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Literature Text
your worn coat smelled of sleep
and your eyes floated like
dead leaves in a still pond
I checked the clock but
the minute hand stopped momentarily
to catch its breath.
the field of dry grass stood still
but a brisk wind kissed our necks
and your lips touched the cartilage
at the edge of my ear
we huddled like branches
and settled into the dirt.
and your eyes floated like
dead leaves in a still pond
I checked the clock but
the minute hand stopped momentarily
to catch its breath.
the field of dry grass stood still
but a brisk wind kissed our necks
and your lips touched the cartilage
at the edge of my ear
we huddled like branches
and settled into the dirt.
Literature
The Sins of The Father
I’m the sum of all my fathers
But I won’t carry all their sins
The seed of life is precious
But blown away by gentle winds
Bad that’s happened in the past
Cannot be blamed today
For those who came before us
Have left their mark but gone away
We may inherit family features
And some traits just carry on
But we are all individuals who
Need to know that we belong
Literature
Fallen
When I was little, I held my hands up
and there was always a bigger pair
there to pick me up, raise me up
Dark and cold both accumulate near the ground
but I had found
a path to heaven, now forgotten
as the earth turns 'round;
So overcome by confusion, how...?
I can't cast my demons out
one devil still pulls me down
off the earth and off my gentle cloud
I lay upon the ground,
bloodied, broken, beaten down
and lament my fate, silenced now
He recalls his immoralities as if
they were someone else's little slips
and though his words have scarred me
much deeper than any knife or whip
he parades through town, a man, a god
going on about life as
Literature
Wildwomen
I borrowed a horse last Thursday to hunt the Wildwoman. He was tall and painted hungry; She’d borrowed time, then disappeared.
I could not bend to pick the rocks. The horse kept kicking dusty circles. ‘Round the barn, the Wildwoman crept in boots that used to be mine.
We didn’t see Her till the last three barrels, where She sprouted from the grit between my fingers to silence shouting hands.
Winding down sore muscles, drawing ankles to earth, She traced my body before darting up my spine - straight line from heels, to hips, to Crown.
And in the half-breath the horse spied hay and tried to throw me from the saddle, She
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This is an old poem I'm having a rather hard time editing. Your help would be insanely appreciated.
Feedback questions:
1) Is the season clear?
2) Does the imagery work?
3) Does the punctuation help or hinder the poem?
4) What do you feel the theme is? Is there one?
5) Do the line breaks feel fluid or random?
6) General comments and critiques?
Feedback questions:
1) Is the season clear?
2) Does the imagery work?
3) Does the punctuation help or hinder the poem?
4) What do you feel the theme is? Is there one?
5) Do the line breaks feel fluid or random?
6) General comments and critiques?
© 2015 - 2024 MattVoscinar
Comments12
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This is an interesting piece. It has clear imagery and nice pacing. The flow is pleasant and I enjoyed reading it. The minute punctuation adds to the overall rhythm of the piece and gives certain breaks definition. To answer a few of your questions that I haven't already answered: The season feels of autumn. I would guess the theme would be savoring a moment. The line breaks work for me, I even like the momentarily out by itself - it allows the reader a brief pause. I enjoy typography in all its forms and the minor use of it here is nice. I will break down the piece a bit.
your worn coat smelled of sleep
and your eyes floated like
dead leaves in a still pond
To touch again on the imagery, this is beautiful. It gives the reader clear vision of the subject and activates more than one sense. Well done. The detail allows the reader to know that the subject is important and focusing on the eyes allows the reader to know the subject means something to the writer.
I checked the clock but
the minute hand stopped momentarily
to catch its breath.
I already said it, but it bears repeating, singling out the word "momentarily" gives the reader pause and puts more emphasis on the word. This allows us to think about what is going on and yet does not break up the flow of the piece. Usage of the minute hand instead of the second hand is something that allows the reader's mind to realize that this is not as fleeting as it could be. Then the addition of the punctuation brings in the stoppage of the mind once again and yet is not too halting.
the field of dry grass stood still
but a brisk wind kissed our necks
and your lips touched the cartilage
at the edge of my ear
Here, like at the beginning of the piece you chose to forgo capitalization. I like this choice. It adds a softness to the piece and brings the theme more into play. The addition of a fourth line after the previous punctuation is interesting and changes the flow a bit, but in a welcomed way. The imagery once again is breath taking. Simple yet poignant. This, and the mention of the coat in the fist stanza, give a vision of autumn.
we huddled like branches
and settled into the dirt.
Not much to say that hasn't already been said. Ending with a period puts the finish on the piece that is needed. Dirt can be final and mean many things, sending many images into one's mind, but because of the clear direction of the piece the reader pictures two bodies heaped together on a bare patch waiting for the world to notice them.
Wonderful job with this piece.