08-11-2016, 08:36 AM
Hello Lizzie!
I really like this.
It reminds me of a Dr. Who episode called "The Silence" with aliens lurking about in corners where we can't see them.
We should stop looking UP to find them ... they're already here ... that sort of thing.
I saw with the moving repetitions that this is probably some sort of specific form of poem with a proper name to go with it. And if that was the main point, then don't let me mess up the thing that it is.
But honestly, I think I would like this poem better without the repetitions. For me, the repetition was distracting and got in the way of my understanding of the heart of the poem. I sliced out all the repeated lines, and tried to puzzle it back together ... just playing with it ... sorry if I got the order wrong, but I was trying to see what it would look like as a leaner, more direct version of itself:
I wonder if I'll know when I see it,
so much is still formless and void.
My eyes always try to harmonize,
and I don't even know what I’m looking for.
Maybe it's not possible to see without words.
Familiarity parents the mind,
and I miss the complexion I don't expect. (I love this line)
I'm trying to notice my thoughts like children, (and this one)
and trying to see the other face in the illusion.
I always repeat the same words to my reflection in the mirror,
Maybe I’ll never recognize them in the dark spaces.
They say it could take any form;
alien lives could last a second,
or for eternity.
I think it's in the white space.
Again, I'm just playing in your sandbox because the toys were shiny and caught my attention.
I do like the original poem the way it is as well. (Though in the first line I think you should take out "my self" because I kept reading it as something like, you wouldn't know who YOU were.) Anyway ... mostly just wanted to say that I like it, and also, thanks for letting me play with it ... even though I forgot to ask for permission first.... 
--Quix
I really like this.
It reminds me of a Dr. Who episode called "The Silence" with aliens lurking about in corners where we can't see them.
We should stop looking UP to find them ... they're already here ... that sort of thing.
I saw with the moving repetitions that this is probably some sort of specific form of poem with a proper name to go with it. And if that was the main point, then don't let me mess up the thing that it is.
But honestly, I think I would like this poem better without the repetitions. For me, the repetition was distracting and got in the way of my understanding of the heart of the poem. I sliced out all the repeated lines, and tried to puzzle it back together ... just playing with it ... sorry if I got the order wrong, but I was trying to see what it would look like as a leaner, more direct version of itself: I wonder if I'll know when I see it,
so much is still formless and void.
My eyes always try to harmonize,
and I don't even know what I’m looking for.
Maybe it's not possible to see without words.
Familiarity parents the mind,
and I miss the complexion I don't expect. (I love this line)
I'm trying to notice my thoughts like children, (and this one)
and trying to see the other face in the illusion.
I always repeat the same words to my reflection in the mirror,
Maybe I’ll never recognize them in the dark spaces.
They say it could take any form;
alien lives could last a second,
or for eternity.
I think it's in the white space.
Again, I'm just playing in your sandbox because the toys were shiny and caught my attention.
I do like the original poem the way it is as well. (Though in the first line I think you should take out "my self" because I kept reading it as something like, you wouldn't know who YOU were.) Anyway ... mostly just wanted to say that I like it, and also, thanks for letting me play with it ... even though I forgot to ask for permission first.... --Quix
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara