07-14-2012, 03:47 AM
hello universal
here some thoughts. apologies if i overstep my bounds
with regards to the title: i don't think you need the "about"; it's already clear with the piece
here some thoughts. apologies if i overstep my bounds
with regards to the title: i don't think you need the "about"; it's already clear with the piece
(07-12-2012, 07:11 AM)Universalchild Wrote: Not so sure on the title. I wanted it to sound like it might be a romantic poem, but I think it just sounds too obvious.the story strikes me as a bit too linear and, again, focused a bit too much on this subject (the girl). yes, there are details and it does feels honest, but there is an energy missing in the piece, making it hard for me to connect with
This is more experimental stuff - trying with a bit o' the old free-verse. Tried a total lack of punctuation save for using apostrophes because I couldn't bear to leave them out... Should I? Does it ruin the effect? It's a bit long too.
It's kind of difficult expressing a story like this. This is a real story, it happened to someone I am close to. I hope I did it some justice.
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remember her
her sad jaded guise...need this "her"? the line before carries into this line well
faded laughter
dulled visage
fragile tears
a shade of someone ...maybe you could pick one or two of these details and elaborate?
she could be
anyone...not sure if this is needed..."a shade of someone/ she could be" is interesting and feels strong to me
forever
behind smokey mirrors
she haunted empty spaces
all she had was impotent rage
and shards of glass
nobody knew her
she was unspoken
in blood she whispered
that she was broken by years
of being alone
couldn't bear her own reflection
tried to hide from herself
but to everyone else
invisible
...not sure if you feel it, but to this point it has a "report" feel to it. "she" is the subject of most of the verbs. the attention feels too focused on her; the environment you create feels flat
she asked questions like
wouldn't it be easier to die
marked another notch in flesh
festered like an infected wound
full of pus and spite
underneath a bridge
bones taut beneath her skin
gaunt and desperate
desolate
isolated inside herself
intoxicated
drowned herself in noxious spirits
she had sleeping pills and opiates
which doctors prescribed
they found her huddled in a dark corner
greying skin blistered and swollen
she finally found company
in the form of little black flies
who swarm lovingly around her smile
her hollow eyes stare blankly
frozen
Written only for you to consider.

