corridors that are familiar, but that she can't recall.
Show that to me, da? What is familiarity, even when one can't remember?
It's that sort of image that will make your poem spark.
Remember times of happiness is a phrase like soup without salt. Does Ophelia have times of happiness? Perhaps a metaphor or simile would show your reader, and let them feel and taste it.
As a side note: Unto means something utterly different from until. ^_^ You need a few until's within this poem rather than unto's.
All in all, I would keep your structure of subject/verb, plodding report--or play with it at least--but take wherever your adjectives generals and abstracts, and make them tangible, physical. Make happiness a specific memory. Take the cliche out of white knuckles, and turn it stark--perhaps her s=chafed fingers bleed along the knife's haft.
And oy, especially--I caught the mention of mirror as she sees her 'foes'--use that! It would be an excellent turn in the poem, horrific and somewhat grotesque--if her foe was as much herself, or only herself. (Rather fit with the character and her story as well.) But at the moment, it's buried...trailing at the end of a list of nouns without face.
I'd love to see what this might be, working on a bit. ^_^ PM me with any questions, if you like.
IMP
I loved this...a little bit depressing but that's all good ^^. I liked how you describe each line and how it flows rather nicely together. I can't find anything grammar wise wrong but I was wondering what is she avenging? What is her reason to killing them? Maybe that's my story side screaming for more information but I would like to know x.x Or that's just me being weird and not understanding of poems XD Either way I enjoyed this and I can't wait to read more soon ^^. Hmm looking over it I found a few things I think might make it better.
[quote]She stabs, and stabs again, [b]Think you don't need the comma before and.{/b]
Her hair mangled
and dark, polluted with water. [b] Think you could rephrase this somehow it was confusing in the second line x.x {/b}
That is all I can spot and the second one is highly opinionated XD. So either way I loved it. Keep up the good work. Sayonara and Best of Wishes.
Soulkana<3