06-11-2014, 10:52 PM
The title made me throw up in my mouth a little. I hate poems that are odes to former poets. However, you went the rapper route, which I like. Not sure if the title is fitting then, though. I'd try to do a better title. I wouldn't really call Biggie a poet, and "Fallen Poets" just sounds unoriginal.
Looking at the stars
reciting their bars.
No longer safe within cars.
Continuing with the simple rhymes. I don't mind it. Sort of plays into the whole rap element. However, why would you no longer feel safe in cars? Their deaths were related to fame and possibly gang activity. What of anything do you have in common with their lives? Why would anyone possibly conspire to assassinate you at a red light after a Tyson fight in Vegas?
Thug life.
Drug life.
Slug strife.
Slug strife sounds a little forced.
Solemnly slain soldiers.
Fists rose as
tears fell.
Compton and Bed-Stuy bled becoming
bicoastal battlegrounds.
Pac wasn't from Compton. He was born in Harlem, grew up in Baltimore, moved to the outskirts of San Francisco in high school, and moved to Beverly Hills after becoming famous. He never lived in Compton. That was NWA.
"Dear Mama where is Big Poppa?"
My mother wept
and played Billie Holiday
in honor of streets disciples
from every corner
of thugz mansion.
The Mama/Poppa line wasn't bad. You incorporated both rappers into one line. The ending is pretty much an actual 2pac line. Not sure why you didn't try to incorporate any Biggie lines into it as well. It would have played into the Mama/Papa thing you did to start the stanza. Overall, it sounds sort of childish. There are no specifics about these rappers, yet you cried the day they died. I wonder if you were even alive or knew who they were when you died. Your facts are also a little off.
(06-08-2014, 01:15 AM)Jimmy Stark Wrote: I cried when Biggie and Pac died.Simple little rhymes: cried/died/lied. Also a play on the word lie, from lying in bed to lying/telling mistruths. I like the rhyming. However, I don't know why someone would "lie" about the lives of rappers. You don't know anything about them. And their lives in themselves were fabrications or exaggerations. Usually when you lie about the life someone led, you're trying to convince yourself that they were a better person, so to not taint the memory you have of them. For example: someone's dad was a molester and a drunk and you lie about his evil deeds to try to remember him better. What exactly about the lives of Biggie and Pac are you lying about? What cherished memory are you trying to not taint?
I just lied
lying about their lives.
Looking at the stars
reciting their bars.
No longer safe within cars.
Continuing with the simple rhymes. I don't mind it. Sort of plays into the whole rap element. However, why would you no longer feel safe in cars? Their deaths were related to fame and possibly gang activity. What of anything do you have in common with their lives? Why would anyone possibly conspire to assassinate you at a red light after a Tyson fight in Vegas?
Thug life.
Drug life.
Slug strife.
Slug strife sounds a little forced.
Solemnly slain soldiers.
Fists rose as
tears fell.
Compton and Bed-Stuy bled becoming
bicoastal battlegrounds.
Pac wasn't from Compton. He was born in Harlem, grew up in Baltimore, moved to the outskirts of San Francisco in high school, and moved to Beverly Hills after becoming famous. He never lived in Compton. That was NWA.
"Dear Mama where is Big Poppa?"
My mother wept
and played Billie Holiday
in honor of streets disciples
from every corner
of thugz mansion.
The Mama/Poppa line wasn't bad. You incorporated both rappers into one line. The ending is pretty much an actual 2pac line. Not sure why you didn't try to incorporate any Biggie lines into it as well. It would have played into the Mama/Papa thing you did to start the stanza. Overall, it sounds sort of childish. There are no specifics about these rappers, yet you cried the day they died. I wonder if you were even alive or knew who they were when you died. Your facts are also a little off.