10-05-2017, 12:23 AM
Hi, Huckleberry
I'm having some real issues with how you're choosing to handle rhyme in the piece. The rhyme scheme seems inconsistent and all over the place, and in many places the rhymes seem forced. I mean that the content appears tacked on to simply and only accommodate the rhyme. Also, you sometimes abandon rhyming entirely. While you have the option to do all of those things, it doesn't add to the effectiveness of the poem in my opinion.
This is the basic forum so I'll leave it at that and forego doing any line-by-line critique. I would suggest looking for a more consistent pattern and also ask yourself if the content holds together on its own or is solely there to make the rhyme happen.
Best,
Todd
I'm having some real issues with how you're choosing to handle rhyme in the piece. The rhyme scheme seems inconsistent and all over the place, and in many places the rhymes seem forced. I mean that the content appears tacked on to simply and only accommodate the rhyme. Also, you sometimes abandon rhyming entirely. While you have the option to do all of those things, it doesn't add to the effectiveness of the poem in my opinion.
This is the basic forum so I'll leave it at that and forego doing any line-by-line critique. I would suggest looking for a more consistent pattern and also ask yourself if the content holds together on its own or is solely there to make the rhyme happen.
Best,
Todd
(10-03-2017, 09:41 PM)Huckleberry Wrote: Don’t make a noise, don’t break a stick,
A candle without a wick;
Go silently their way along,
Days are so short, nights are so long.
Does it matter when hope is gone
For those willing to be bygone?
Nights are too bright, life is too thick;
There are men who just never sleep.
Their tearless eyes looking aghast,
Knight defending the last turret,
Butterflies lost in the desert,
Princes of ephemeral past,
They freeze at the Lilliputian
Miserly sight of the ocean,
Its nights too bright, its life so thick,
There are men who just never sleep.
There once was a mighty princess,
An Eldorado, a bright star,
Her orbit turned them to ageless,
A wreck, a nothing, a sandbar,
A light house that in the dark
Dreams of sailing home the lost ark.
Nights are too bright, life is a blight;
There are men just waiting to die.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
