04-12-2016, 06:14 AM
I fail to astound you, but my words still pour forth as a lifetime can exist in the space between your eyes and mine.
For me this is a bit of a non-sequitur. What does "words still pour out" have to do with "a lifetime...exist(ing) in the space between your eyes and mine. I'm not sure this is a workable image. These are two separate thoughts.
I fail to impress you with my words. A lifetime exist in the space between your eyes and mine.
I am a mendicant of love
I question the word "mendicant" for two reasons. It does not seem to really fit with the wording of the rest of the poem, except stigmata (more on that later) and it is not really used properly. The speaker seems more of a demander of love rather than a "beggar" of love, or at least something in between.
hands scarred in stigmata of passion, (period)
There is no such things as hands scarred by passion, stigmata or otherwise.
Maybe:
These hands drink from this cup, bitter and sweet,
creating music to avoid reaching for that which they will never hold.
I can make love without touching -- (why are you using the double hyphen, what is the rationale?)
keep smiling
laugh I pray (To whom are these last two line addressed?)
_____________________________________________________________________________________
It is better than the last piece I read of yours. This one has a character the reader can invest in, if only slimly So in that sense it is a better poem. That it is a love poem I cannot condone, as the writer shows not the slightest hint of being mature enough (poetry wise) to handle the form. The poem itself is one large cliche. It is hard enough not to simply parrot other people's ideas when one starts writing, but with love poetry, it is impossible not to do so.
Best,
dale
For me this is a bit of a non-sequitur. What does "words still pour out" have to do with "a lifetime...exist(ing) in the space between your eyes and mine. I'm not sure this is a workable image. These are two separate thoughts.
I fail to impress you with my words. A lifetime exist in the space between your eyes and mine.
I am a mendicant of love
I question the word "mendicant" for two reasons. It does not seem to really fit with the wording of the rest of the poem, except stigmata (more on that later) and it is not really used properly. The speaker seems more of a demander of love rather than a "beggar" of love, or at least something in between.
hands scarred in stigmata of passion, (period)
There is no such things as hands scarred by passion, stigmata or otherwise.
Maybe:
These hands drink from this cup, bitter and sweet,
creating music to avoid reaching for that which they will never hold.
I can make love without touching -- (why are you using the double hyphen, what is the rationale?)
keep smiling
laugh I pray (To whom are these last two line addressed?)
_____________________________________________________________________________________
It is better than the last piece I read of yours. This one has a character the reader can invest in, if only slimly So in that sense it is a better poem. That it is a love poem I cannot condone, as the writer shows not the slightest hint of being mature enough (poetry wise) to handle the form. The poem itself is one large cliche. It is hard enough not to simply parrot other people's ideas when one starts writing, but with love poetry, it is impossible not to do so.
Best,
dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.