Poetry Nerdfighters

[Bnoffeepi]

Any poets here? 

I thought maybe we could critique each other's poems on this thread :)

I just wrote this: 

'A Poem Written Whilst Watching Reality Tele. Against My Will (regretful).'

And,
Which way shall we go,
On this fork?
All roads lead to Rome.

'And,
Are we going to Rome?'
She asked.

Yes,
We shall stand,
A-top the Pantheon,
And look through the little hole,

Like the Gods we aren't meant to be.

 

Could you tell me what you think? Oh, and post your own poetry and we can give each other advice :) 

[Jasmine Kozak Gilroy]

I like it :) Very whimsical. And I love this idea! Seriously, I basically jumped at the chance and found the first finished poem I could, it's from last summer: 

freedom is the taste of my cinnamon gum on your mouth,

the snap of brightly colored spandex,

and nothing else.

the bitter scent of coffee at 4 am,

and the haze that follows.

it’s the rush,

the crescendo,

it’s the scent of burning hair,

and the flash of irritation that follows,

it’s everything but reality,

and it’s nothing without it.

freedom is pain without return,

selfish love, orange skies, blood and bleach.

you know it when you see it,

when it runs it’s rough fingers thru your untamed hair and shoots you come hither glances across the table, as your feet tangle beneath.

you know it when you slither out the door,

leaving expectations behind with questioning blue eyes and a slack jaw.

freedom is power, and the utter stupidity it takes to use it.

freedom is honesty and deception, hate and affection.

freedom is fleeting, freedom is eternity,

freedom is as it always was, and as it never again will be.

[Bnoffeepi]

This is really good :)  I love the words like 'cinnamon', 'blood'  and 'burning', they really represent those summery colours, oranges and yellows; hot colours. Starting off with 'cinnamon' making it feel like a nice poem about summer and then to 'burning' and 'blood' revealing the key meaning to the poem. If I were you, I would break it up into two stanzas at 'You know when you see it' but, that's just me, it works either way :)

This is some much fun!I love reading new poetry :D

[Neha Rahman]

I really like this. You instantly paint a very vibrant image. I got the story you were telling right from the start. It's like a summer adventure. I loved the way you manipulated the words and made what  could seem like nothing into this whole amazing story. I loved the use of the colourful words as well. 

The only really critique-y thing I have to point out is the word "thru". I'm just kind of pedantic about using like actual words in things. Unless you meant to do that. If so, that's totally fine. But yeah, while I was reading it that word kind of threw me off. 

Other than that, awesome poem. I really enjoyed reading it :) 

[Brianna Marie]

Oooh, that's cool. You have great imagery and sensory details. I love how your details include a lot of other senses besides sight, because those are sometimes even stronger. I also like how freedom was like this sort of idea in the beginning, and it turned into a single specific instance, and the entire picture grows into an entire story. That's absolutely wonderful and brilliant.

I think it would flow better if you took out the "it's" in the eighth line so it reads the scent of burning hair.

You use "that follows" twice, and I don't know if you intended to for some reason, or if it was an accident. I would either get rid of one, or maybe use it again one more time later on, perhaps at the end, just to solidify it, so I'm not questioning it. 

The "it's" in line like 15 is supposed to be its, and thru should be through. Also in that line, I don't think that comma should be after table, but if you change that as to and the comma should be there. And I think 'come hither' should have some sort of punctuation around it, whether ' ', or " ", or a hyphen, or something.

Just as a general rule, poems are supposed to be tight. Every single word in a poem should be absolutely necessary, and if a word that is not absolutely necessary should be cut. So I noticed that you use the and it's and and a lot, and I thought that some of them could probably be cut. 

[Hiria Hallbutcher]

I like it!

Here's one of my poems, it's a Doctor Who one about someone discovering, and then being pursued by a weeping angel!

Nothing there.

Facing forward.

Movement.

Turn.

 Nothing.

Turn back.

Movement sounds closer.

Again, turn back.

A grey figure, head in hands, crying.

A statue.

Seemingly still.

Turn back, walk a few steps.

Movement coming ever nearer.

Turn back suddenly.

The angel-like figure is now watching. It’s moved.

Walk facing backwards.

No motion.

Blink.

Figure is much, much nearer.

Blinking makes it move.

Mustn’t blink.

Don’t blink.

Feel along the wall for the nearest exit door.

A lump suddenly, the doorknob of course!

Turn the knob, tug.

It doesn’t open.

Panic slightly.

Turn the knob the other way, tug again.

It opens.

Edge to the doorway.

Walk facing back through the empty frame.

Still watching the angel, still no blinking.

The angel seems to say ‘I’ll get you!’

Slam the door.

Down the steps.

Run.

Can’t stop running.

The Angel returns to its original place, forever waiting.

A lucky escape has been had.

Not everyone is so fortunate.

The point of this?

Warnings.

Just two.

Beware the Weeping Angels.

And please, for God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t blink!

[Bnoffeepi]

That's cool! I really like the choppy, free verse structure; it makes the reader feel how scared the character is. If you would like to make it even better you could use more figurative language to add an air of mystery to the angels or, to more elegantly describe the character's terror. I also like the start where there's 'nothing there' and how it slowly works up to the end where there's something big and bad and we now know there name. 

That's what I think, on the whole pretty awesome :D Although, you can ignore my advice if you want, I just really like critiquing poetry :) 

[Neha Rahman]

I have a super-short poem which I wrote a really long time ago. Honestly, I can't even remember when I wrote this. I tend to get any and all inspiration at 2am in the morning and later. So this was probably the outcome of one of those. 

Finality In the Fractions

 

Give me half a cup of tea

One third sugar, a quarter dream

Why does everyone feel like

Digging a whole?

Because what if you fall in and

Get stuck? 

 

[Bnoffeepi]

I really like this :) It's short, sweet and funny. I took it to mean 'why do people want everything when life can be perfect with fractions of that'. The only thing I'd say to improve it would be to split it into two stanzas of four and two... I think I'm just picky with stanzas 

[Sweet of the Wood]

Cool!

[Neha Rahman]

And to the original poem at the top:

Wow, this is really nice. I love the shapes you created with the words. The repetition of 'Rome' instantly clued me in that this was going to be a running theme, and it was a perfect balance, not overused. I loved that twist at the end, because that really brought your whole message full circle. Human explorers trying to be more than they are. 

I try to be a good critiquer and point out negatives but I just can't. This poem was amazing. 

[Hiria Hallbutcher]

Is it ok to share a second poem? This one is called Trapped, I wrote it while I was very stressed and had a headache.

Trapped

Bad feelings crawling through your head

Darkness overwhelming

Tight space limiting life

Silence taking over

I know because

I’m trapped

Please

Help

Me

[Anna May]

I really like the way you use the shape of the poem to compliment the meaning, it makes it feel very enclosed. Also, the lack of punctuation makes you read quicker the shorter the lines get, which is really effective as it makes it seem panicked. Good poem.

 

I try to write poetry but I always find that I like my poems when I write them, and then I come back to them and think they're horrible. Does anyone else have this problem?

 

For example, I wrote this a few days ago, and now all I can do is pick holes in it.

 

The Desert-Master

 

I am the last cowboy, (or maybe we are scattered,

Here and there across a desert that is

Only half in physical),

                                But we are few,

And the road is rolling onwards

Like the weary sea returning to his harbour.

 

Tonight the terra cotta dust between my toes

Recalls the fleeting sunset of a summer day;

Your silent evening puffs of breath like

Moths dancing their life around a candle,

Fluttering as the curve of your eyelids

On your cheek.