Pages

[shy_symphony]

Any feedback is welcome and much appreciated!




Long before scattered pages and cracked memories
made their home in these heart-houses,
there was a placed we each lived,
tattered and old, yet familiar.
Before long it became a distant place, unreachable.


Suddenly, in the midst of hurling tides that rattled my core,
I washed upon your shores like a drunken boat at sea,
my livelihood became a mirror of what it was before

Maybe this fate was written for us,
two perfect players whose webs intertwine like constellations;
This illuminance casts shadows over ever lonely corner.

Maybe we are to be blinded to all
but the universe reflected in the other's gaze.

Surely you were cast upon me
with wicked spells of infatuation
to grace me with heartstrings trailing behind me,
and if I fall they catch me. cradle me, create home for me.

This life has been blessed with your delicate soul,
your fire-glazed passions,
your winged mind that reaches the brim of humanity and returns unscathed.

Your radiating love compels me,
I finally return to that tattered home
with a guiding soul beside me.

[tectak]

Any feedback is welcome and much appreciated!




Long before scattered pages and cracked memories Poetic opener usually indicates a poetic follow up. What this line lacks in meter(or dare I say it, rhythm) is not compensated  by uncertain imagery. Admittedly, it is not possible to determine a series from only two terms but if this IS to be by some definition  a poem, then you need to convince this reader. Still, I am drawn in.
made their home in these heart-houses, Again, though I like the poetic intent in "heart-houses" I do not know what it means...and the hyphen makes me think I should. So I call foul. "These" is not definitive. I am tempted to ask which?
there was a placed we each lived,
tattered and old, yet familiar. Why the contra-conditional "yet"? "and"surely?
Before long it became a distant place, unreachable. OK. Read what you have written to a Big Issue purveyor...what, in this stanza, have you transmitted in terms of information? The abstractions are manifold. L1-When?, L2-What?, L3-Who?, L4-Where? Do you get my drift. The question begs another question which begs another until.....


Suddenly, in the midst of hurling tides that rattled my core, WHOA! WTF happened? Huge disconnect. Is this the same poem? Are you the same writer? You have gone metaphorically OTT in this stanza. "Suddenly" is a child's story-book staple. Lose it. In the induced rush caused by the word you have drowned in a sea of metaphors. Hurling tides? Wha? Wh?... no idea what this means. Even "spring" tides don't hurl....more likely creep up...er...and up a bit more. No to this metaphor. It is not clarifying
I washed upon your shores like a drunken boat at sea, Good line start if cliched....but oh my goodness what follows is a shipwreck (metaphor for a car crash). You have compared an apple and a banana without using the word fruit. You washed up on shore...how is that like a boat at sea? Be VERY careful with metaphorical comparisons. The moon was like a silver dollar...fine. The moon hung in the sky like a silver dollar...fine. The moon hung in the sky like a silver dollar,  burning a hole in my pocket...not fine
my livelihood became a mirror of what it was before Really? Er, what was it before, your career, apart from laterally inverted, that is. Huh? No to this simile. It does not clarify

Maybe this fate was written for us,
two perfect players whose webs intertwine like constellations;
This illuminance casts shadows over ever lonely corner. You are now getting tired. This stanza is complete gobbledygook.What fate? What players? Are you arachnids? What on earth (hmmmm...but you started it) is an intertwined constellation?What illuminance? In fact, what  bloody illuminance casts shadows over ever lonely corner...beats me. Kindly, please read out loud what you write and HEAR what you have written. You owe it to yourself.

Maybe we are to be blinded to all
but the universe reflected in the other's gaze.Again, this seems poetic but it is now in isolation. This IS the poem...but next, oh oh oh.

Surely you were cast upon me...and don't call me surely
with wicked spells of infatuation
to grace me with heartstrings trailing behind me,
and if I fall they catch me. cradle me, create home for me. You have now lost me and I am glad

This life has been blessed with your delicate soul,
your fire-glazed passions,
your winged mind that reaches the brim of humanity and returns unscathed.

Your radiating love compels me,
I finally return to that tattered home
with a guiding soul beside me.

Hi.
No. This is a tough subject and you have tried to  write it poetically. Love and poetry are almost mutually exclusive and only the very skilled can  carry it off....an even then when not in love.
Perhaps you should try paring this down to a disciplined write...you do not need to rhyme but just try to bring some gentle rhythm in to the piece. Avoid hyperbole and abstraction. They are poor  bedfellows. Watch out for over modification of easily understood nouns.  It becomes repetitive and loses impact.
Don't give up.
Best,
tectak

[onepapa]

Any feedback is welcome and much appreciated!




Long before scattered pages and cracked memories
made their home in these heart-houses,
there was a placed we each lived,
tattered and old, yet familiar.
Before long it became a distant place, unreachable.


Suddenly, in the midst of hurling tides that rattled my core,
I washed upon your shores like a drunken boat at sea,
my livelihood became a mirror of what it was before

Maybe this fate was written for us,
two perfect players whose webs intertwine like constellations;
This illuminance casts shadows over ever lonely corner.

Maybe we are to be blinded to all
but the universe reflected in the other's gaze.

Surely you were cast upon me
with wicked spells of infatuation
to grace me with heartstrings trailing behind me,
and if I fall they catch me. cradle me, create home for me.

This life has been blessed with your delicate soul,
your fire-glazed passions,
your winged mind that reaches the brim of humanity and returns unscathed.

Your radiating love compels me,
I finally return to that tattered home
with a guiding soul beside me.

Shy,

Here are a few comments.

The number of lines in each stanza are erratic and that tends to throw the reader off. You would be better served to use the same number of lines or a pattern of different numbers of lines. This is 5/3/3/2/4/3/3.

There is a typo in line 3 of S1. At least I hope it is a typo. You need to seriously proofread before you post.

The punctuation is erratic. You omit periods and commas in obvious places and this should be an easy fix.

You should strive to avoid using clichés like "rattled my core", "washed upon your shores" and "fate was written". You don't need to avoid them entirely as sometimes nothing else will work but it is worth the effort to find new and better ways to say what you mean.

You picked a very tough subject that new poets often crash upon. Keep writing and working.

onepapa

[Nathan Sage]

First and foremost, I would suggest working on the arrangement of the verses. Just putting yourself in the mind of the reader and reading it out loud would help. The first line kind of just throws me off because it is abruptly cut off in the middle. The poem itself flows a lot better after the first section, but the beginning is the most important just to draw the reader in. Good work so far!

[fromcancertocapricorn]

Any feedback is welcome and much appreciated!




Long before scattered pages and cracked memories
made their home in these heart-houses,
there was a placed we each lived,
tattered and old, yet familiar. < I understand what you're trying to get at, but the words you use like "tattered and old, yet familiar" seem a little bit familiar themselves.
Before long it became a distant place, unreachable.


Suddenly, in the midst of hurling tides that rattled my core,
I washed upon your shores like a drunken boat at sea,
my livelihood became a mirror of what it was before

Maybe this fate was written for us,
two perfect players whose webs intertwine like constellations;
This illuminance casts shadows over ever lonely corner.

Maybe we are to be blinded to all
but the universe reflected in the other's gaze.

Surely you were cast upon me
with wicked spells of infatuation
to grace me with heartstrings trailing behind me,
and if I fall they catch me. cradle me, create home for me.

This life has been blessed with your delicate soul,
your fire-glazed passions,
your winged mind that reaches the brim of humanity and returns unscathed.

Your radiating love compels me,
I finally return to that tattered home
with a guiding soul beside me. < I don't really like this resolution, it seems a little unoriginal and to eager to resolve the poems issues.>

Overall, this poem is just a little too banal for my tastes. The idea seems like something explored before. However, the poem is very readable and I can appreciate that tremendously.

[hopefularahant]

Any feedback is welcome and much appreciated!




Long before scattered pages and cracked memories
made their home in these heart-houses,
there was a placed we each lived,
tattered and old, yet familiar.
Before long it became a distant place, unreachable.


Suddenly, in the midst of hurling tides that rattled my core,
I washed upon your shores like a drunken boat at sea,
my livelihood became a mirror of what it was before

Maybe this fate was written for us,
two perfect players whose webs intertwine like constellations;
This illuminance casts shadows over ever lonely corner.

Maybe we are to be blinded to all
but the universe reflected in the other's gaze.

Surely you were cast upon me
with wicked spells of infatuation
to grace me with heartstrings trailing behind me,
and if I fall they catch me. cradle me, create home for me.

This life has been blessed with your delicate soul,
your fire-glazed passions,
your winged mind that reaches the brim of humanity and returns unscathed.

Your radiating love compels me,
I finally return to that tattered home
with a guiding soul beside me.

Theres alot of heigthened language and poetic wordage in this poem that i like, but all of it feels disconnected because of the lost meaning. the poem is too poetic, so the meaning seems to be lost to anyone but the wrtier. also, your lines have lost alot of the flow due to the lack of meter. some of your lines are twice as long as the ones before them, and the syllables are all over the place. also, the line breaks seem to be very odddly placed in some cases, as well as the sanza lengths. theres not alot of symmetry, which i love in poetry, so that might just be my bent. other than that you have alot of good word choices, but too many intense words kind of was out all the others.

[3zu]

poem opens with place - "Long before..." a stretch of time is in view, "long" -
decades or centuries does not matter except as "scattered pages...cracked memories" making homes in "heart-houses" - but such place became "unreachable" - having invoked the presence of this the poet must now ramp up, warpspeed Mr. Zulu ! - to emerge in the present "Suddenly" where "hurling tides" rattle our core - ... ok, it goes on in this matter to the end - what has happened here is our (or the) love of words has made us drunk with vision - every writer faces this enemy, or obstacle, every time he/she picks up a pen or approaches a keyboard - after all the shining metaphors here, all the flights of fancy, we come to the final stanza where,

"I finally return to that tattered home
with a guiding soul beside me"

... which, according to the final line of the first stanza is, "unreachable"
a dichotomy with no hope of even an imaginative leap of transcendance can cross -

perhaps less would do more - less vision, more faith -
less sky walking, more focus on what is possible

3zu out -
write on, poets, write on !