The Write Poetry
Critique of the Month
Learn From the Masters
The Write "Stuff"
THE WRITE POETRY
In Your Lips
StraightRazor99
I press my lips onto yours, and the chill steals my breath
Your hands lie cold and still in mine
I try with my every breath to recapture you
But there are no words left that I can say
Nothing that will wash away the truth
Slowly, as your body begins to submit
I feel the weight of your soul in my arms
You are drained, and I will hold you
Hold you for as long as you need me to
I search your eyes for the look I have come to love you for
I see only my own reflection, and the image tears at me
The fire has become glass
Your life slips away
You have been taken from me
But I do not weep
Angels cannot remain here long
You have gone home
You have flown away
Teach Me
Teach me
Lead me to a perfect oblivion
I want the truth
Every feeling
Hurt
Laughter
Satisfaction
Thanks
Emotion
Convict me of lack of interest
Tell me I'm not learning enough
Force me to learn more
Teach me
The Angel
[emmikate2@hotmail.com]
An amazing woman,
A mother, once said,
Good night, little one,
I love you, go to bed.
And that child said
In reply,
I love you, too, Mommy,
But please dont cry.
Well both be okay,
Just you and I.
The mother smiled through her tears,
And whispered sadly, Goodbye.
Her little girl slowly fell asleep,
And in the darkness of the night.
She felt propelled by a warm hand,
That led her upstairs, flight by flight.
She let the hand guide her,
Until she reached her bed.
Then she turned and smiled,
I just cant leave her yet, she said.
And so the mother apologized,
To the angel shining bright,
Again she whispered in her softest voice,
I just cant go tonight.
For years the mother said no,
To the angel in the glistening snow.
Only a mother could say no to death,
Until cancer took her last breath.
Black Dragon Castle- A Model of Tu Fu Literature
[karebear00]
A silk golden gown hangs
in a broken dresser. The dust
grows thick in this room. The
carpet is old and rotting.
No fire has seen the lanterns for
many years. What princess must
have slept here? Where has
she gone? Is she among the
dusty floor?
[no_zd124@hotmail.com]
Touch me when I'm cold,
Make me feel alive,
Take me as I am,
Make me what you want,
Tell me that you need me,
Make me yours alone,
Take away this pain,
Fill me with your need,
Love me with your body,
Burn your mark in my soul,
Wash away the sins,
I know you can't forgive,
Just take me as you see me,
And teach me how to live.
CRITIQUE OF THE MONTH
Children of Glass [1]
Karebear00
Children of glass, [2]
Children of glass are molded at others (others')
whim ((If there is more than one person, there must be more than one whim. Look at subject agreement... Plus, is glass really maleable? Only thing less malleable are maybe children of diamonds.))[3...that's 3 times too many] {another word than glass}
They grow into adults who are strangers to them [strangers to whom?]{are they strangers to the other adults?} (one: is this supposed to rhyme? two: strangers to who? Themselves, or the others?)
Its (One: it's, as in "it has"... two: What has?) taught some emotions are an evil and wrong to feel [I'm not feeling this rhyme scheme] ((What on earth are you talking about? Also, "some emotions are an evil"- they're not just evil as an adjective? Is there a reason for them to be an evil, as a noun?))
Hard Eyes reject everything that is real [feel/real. Very over-used rhyme. It's like love/above] {repetition of rhyme} (Why is "hard eyes" capitalized? And... what?)
Children of glass are transparent
They were never allowed to feel [where does this line fit in? Why doesn't it rhyme with the line before it?]
Looked threw [through](through) as if they were never there ((At first glance, "looked through" sounds as though they're doing the looking. Instead, I believe you mean that others look through them. Perhaps you should be clearer.))
They learn too fast that life isn't fair
Children of glass are easily shattered
Tattered [since when are you using internal rhyming?]and torn [tattered and torn are cliche, and don't really fit the metaphor of glass] ((I agree. Tattered could fit for something cloth, but these beings are glass.))
This isn'y ((isn't)) the way God wants children to feel after they're born [very weak way to end the poem. Strange language choice.] ((Wait, so this is all about birth? Are these children real? You never mentioned God before, so why now? How do you know what God wants?))
-Sarah King
[I think I was getting what you were trying to say, but only through blind inference. The images were strong in theory, but were not developed as they deserved to be. I would invest in a bit more time and thought as you try to pull off an ABABAB rhymer. While those seem simple, they easily become cliche and overly simplified. The message is lost when the tonality overwhelms the subject. If you are going to use a rhymer, be extra aggressive about being creative and fresh.]
{I like the general idea of thepoem. You just need to work on the rhyme scheme a bit.You have an overuse of phrases.}
(The rhyme scheme's a little off-balance. The couplet form-- the there/fair thing sounds especially clunky. However, I think you're getting at something-- just use fewer cliches, and get more specific as far as what you're talking about. As a matter of fact, it's really hard to tell what you're talking about... I think you're trying to get at 'haunting,' but it's coming off as 'confusing.' Keep working. Don't give up.)
((I'm going to try not to repeat what's already been said. The word that leaps forefront in my mind is, "What?" Now, I'm not saying you suck and you should die. Many of your metaphors were really intriguing, but I don't understand the overall message of your poem. Who are the children of glass? Why are they so messed up? Are you a child of glass? What made you think of that metaphor? I think the audience would benefit from further development of the extended metaphor. Who made these children of glass? A master glass-blower? God? Who's making them fall to the floor? Why are they so fragile? Were they painted with care, or is the glass gnarled from their haphazard construction? What was that stuff about birth at the end of the poem? Is this what babies are like when they first come into the world? Why aren't they loved by their parents? Maybe are their parents the glass-blowers, but the cruel world finally breaks them in the end? Look at how many ways I can interpret this. It's good to have a versatile poem, but the reader should have some glimmer of what you actually intended your poem to mean. Still, it has potential, so don't despair.))
LEARN FROM THE MASTERS
"Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., b. Indianapolis, Ind., Nov. 11, 1922, combines science fiction, social satire, and black comedy in his novels, which won a wide following during the 1960s. Vonnegut's themes spring from his contemplation of 20th-century horrors: dehumanization in a technological society in Player Piano (1952) and Cat's Cradle (1963), and the random destructiveness of modern war in Slaughterhouse-Five (1969; film, 1972).More recent works include Galapagos (1985), Bluebeard (1987), and the autobiographical Fates Worse than Death (1991). Although his work has been criticized as simplistic, it has equally often been praised for its comic creativity."
~ http://www.levity.com/corduroy/vonnegut.htm
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