Critique (edit)

[brynmawr1]

The me that is now
was born in the dark 
of an almost dawn.
 
Drifting between the dream
and not, I became awake
and began to see,  
 
for now, only the shadows
of what exits at the in-between,
the seam of the world.
 
I shared this new sight
for others to read,
such a soft under belly
exposed.
 
And I did bleed.
Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

The me that is now

was born in the dark 

of an almost dawn.

 

Drifting between the dream

and the not, I became awake

and began to see,  

 

for now, only the shadows

of what exits at the in-between,

the seam of the world.

 

I shared this new sight

for others to read,

to say their words.

 

And I did bleed.

Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

[TranquillityBase]

The me that is now
was born in the dark 
of an almost dawn.
 
Drifting between the dream
and the not, I became awake
and began to see,  
 
for now, only the shadows
of what exits at the in-between,
the seam of the world.
 
I shared this new sight
for others to read,
to say their words.
 
And I did bleed.
Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

I read this one before I got to the Central Park poem.  It's a very different creature!  I like it very much, although I'm not sure what you mean in that 4th stanza.  How is it you are saying the reader's words?

Tim

[brynmawr1]

The me that is now
was born in the dark 
of an almost dawn.
 
Drifting between the dream
and the not, I became awake
and began to see,  
 
for now, only the shadows
of what exits at the in-between,
the seam of the world.
 
I shared this new sight
for others to read,
to say their words.
 
And I did bleed.
Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

I read this one before I got to the Central Park poem.  It's a very different creature!  I like it very much, although I'm not sure what you mean in that 4th stanza.  How is it you are saying the reader's words?

Tim

Hi Tim,
I see how that 4th stanza could be confusing.  I will try to make it more clear.  Helpful as always.
Take care,
steve

[CRNDLSM]

I like your poem here, it reminds me of the anxiety submitting my first post here and then taking the criticisms too personally, then reaping the benefits and coming back for more.  Perhaps there's something else you could title it to apply to something else more than specifically critique.  Unless I'm being too literal in my reading

The me that is now
was born in the dark 
of an almost dawn.
 
Drifting between the dream
and not, I became awake
and began to see,  
 
for now, only the shadows
of what exits at the in-between,
the seam of the world.
 
I shared this new sight
for others to read,
such a soft under belly
exposed.
 
And I did bleed.
Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

The me that is now

was born in the dark 

of an almost dawn.

 

Drifting between the dream

and the not, I became awake

and began to see,  

 

for now, only the shadows

of what exits at the in-between,

the seam of the world.

 

I shared this new sight

for others to read,

to say their words.

 

And I did bleed.

Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

[brynmawr1]

I like your poem here, it reminds me of the anxiety submitting my first post here and then taking the criticisms too personally, then reaping the benefits and coming back for more.  Perhaps there's something else you could title it to apply to something else more than specifically critique.  Unless I'm being too literal in my reading

The me that is now
was born in the dark 
of an almost dawn.
 
Drifting between the dream
and not, I became awake
and began to see,  
 
for now, only the shadows
of what exits at the in-between,
the seam of the world.
 
I shared this new sight
for others to read,
such a soft under belly
exposed.
 
And I did bleed.
Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

The me that is now

was born in the dark 

of an almost dawn.

 

Drifting between the dream

and the not, I became awake

and began to see,  

 

for now, only the shadows

of what exits at the in-between,

the seam of the world.

 

I shared this new sight

for others to read,

to say their words.

 

And I did bleed.

Only to find myself
hungry for my own blood.

Hi CRNDLSM,
I am glad you liked it.  You aren't being too literal.  The poem comes from exactly your experience (and mine).  I find writing poetry and posting it like playing strip poker with strangers with all your cards on the table.   I wrote this months ago forgetting I had even written it.  I will think on the title.  I hadn't thought about trying to generalize it.  Suggestions?
Thanks for your comments,
steve