Unwritten (First post, a warm hello!)

[billy]

Hi again nightshade255; after the first few reads i felt it was saying a lot in length but not so much in meaning. i left some feedback in the body of the poem.

Hey, i wrote this over a few days and have no one to show it to, so i took a look online for some sort of online dead poets society, and lo and behold! Just want to say hello and thanks in advance for giving this a read. Cheers!


Unwritten

Unwritten is this poem
Until that final verse be spoke.
Unwritten is this life
Until the punch line tells the joke. the opening verse feels a little weak

Unwritten, just like you today
Rising to the morn.
To be written are all the things we say to be written are is redundant and unless you write down all you say, an untruth
Words never to be born. this line feels redundant as it a given fact.

When creation rises to the task what task?
And displays its grandiose the line leaves me wondering what it means
When beauty flows from fingertips
In thickness most verbose
What void exists within this space
What once appeared morose
Uptakes humanities flowered gems
To destroy the sloths pathos sloth's
To fill it now with things unreal
New ideas which would engross
And inspire the children of our years
And rise from comatose.

Slowly now the pages turn
And written now you are
For another chapter be
Engraved in your memoir
Yet here you rise again anew
And through distant eyes afar
You will perceive the world today
Your perspective now ajar
Open up these eyes and see
Embrace new and bizarre
For life regains its will to be
At the dawning of our star.

Flowered gems, the work of man
The toil of skilled hands
Bring unto us the world we see
Contorted by commands
The passion that augments our work
The emotion which withstands
Is what drives our creative side
To take fragmented strands
And polish them with time and care
And procure art that expands
The passion of those who wish to stop
And witness our hearts demands.

And so with that, the artisan
Has dragged the pen with ink
And scrawled upon reality
The perspectives he can think
And shared these thoughts with others
So that they may join the link
Writing in what had been empty
The unwritten pushed to the brink
What purpose then is there to life
If not to share the sync
Of humanities worldviews reflected
In song and dance and drink.

But flowered gems, anew and true
And beautiful while they last
Find their beauty locked in time
When death brings them to the past
For everything is doomed to die
Lets have this truth unmasked
Only in death will we ever see
That beautiful things die fast.

And so what had been come to writ
Now falls to disarray
The dust to dust now to the wind cliche
And blow the past away
Clean the slate and wash the board cliche
Leave space for the next to play
To live and learn and experience
And write what comes their way
Plant flowered gems of passion now
To share until doomsday
For human heart and emotion
Can outlive deaths decay.

What was unwritten now to write
This final verse be played cliche
This life of mine filled with such love
Only ink now could convey.




October 3rd - 2012

because this is in the serious critique forum i have to be harsh and honest. the end rhymes work well with each other but intrinsically they fall short because the poem itself feels weak and overburdened with excessive use of large sounding words phrase that tell us little. when they do they're often cliche. (a phrase that's been said by other previously to your use.)
thanks for the read.