Mango Trees

[expiring_touch]

Today I ate a mango and thought
of your mum, how she peeled it
and cut it for me, so very
painstakingly.
I never could tell
if she liked me enough, all her
stories put on repeat
that I heard. I hope,
she’s ok. I will write
till this - those- these
waves
their incessant drizzle
caught up with me.
I am off my feet. I will write
till this repeated hurt
dissipates.

I know I’m not allowed to miss you,
It’s hardly fair, you know.

I wish the walls of my room
turn inside-out and let
the monsoon rains overturn me,
wash out the stains, fill the throbbing
vessel, large and small, begotten
when starlight filtered through
the wetted roses in Barcelona,
after an afternoon
of giddy love-making,
and you fell sick.

Maybe I did too, and never
admitted it, changing cities,
jumping continents,
running away and towards you.

I will go back to Hamburg and find you there,
as if we’d never left:
First you,
then me, empty-roomed and with a sawn jaw,
and angry anguish I’d use to stab your vocation
and sever
our held hands.

Learning that it is too late is too painful
that’s why it doesn't feel
very different from when I dropped
my hot and desperate tears
on your bed
without stopping.

[Polar Bear]

Heyo - I see you don't have any feedback so I'll offer some. I'm very very new to this so take this all with a shaker of salt.

I like the imagery in S3 and wished there was more of it in the overall poem.

Also, it seems there isn't much to the meter - I can't seem to find a rhythm, except for the first four lines S1, which felt quite flowing to me.

So my desire is more imagery and a more coherent rhythm.

The emotional tone, however, came across fine.

Thank you.

Today I ate a mango and thought
of your mum, how she peeled it
and cut it for me, so very
painstakingly.
I never could tell
if she liked me enough, all her
stories put on repeat
that I heard. I hope,
she’s ok. I will write
till this - those- these
waves
their incessant drizzle
caught up with me.
I am off my feet. I will write
till this repeated hurt
dissipates.

I know I’m not allowed to miss you,
It’s hardly fair, you know.

I wish the walls of my room
turn inside-out and let
the monsoon rains overturn me,
wash out the stains, fill the throbbing
vessel, large and small, begotten
when starlight filtered through
the wetted roses in Barcelona,
after an afternoon
of giddy love-making,
and you fell sick.

Maybe I did too, and never
admitted it, changing cities,
jumping continents,
running away and towards you.

I will go back to Hamburg and find you there,
as if we’d never left:
First you,
then me, empty-roomed and with a sawn jaw,
and angry anguish I’d use to stab your vocation
and sever
our held hands.

Learning that it is too late is too painful
that’s why it doesn't feel
very different from when I dropped
my hot and desperate tears
on your bed
without stopping.

[Mungo man]

Today I ate a mango and thought
of your mum, how she peeled it
and cut it for me, so very
painstakingly. So to start: I enjoy the emotional tone and think it appropriate for the words, but that rhythm is very... Off. Your line breaks seems to be thrown around.
I never could tell
if she liked me enough, all her
stories put on repeat
that I heard. I hope, This comma is not needed and further breaks up the flow of the poem
she’s ok. I will write
till this - those- these
waves
their incessant drizzle
caught up with me. These bottom 8 lines in this stanza have a few grammatical errors. Firstly the 'this - those - these waves their incessant drizzle caught up with me' part doesn't work grammatically. Take a long, hard look at these lines and revise it for clarity. The last line can probably have a stronger word than repeated, but it's your poem :p
I am off my feet. I will write
till this repeated hurt
dissipates.

I know I’m not allowed to miss you, consider a period here instead.
It’s hardly fair, you know.

I wish the walls of my room
turn inside-out and let
the monsoon rains overturn me,
wash out the stains, fill the throbbing
vessel, large and small, begotten
when starlight filtered through
the wetted roses in Barcelona,
after an afternoon
of giddy love-making,
and you fell sick. this stanza is all one sentence... I like the imagery in the last half of the stanza but the beginning is very strange grammatically and doesn't flow well.

Maybe I did too, and never
admitted it, changing cities,
jumping continents,
running away and towards you. HM... The first comma in this stanza is probably not needed. You could omit it and replace did with fell sick. Or another word, again, your poem. And the changing cities part might flow better if you wrote something like 'I changed cities, jumped continents, and ran away from and closer to you.' eh.. My wording is not the best there, but take the idea and see what you can create.

I will go back to Hamburg and find you there,
as if we’d never left:
First you,
then me, empty-roomed and with a sawn jaw,
and angry anguish I’d use to stab your vocation
and sever
our held hands. the line breaks in this stanza are funky and hinder the rhythm more than they aid with the imagery.After the colon is just... I don't know. I like the imagery of empty rooms and severing held hands with emotions, but its executed akwardly. I know you can do better.

Learning that it is too late is too painful
that’s why it doesn't feel this sentence rambles on nearly incoherently. Try changing some words and throwing in some punctuation.
very different from when I dropped
my hot and desperate tears
on your bed
without stopping.

I like the ending and its powerful, but the first half of the stanza overshadows it with its issues.

I hope this feedback helped you in some way and got you thinking about the rhythm and grammar in these poems. And I understand that poems have certain liberties with grammar, but some things make the words much more aesthetically pleasing. If anything in this raises more questions than it answers you can always PM me.

Keep on writing, I dig what you're getting at here.

[Herrera]

Today I ate a mango and thought
of your mum, how she peeled it
and cut it for me, so very
painstakingly.
I never could tell
if she liked me enough, all her
stories put on repeat
that I heard. I hope,
she’s ok. I will write
till this - those- these
waves
their incessant drizzle
caught up with me.
I am off my feet. I will write
till this repeated hurt
dissipates.

I know I’m not allowed to miss you,
It’s hardly fair, you know.

I wish the walls of my room
turn inside-out and let
the monsoon rains overturn me,
wash out the stains, fill the throbbing
vessel, large and small, begotten
when starlight filtered through
the wetted roses in Barcelona,
after an afternoon
of giddy love-making,
and you fell sick.

Maybe I did too, and never
admitted it, changing cities,
jumping continents,
running away and towards you.

I will go back to Hamburg and find you there,
as if we’d never left:
First you,
then me, empty-roomed and with a sawn jaw,
and angry anguish I’d use to stab your vocation
and sever
our held hands.

Learning that it is too late is too painful
that’s why it doesn't feel
very different from when I dropped
my hot and desperate tears
on your bed
without stopping.

very passionate I jsut felt you could have described her more, or at least what it was like to be with her more. very passionate though and I enjoyed it