Petals

by strengthinnumbers

Published January 6, 2008

Falling gently
To the ground
As someone lightly tosses them
From a basket
Tied with bows

Comments & reviews · 5
written_on_my_heart wrote a review Review · Jan 11, 2008

Well, since you're new I can give you a break. Being "the new kid in town" isn't always easy and remember I am here if you need me! Well lets begin the critique, shall we? Well, first off, a little short. Extend your topic, know your topic, and BE your topic. You have to strut your stuff when it comes to writing. It's a writer eat writer world on yws and you have to learn to slowly progress. However, you aren't alone, and thats why we critique your work. Try looking at other poetry. Incadescent is a great poet you could check out. Also, don't rush through your poems, hey if there's writers block all you can do is read. so don't stress!!

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lin night
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lin night commented Comment · Jan 11, 2008

this is awesome. like reading a painting, kind of?

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lulu_lizzrd
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lulu_lizzrd commented Comment · Jan 7, 2008

ummm thats very simple

lulu

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my_wonderwall
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my_wonderwall commented Comment · Jan 6, 2008

is this about a wedding? it's short and sweet and i like it. at first however, it did confuse me but thats just because i wasn't completely focussed. it usually takes me a bit to understand poetry. i'm just a weirdo.
have a great day! =)

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Cade
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Cade wrote a review Review · Jan 6, 2008

It seems you're new, so welcome! And it also seems like you missed the Rules. Please read them before you post next time.

The poem doesn't do much. Well, it doesn't do anything, really. Yes, petals falling is delightful fun. But what makes me care? What makes me interested? Why should I want to know about these petals?

This is not a poem, this is a poorly written sentence and a terribly overused image. I suggest you read some good poetry.

Better luck next time, and welcome to YWS!
-Colleen



"In my contact with people I find that, as a rule, it is only the little, narrow people who live for themselves, who never read good books, who do not travel, who never open up their souls in a way to permit them to come into contact with other souls -- with the great outside world."
— Booker T. Washington, Up From Slavery