Posts: 14
Threads: 4
Joined: Sep 2013
Hi, I'm back. I decided to totally scrap a lot of my old poetry because a lot of it was incoherent junk, and tried to write something a little bit better. See if you like it. I did like this one, but I liked the other one I wrote too and it turned out to be trash.
Of many, we are one.
Who are the others then?
They recline amidst the warzones.
Luxury springs from foaming mouths,
And they sip tea steeped in sickle cells.
Born a patriot,
Weeping and cheering their country
From their bedsides.
There are enough hypocrites,
To mourn a dying man,
Yet see others fall like cherries,
And see their souls blossoming in the haze.
We watched them fly with the current,
Never remembered,
Until I met the wind.
Then each voice was a feather,
Thirsting for the sky.
And together, they gave us wings.
[Edit for grammar so I never have to worry about it ever again]
Of many, we are one.
Who are the others then?
They recline amidst the warzones.
Luxury springs from foaming mouths,
And they sip tea steeped in sickle cells.
Born patriots,
Weeping and cheering their country
From their bedsides.
There are enough hypocrites
To mourn a dying man
Yet see others fall like cherries
And see their souls blossoming in the haze.
We watched them fly with the current
Never remembered
Until I met the wind.
Then each voice was a feather,
Thirsting for the sky.
And together, they gave us wings.
This is in Novice, but line by line is on again I've noticed.
Of many, we are one.
Who are the others then?
They recline amidst the the warzones.
Two thes here. This dumb Google Chrome is telling me amidst and warzones aren't words, and it might be right about warzones, but I think it's time warzones gets away with being a word. You can look into it.
Luxury springs from foaming mouths,
And they sip tea steeped in sickle cells.
Born a patriot,
Weeping and cheering their country
From their bedsides.
There are enough hypocrites,
To mourn a dying man,
Yet see others fall like cherries,
And see their souls blossoming in the haze.
We watched them fly with the current,
Never remembered,
Until I met the wind.
Then each voice was a feather,
Thirsting for the sky.
And together, they gave us wings.
There is something here to work with. Maybe more than I'm admitting right now. Still, I think it needs work, and want to read it again and think about it more. Going through it, I didn't have much to say. But maybe I can soon. This happens a lot.
Posts: 14
Threads: 4
Joined: Sep 2013
Thank you for your time. I have checked that warzones is indeed a word, according to Google and Dictionary.com.
Does this poem strike you as an improvement over the last one I posted onto here? Or is it the same quality or worse? I'm really trying to grow and develop as a poet so this would really help.
It comes out clearer. It might still take some time to get at it though. One problem is the punctuation.
This is an example of one of the rough spots:
There are enough hypocrites,
To mourn a dying man,
Yet see others fall like cherries,
And see their souls blossoming in the haze.
It starts to feel fragmented with all the commas. And the comma after hypocrites doesn't need to be there.
Luxury springs from foaming mouths,
And they sip tea steeped in sickle cells.
Born a patriot,
Weeping and cheering their country
From their bedsides.
It might be better to say, born patriots. Since everything else is plural.
If you make changes, you can make a new reply and say so. So it'll get noticed.
I see where two commas might still work
Of many, we are one.
Who are the others then?
They recline amidst the warzones.
Luxury springs from foaming mouths,
And they sip tea steeped in sickle cells.
Born patriots,
Weeping and cheering their country
From their bedsides.
There are enough hypocrites
To mourn a dying man
Yet see others fall like cherries,
And see their souls blossoming in the haze.
We watched them fly with the current,
Never remembered
Until I met the wind.
Then each voice was a feather,
Thirsting for the sky.
And together, they gave us wings.
Where that first comma might go depends on the pace and rhythm you want there.
And see their souls blossoming in the haze.
Could maybe be worded differently.
Of many, we are one.
Who are the others then?
And they sip tea steeped in sickle cells
Those lines seem a little out of place. The second, with sickle cells, could be worked in somehow if you want it in the poem; I kind of like it as it is. The first two lines of the poem don't make for a very strong opening.
The lines about a dying man, and feathers, wind and wings: they seem to go together fine. What song was it you mention in the title?
"Luxury springs from foaming mouths," is a great line and my favorite of the piece. To me, the whole piece speaks to, I guess what you would call, armchair warriors ("they recline amidst the warzones" seems to speak to this) and the general idea of those profiting from war without being involved in the actual hell of war itself.
In terms of flow, just in reading the poem, I feel like there's a natural break before "born patriots." So, perhaps give a paragraph break there to separate the poem up and enable better flow?
You already evoked the idea of recliners, so the line about them cheering from their bedsides seems redundant. Good juxtaposition, however, between falling cherries and blossoming souls of haze.
Of course, I could be completely wrong in my interpretation of this poem, but I thought it was worthwhile, if only a few minor tweaks were made.
|
