08-03-2013, 07:49 AM
(08-01-2013, 10:52 PM)jdguyb Wrote: He enters the morgue for the first time,Yes, I see fit. This is all concept but no control.
not knowing what horrors he will see.
He looks for something to mime,
Something to be.
He knows the job description,
Cut up bodies, learn what the killing blow was.
What is the encryption?
Well lets get to it, lets break out the saws.
His first body.
He's never tasted deaths sweet stagnant air.
The tools he uses are not shoddy,
Is this really fair?
His first candidate,
A young man of 20.
If only he knew why he messes with blood coagulate
Something doesn't seem right.
He pauses and has a sense of conscience.
He cant go through with it.
Something doesn't make sense.
He walks out and goes home to have a fit.
this is my first post on the mild critique board. Please honest feedback. I don't know If I'm ready for this level of poetry. Feel free to move It to the novice forum if you see fit
Do not despair.What you have done is let your desire to tell a story overwhelm your poetry. Actually, there is no poetry apparent. Let's just look at this piece through filters. Does it rhyme consistently? That is, does it have a fixed rhyme scheme? No. (20/right?) That's OK. It does not need to though to rhyme sometimes and then not is usually a sign of failed intentions. Let it pass. Does it have a firm meter? No. In fact, there is no structured rhythm at all. That's OK. Let's call it free-verse prose. What about metaphors,similes, imagery? Nope. Not even a jot. That's OK but it does make the piece a little barren...if you see what I mean. I hope this doesn't seem to be a sarcastic crit...I mean, if you disagree with anything please tell me where I am wrong. Look, an assumption. I assume you will agree with my comments...they are all self-evident and obvious. Yes. Obvious. Hmmm. That begs a question. If you agree with me, why post it as it is?
Give it a line by line going over. You have a story to tell and a wish to tell it well. Write a poem.
With trepidation he enters the morgue;
horrors imagined filling in his thoughts
like some ghastly and gruesome smorgasbord,
that he cannot devour, etiquette still not taught
...or something.
Best,
tectak