Post by Admin on Mar 10, 2014 2:34:09 GMT -5
Okay, so I keep writing poems for my creative writing class, but I've yet to get a proper critique on anything I've written, as the standards are set very very low. So here are some of my poems, tell me which are shitty.
Hugs, Kisses, Warm Sweaters, and Other Shit Not in This Poem
These words are tying my legs to cinder blocks.
I’m typing this poem from the bottom of the Hudson River.
Tugging convex lights; reeking, sour whispers from fish.
I can see the reaper’s voice.
A Xanadu of Florence Hendersons in white gowns.
Life has never been so prominent.
Yet, if I was the one who died?
The sloshed teen, soaked in harsh vomit.
If I close my eyes hard enough, we’ve switched places,
And I feel like I’ve had two major victories.
The austere gable of unity slithered off the castle.
A cruel rainbow; slaughtering light, stealing children.
I’m holding that rainbow in my basement.
Bran ain’t playin’. “Where’s my friend?”
It will never speak. Rhyme nor lore.
This aroused river, hungry for what slips under.
If my heart is on fire, this water can’t freeze me.
El frío no me molestó de todos modos.
Schools of trout, smiling with rows of human teeth.
If I close my eyes hard enough, I’m typing this poem from the bottom of the Hudson River.
Filial Piety
Wet dew, green mornings,
High window, barred light;
The girl awoke from her cot.
Ribs plumed, butterfly wings:
An open invitation to her heart.
The scientist scrapes the arteries,
The doctor closes the wounds.
No scars, never scars.
Tie her to the gurney,
Lock her in the room,
The window, too high for sight.
A little girl’s only goal.
Skin peeled, limbs removed,
Eager to be a corpse on the table.
The doctor reassembles the pieces,
and she sits alone in her cage.
No scars, never scars.
Flesh burned, bones broken,
A position far too familiar.
Scraping her flesh with sandpaper,
They feed her what peels off.
Grated floor, musty air,
Mottled walls, forged reason.
The scientist collided with her face,
travelling down her body.
Bare flesh, quiet flesh.
Speak and they won’t believe you.
Flee, to be bottled again.
No escape relinquished.
Only spring dew through the opening.
Repeated pangs, silent torment.
The experiment ends.
She’s guided from the room,
Peeled legs, can’t stand.
No doctor’s diagnosis,
Or remedy brewed.
Only flesh, never scars.
Literally the worst thing I’ve ever written
I can burn down everything I know.
All is flammable and weak-
Frail objects, subjective meaning.
I can burn down villains and angels.
Subtlety is dangerous,
What isn’t seen isn’t anticipated.
I can burn down tangibles.
Hold it in your hand
Shatter toys on poor roads.
I can burn down buildings.
People are dangerous.
It’s a mutual power. Understanding.
I can burn down feelings.
If they were people.
If they were objects.
I can burn down senses.
Tasty gentle breeze?
Singing portraits of fruit?
I can burn down everything.
I am powerful and benevolent.
We are wild beasts.
I can burn down churches.
Hear me preach your words,
You quake with my fear.
I can burn down nothing.
Write a poem with no flow.
Ending without finishing my
I Gots to Say Goodbye
I had my friend
He lived in here
That spot a’tween my eyes.
But now I’m big
And I made friends,
I gots to say goodbye.
We used to play
All sorts of games
Pretendin we could fly,
You never lived,
‘cept in my brain,
I guess you never died.
You went away
You took a trip
You packed your toys and ties,
I’ll miss you here
You had to go
I gots to say goodbye.
We had some fun
You played with me
When we were only I,
I’m sad you’re gone,
I’ll miss you so,
But I gots to say goodbye.
So yeah, if anyone still comes here, I wouldn't mind your opinion. Also, I might post some stuff other people wrote for the lols.
Hugs, Kisses, Warm Sweaters, and Other Shit Not in This Poem
These words are tying my legs to cinder blocks.
I’m typing this poem from the bottom of the Hudson River.
Tugging convex lights; reeking, sour whispers from fish.
I can see the reaper’s voice.
A Xanadu of Florence Hendersons in white gowns.
Life has never been so prominent.
Yet, if I was the one who died?
The sloshed teen, soaked in harsh vomit.
If I close my eyes hard enough, we’ve switched places,
And I feel like I’ve had two major victories.
The austere gable of unity slithered off the castle.
A cruel rainbow; slaughtering light, stealing children.
I’m holding that rainbow in my basement.
Bran ain’t playin’. “Where’s my friend?”
It will never speak. Rhyme nor lore.
This aroused river, hungry for what slips under.
If my heart is on fire, this water can’t freeze me.
El frío no me molestó de todos modos.
Schools of trout, smiling with rows of human teeth.
If I close my eyes hard enough, I’m typing this poem from the bottom of the Hudson River.
Filial Piety
Wet dew, green mornings,
High window, barred light;
The girl awoke from her cot.
Ribs plumed, butterfly wings:
An open invitation to her heart.
The scientist scrapes the arteries,
The doctor closes the wounds.
No scars, never scars.
Tie her to the gurney,
Lock her in the room,
The window, too high for sight.
A little girl’s only goal.
Skin peeled, limbs removed,
Eager to be a corpse on the table.
The doctor reassembles the pieces,
and she sits alone in her cage.
No scars, never scars.
Flesh burned, bones broken,
A position far too familiar.
Scraping her flesh with sandpaper,
They feed her what peels off.
Grated floor, musty air,
Mottled walls, forged reason.
The scientist collided with her face,
travelling down her body.
Bare flesh, quiet flesh.
Speak and they won’t believe you.
Flee, to be bottled again.
No escape relinquished.
Only spring dew through the opening.
Repeated pangs, silent torment.
The experiment ends.
She’s guided from the room,
Peeled legs, can’t stand.
No doctor’s diagnosis,
Or remedy brewed.
Only flesh, never scars.
Literally the worst thing I’ve ever written
I can burn down everything I know.
All is flammable and weak-
Frail objects, subjective meaning.
I can burn down villains and angels.
Subtlety is dangerous,
What isn’t seen isn’t anticipated.
I can burn down tangibles.
Hold it in your hand
Shatter toys on poor roads.
I can burn down buildings.
People are dangerous.
It’s a mutual power. Understanding.
I can burn down feelings.
If they were people.
If they were objects.
I can burn down senses.
Tasty gentle breeze?
Singing portraits of fruit?
I can burn down everything.
I am powerful and benevolent.
We are wild beasts.
I can burn down churches.
Hear me preach your words,
You quake with my fear.
I can burn down nothing.
Write a poem with no flow.
Ending without finishing my
I Gots to Say Goodbye
I had my friend
He lived in here
That spot a’tween my eyes.
But now I’m big
And I made friends,
I gots to say goodbye.
We used to play
All sorts of games
Pretendin we could fly,
You never lived,
‘cept in my brain,
I guess you never died.
You went away
You took a trip
You packed your toys and ties,
I’ll miss you here
You had to go
I gots to say goodbye.
We had some fun
You played with me
When we were only I,
I’m sad you’re gone,
I’ll miss you so,
But I gots to say goodbye.
So yeah, if anyone still comes here, I wouldn't mind your opinion. Also, I might post some stuff other people wrote for the lols.
