02-16-2017, 11:03 AM
Thank you Lizzie for your valuable and honest critique!! It really helps. I have worked on this for awhile now and tried to keep in mind what you brought out. I added more lines and I hope that didn't muck it up more. I am concerned about the clarity like you mentioned. In some ways I feel like I have two or more poems in one because of meanings I'm trying to convey. Maybe I need to split it up. Also not sure if the rhyming works because its so irregular.
I hated to use cage becuase it felt cliche but couldn't work it out otherwise.
Anyway, all feedback is welcome! I'm not squeamish about negative critique, any and all honesty is much appreciated.
Revision 1
Crystal columns stand reliably stationed
as their sharply-cut facets glimmer in hasten,
scattering recollects into mind, of whats been,
and should be.
This cage - gives illusion of space and light,
but exacts entrapment of days.
Which shade will shine in,
only to glint back out?
Pressed face against
light-infused, glossy and glinting rails,
permeable eyes peering through;
her entranced form pulls away.
Raise of brow, knowingly,
bow of chin, solidly.
She pilfers their thought, concretely:
“You see my asking eyes.“
Those azure spheres used to contain and restrain,
used to hide some that abides.
This time as two trailing Beryl rockets, undocked.
Still, her mortal immured. Glass gridlock.
More still, a beautiful construct.
Even yet, who is the architect?
Regret is so damn delicate.
Free to step forward,
not back?
Transparent bars,
prove most jailing.
Even more revealing.
Solid structures,
prove most trying.
Even more instructing.
Bolt, screw, sprocket and wheel,
a grease marked mechanic
welds her own epochs real.
For someone else.
Wished for machines
do sound supreme,
but toil our being
when no longer a dream.
If she can shatter a way out,
sound the pitch of more pain,
why not shatter what’s come about,
drown the timbre of sorrowful, dried rain?
((( OR, instead of the above stanza:
If she can shatter her way out,
rev the engines of pain,
Why not shatter whats come about,
filter the smog from revving in vain?
A better fit with the theme? )))
Her glazed blues fathom its beauty,
though fantasizing ears hear a smash.
Really, she had a golden ticket;
but this one way crystal time machine,
is not solely hers to crash.
Original
Crystal columns reliably stationed
facets glimmer recollect
what’s been, what should be.
Illusion of space and light
but entrapment of days.
Which shade will shine in?
Pressed face against glass rails,
permeable eyes peering through;
her entranced form pulls away
raise of brow, knowingly,
bow of chin, solidly.
She pilfers thought, concretely:
“You see my asking eyes.“
Times past, they contained and restrained,
used to hide some that abides.
This time, as two ships undocked.
Still she’s immured, glass gridlock.
More still, a beautiful construct.
Even yet, who is the architect?
Regret is so damn delicate.
Free to step forward,
not back?
Transparent bars
prove most jailing
even more revealing
if she can shatter a way out,
sound the pitch of more pain,
why not shatter what’s come about,
drown the timbre of sorrowful, dried rain?
Simple structures
prove most trying
even more instructing
glazed blues fathom beauty,
though ears imagine its smash.
Really, she had a golden ticket;
but this one way crystal time machine,
is not hers to crash.
I hated to use cage becuase it felt cliche but couldn't work it out otherwise.
Anyway, all feedback is welcome! I'm not squeamish about negative critique, any and all honesty is much appreciated.
Revision 1
Crystal columns stand reliably stationed
as their sharply-cut facets glimmer in hasten,
scattering recollects into mind, of whats been,
and should be.
This cage - gives illusion of space and light,
but exacts entrapment of days.
Which shade will shine in,
only to glint back out?
Pressed face against
light-infused, glossy and glinting rails,
permeable eyes peering through;
her entranced form pulls away.
Raise of brow, knowingly,
bow of chin, solidly.
She pilfers their thought, concretely:
“You see my asking eyes.“
Those azure spheres used to contain and restrain,
used to hide some that abides.
This time as two trailing Beryl rockets, undocked.
Still, her mortal immured. Glass gridlock.
More still, a beautiful construct.
Even yet, who is the architect?
Regret is so damn delicate.
Free to step forward,
not back?
Transparent bars,
prove most jailing.
Even more revealing.
Solid structures,
prove most trying.
Even more instructing.
Bolt, screw, sprocket and wheel,
a grease marked mechanic
welds her own epochs real.
For someone else.
Wished for machines
do sound supreme,
but toil our being
when no longer a dream.
If she can shatter a way out,
sound the pitch of more pain,
why not shatter what’s come about,
drown the timbre of sorrowful, dried rain?
((( OR, instead of the above stanza:
If she can shatter her way out,
rev the engines of pain,
Why not shatter whats come about,
filter the smog from revving in vain?
A better fit with the theme? )))
Her glazed blues fathom its beauty,
though fantasizing ears hear a smash.
Really, she had a golden ticket;
but this one way crystal time machine,
is not solely hers to crash.
Original
Crystal columns reliably stationed
facets glimmer recollect
what’s been, what should be.
Illusion of space and light
but entrapment of days.
Which shade will shine in?
Pressed face against glass rails,
permeable eyes peering through;
her entranced form pulls away
raise of brow, knowingly,
bow of chin, solidly.
She pilfers thought, concretely:
“You see my asking eyes.“
Times past, they contained and restrained,
used to hide some that abides.
This time, as two ships undocked.
Still she’s immured, glass gridlock.
More still, a beautiful construct.
Even yet, who is the architect?
Regret is so damn delicate.
Free to step forward,
not back?
Transparent bars
prove most jailing
even more revealing
if she can shatter a way out,
sound the pitch of more pain,
why not shatter what’s come about,
drown the timbre of sorrowful, dried rain?
Simple structures
prove most trying
even more instructing
glazed blues fathom beauty,
though ears imagine its smash.
Really, she had a golden ticket;
but this one way crystal time machine,
is not hers to crash.