Posts: 17
Threads: 5
Joined: Oct 2025
Love flows,
itself a hidden stream
beneath the city
sleeping—
fear and hope
rush downstream,
unseen
but not unfelt.
Joy runs
along a path at dawn,
hungry for the day
to come,
longing for the newborn sun—
a vision
neither commenced
nor yet done.
Grief tears --
no, stabs --
jagged blade,
flash severing flesh,
leaving us to wonder
at the carnage;
realizing it is us,
as we crumble
to the ground.
God spills
from the clouds above,
washing away
crimson tears
lifting what can stand,
leaving the rest:
an offering
to what could not be.
Posts: 1,367
Threads: 218
Joined: Dec 2016
(12-14-2025, 01:58 AM)adat Wrote: Love flows,
itself a hidden stream
beneath the city
sleeping—
carries fear and hope,
unseen but not
unfelt.
Don't necessarily love the opening here. Love flows feels cliche which is not a great way to open and comparing it to a stream just makes me think of the many many songs comparing love to a river.
Then we just run flat into a real problem - "carries" is a dangling participle and neither option is that interesting. Is love carrying fear and hope? It is just abstraction overload at this point - abstractions that say and lead to nothing.
"itself" adds nothing
"unseen but not unfelt" is just a throwaway line
Quote:Joy runs
along a path at dawn,
hungry for the day
to come,
longing for the newborn sun—
a fever dream
commenced or done.
Yah, the abstractions just carry along and continue to not say anything new or interesting. Anthromorphing joy right after the opening with the love fear and hope - all of this feels tired, there is no new imagery - it lacks the visceral experience that these types of abstractions require in poetry to bring them to life.
I would challenge any writer to write an interesting poem with the term "fever dream"
I don't think "commenced or done" adds a single thing other than some confusion and a wasted line.
Quote:God spills
from the pounding rain,
glass that cuts
through flesh once
stilled,
bringing that which is
alive—
waking that which will be
woken.
sadly, it does not get better. The whole poem is a series of tired phrases and images that really dont go anywhere or say anything interesting. Perhaps it would do well in an inspirationsl plaque to hang in the kitchen if you were attempting to recreate a kitchen from the 1980's but I am not sure.
"pounding rain" - cliche
"glass that cuts " - where did this come from and why do we need to mention that it cuts?
"flesh once stilled" - faux poetic
"waking that which will be woken" - well, don't hold the reader in suspense, tell us what it is
I am not sure where to start with a rewrite but I think it would be with intent. What exactly would you like to say? What is an interesting metaphor or way to say it?
Thanks
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Joined: Dec 2025
On the contrary, I love the opening, but it feels like the imagery collapses towards the end. It needs to elaborate on the motif of "waking rain" and its relation to affecting the feelings of love and joy. Possibly adding another penultimate block by breaking the last one in two. The first two convey the atmosphere quite vividly—love as a stream unseen but not unfelt, joy hungering for the newborn sun—but the last part does feel tongue-tied, and not just linguistically.
Posts: 17
Threads: 5
Joined: Oct 2025
Thanks for taking the time to comment; i am not sure where to go with your feedback, as it seems you disliked absolutely everything 
that said, so it goes, sometimes, right?
(12-27-2025, 10:40 AM)milo Wrote: (12-14-2025, 01:58 AM)adat Wrote: Love flows,
itself a hidden stream
beneath the city
sleeping—
carries fear and hope,
unseen but not
unfelt.
Don't necessarily love the opening here. Love flows feels cliche which is not a great way to open and comparing it to a stream just makes me think of the many many songs comparing love to a river.
Then we just run flat into a real problem - "carries" is a dangling participle and neither option is that interesting. Is love carrying fear and hope? It is just abstraction overload at this point - abstractions that say and lead to nothing.
"itself" adds nothing
"unseen but not unfelt" is just a throwaway line
Quote:Joy runs
along a path at dawn,
hungry for the day
to come,
longing for the newborn sun—
a fever dream
commenced or done.
Yah, the abstractions just carry along and continue to not say anything new or interesting. Anthromorphing joy right after the opening with the love fear and hope - all of this feels tired, there is no new imagery - it lacks the visceral experience that these types of abstractions require in poetry to bring them to life.
I would challenge any writer to write an interesting poem with the term "fever dream"
I don't think "commenced or done" adds a single thing other than some confusion and a wasted line.
Quote:God spills
from the pounding rain,
glass that cuts
through flesh once
stilled,
bringing that which is
alive—
waking that which will be
woken.
sadly, it does not get better. The whole poem is a series of tired phrases and images that really dont go anywhere or say anything interesting. Perhaps it would do well in an inspirationsl plaque to hang in the kitchen if you were attempting to recreate a kitchen from the 1980's but I am not sure.
"pounding rain" - cliche
"glass that cuts " - where did this come from and why do we need to mention that it cuts?
"flesh once stilled" - faux poetic
"waking that which will be woken" - well, don't hold the reader in suspense, tell us what it is
I am not sure where to start with a rewrite but I think it would be with intent. What exactly would you like to say? What is an interesting metaphor or way to say it?
Thanks
Thanks for your feedback, i will try a different tack with the last bit
(12-31-2025, 11:14 PM)Nachtfrost Wrote: On the contrary, I love the opening, but it feels like the imagery collapses towards the end. It needs to elaborate on the motif of "waking rain" and its relation to affecting the feelings of love and joy. Possibly adding another penultimate block by breaking the last one in two. The first two convey the atmosphere quite vividly—love as a stream unseen but not unfelt, joy hungering for the newborn sun—but the last part does feel tongue-tied, and not just linguistically.
Posts: 1,367
Threads: 218
Joined: Dec 2016
Let me take a look through a little later and see some areas to call out that I liked. Are there any specific areas you would like to focus on or any direction you would like to take? Unfortunately, not all poetry will resonate with all readers.
Thanks
Posts: 24
Threads: 8
Joined: Jan 2026
Hi, I really enjoyed this, some notes:
[quote="adat" pid='276268' dateline='1765645124']
Love flows,
itself a hidden stream
beneath the city
sleeping—
fear and hope
rush downstream,
unseen
but not unfelt.
Strong image, and love does take hope and fear with it wherever it goes. One issue: Is love or the city sleeping? If love maybe comma after city. If city maybe a swap to “sleeping city.”
Joy runs
along a path at dawn,
hungry for the day
to come,
longing for the newborn sun—
a vision
neither commenced
nor yet done.
The poem really comes alive for me here, I’m right with joy. Lovely meter and sonics: dawn, come, sun, vision, done.
Grief tears --
no, stabs --
jagged blade,
flash severing flesh,
leaving us to wonder
at the carnage;
realizing it is us,
as we crumble
to the ground.
I don’t like having to choose between tears and stabs. If you’re looking for the double meaning of tears I think you could use it better. As a whole, it’s not working for me.
God spills
from the clouds above,
washing away
crimson tears
lifting what can stand,
leaving the rest:
an offering
to what could not be.
I think the first four lines could be more original, enjoy the last four.
I hope this helps in some way, thanks for the read.
Posts: 2
Threads: 1
Joined: Jan 2026
(12-14-2025, 01:58 AM)adat Wrote: Love flows,
itself a hidden stream
beneath the city
sleeping—
fear and hope
rush downstream,
unseen
but not unfelt.
Joy runs
along a path at dawn,
hungry for the day
to come,
longing for the newborn sun—
a vision
neither commenced
nor yet done.
Grief tears --
no, stabs --
jagged blade,
flash severing flesh,
leaving us to wonder
at the carnage;
realizing it is us,
as we crumble
to the ground.
Stabs doesn't make sense if you then go on to say severing. Tears would be more appropriate.
God spills
from the clouds above,
washing away
crimson tears
lifting what can stand,
leaving the rest:
an offering
to what could not be.
"Glass that cuts" I don't really see how it relates to the rest of the stanza. Either cut it out or change it to create a better flow to the beginning of the stanza.
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