Eleutheromania

[Flowerchild1093]

Waves cascade, blurring into a sea of purple that surrounds me like a tomb.
A bed full of glitter before my eyes sends my mind into another galaxy, worlds away, my heart's escape.

Precipitation greets my skin like an old friend.
Paint chips are memories that float away like dust on the wind.

Harsh words pour into my ears like sand through an hourglass;
filling my head as time dwindles away.

I am as no one passing through to a reservation for pushing daisies.

Time stretches on for days like a runaway train.
Regrets consume me like yesterday's scraps;
A thick cloud of angst enters my lungs as they beg for release.

Fear intercepts rationality and it envelopes me inside of itself like a letter to someone long forgotten.
Familiarity is like a stranger to me as all I have known is a shadow of who I have become.

The burden weighs heavy on my soul as I hear a forlorn melody whispered into my lips;

"Come out and play," coax the ghosts of my past.

My insecurities faltering, whisking me away into another life.
On the other side of the sheets I am as I was, once.

My heart gives way to despair.

Did I really know all along?

[joecarey123]

Hi again Flowerchild, and welcome to a fellow "newbie"! I thought this piece was really emotive, and some of your language is really powerful. I've outlined my thoughts below:

Waves cascade, blurring into a sea of purple that surrounds me like a tomb.      A strong image, which sets the tone for freedom vs death. 
A bed full of glitter before my eyes sends my mind into another galaxy, worlds away, my heart's escape.      

Precipitation greets my skin like an old friend.
Paint chips are memories that float away like dust on the wind.               Again, a mixture between the positive and the old/decaying?

Harsh words pour into my ears like sand through an hourglass;              The sensory language here is strong. 
filling my head as time dwindles away.

I am as no one passing through to a reservation for pushing daisies.  This is the only line I'm not too fond of - feels a bit clunky to me? But just my opinion. 

Time stretches on for days like a runaway train.
Regrets consume me like yesterday's scraps;    Would the scraps consume? or be consumed?
a thick cloud of angst enters my lungs as they beg for release.

Fear intercepts rationality and it envelopes me inside of itself like a letter to someone long forgotten.  Delicious language here!
Familiarity is like a stranger to me as all I have known is a shadow of who I have become.

The burden weighs heavy on my soul as I hear a forlorn melody whispered into my lips;

"Come out and play," coax the ghosts of my past.

My insecurities faltering, whisking me away into another life.
On the other side of the sheets I am as I was, once. 

My heart gives way to despair.

Did I really know all along?

There's a lot going on here - thanks for sharing! Would love to know what inspired it.

[ellajam]

Hi, Flowerchild. Despair is as hard as love for a topic to be original with. I feel the poem stretching for originally but the combination of excessive similes/metaphors and walking the edges of cliches isn't working for me. Some notes below:

Waves cascade, blurring into a sea of purple that surrounds me like a tomb.
A bed full of glitter before my eyes sends my mind into another galaxy, worlds away, my heart's escape.If you give me only "waves" and "sea" in the opening I think ocean, floating, drowning. I can't get the "purple" The only thing I can make of "a bed of glitter" is the sun on the water, but in the next line it's raining. Maybe you can condense this into a solid image.


Precipitation greets my skin like an old friend.
Paint chips are memories that float away like dust on the wind.
I am lost on the paint chips, "dust on the wind" is cliche.

Harsh words pour into my ears like sand through an hourglass;
filling my head as time dwindles away.
"sands through an hourglass" is cliche, though you might be able to work with the idea and image in a unique way.


I am as no one passing through to a reservation for pushing daisies.

Time stretches on for days like a runaway train.
Regrets consume me like yesterday's scraps;
a thick cloud of angst enters my lungs as they beg for release.

Fear intercepts rationality and it envelopes me inside of itself like a letter to someone long forgotten.
Familiarity is like a stranger to me as all I have known is a shadow of who I have become.

The burden weighs heavy on my soul as I hear a forlorn melody whispered into my lips;

"Come out and play," coax the ghosts of my past.

My insecurities faltering, whisking me away into another life.
On the other side of the sheets I am as I was, once.

My heart gives way to despair.

Did I really know all along?

I'll stop there, you get the idea. Welcome to the Pen.

Oh, and hit edit on your post to correct the formatting if it's not intentional.

[The Four-Eyed Cat]

Hey Flower! Thanks for sharing this amazing piece with us! I'm gonna go a bit more in detail down below!

Waves cascade, blurring into a sea of purple that surrounds me like a tomb.                                                      Simply brilliant choice of words that already introduces 
A bed full of glitter before my eyes sends my mind into another galaxy, worlds away, my heart's escape.           the reader to a gradient of despair you refer to later on.

Precipitation greets my skin like an old friend.
Paint chips are memories that float away like dust on the wind.

Harsh words pour into my ears like sand through an hourglass;                                                                        Lovely image!
filling my head as time dwindles away.

I am as no one passing through to a reservation for pushing daisies.                                                             I've changed the formatting for these couple stanzas so comment-
                                                                                                                                                                     ing would be easier. For reader's pleasure, i'd recommend you 
Time stretches on for days like a runaway train.                                                                                             doing the same.
Regrets consume me like yesterday's scraps;
a thick cloud of angst enters my lungs as they beg for release.                                                                      Perhaps add a comma after 'passing'? (couple lines above)
                                                                                                                                                                    
Fear intercepts rationality and it envelopes me inside of itself like a letter to someone long forgotten.
Familiarity is like a stranger to me as all I have known is a shadow of who I have become.                            Lovely play on words with familiarity/stranger                   

The burden weighs heavy on my soul as I hear a forlorn melody whispered into my lips;

"Come out and play," coax the ghosts of my past.

My insecurities faltering, whisking me away into another life.
On the other side of the sheets I am as I was, once.

My heart gives way to despair.

Did I really know all along?                                                                                                                    I think that by turning the question into a statement (for example; but I                                                                                                                                                              knew all  along) would increase the gravity of the poem, thus fitting the [b]                                                                                                                                                               theme of  despair more.[/b]

All in all, this is a great piece of work. It struck a certain emotional chord with me that made me appreciate the Poem even more.  as i especially adore plays on words, i'm happy to have found a couple here. Please keep writing, as i'm looking forward to your next work!

[Flowerchild1093]

Thanks for the advice Joe and Ella! Everything in the poem relates back to an experience for me, a little bit like an inside secret, which could be why certain things don't make as much practical sense, and I meant it to be a bit cryptic in that way. Sorry if it's too confusing! I'll see what I could do to make it a bit more clear using your notes. And thank you for the tip on editing Ella! I wasn't sure why that happened.

[Tiger the Lion]

Thanks for the advice Joe and Ella! Everything in the poem relates back to an experience for me, (this is good, but as a poet you need to find a way to share it with your readers without encroaching on your personal boundaries) a little bit like an inside secret, which could be why certain things don't make as much practical sense, and I meant it to be a bit cryptic in that way. ( if it's a secret, doesn't make practical sense and is meant to be cryptic, what's in it for the reader? What distinguishes it from any girl's diary? Sorry if it's too confusing! I'll see what I could do to make it a bit more clear using your notes. And thank you for the tip on editing Ella! I wasn't sure why that happened.

Hello Flowerchild, and welcome to the site. Apologies for responding to your response but I think we've all had to hurdle that cryptic, secret, diary enrty poem writing phase. If you were to change the pronouns from I, me, my, to she and her...how does the poem sound now? Simple things can create a buffer between the narrator and the subject.  - I still make these mistakes. Wanted to help you along with some hard questions. 

Paul

[Flowerchild1093]

Hello Tiger and thanks for the welcome and comments.   I'm working on making things more accessible for the reader in my work, than just myself. This is something that could take adjusting for me because for years it's only been me reading it! I actually did a full revision today of another poem I posted close to a week ago called "The Door", so I'm hoping for some new feedback on that one as well. Much appreciated! 

Flowerchild

Thanks for the advice Joe and Ella! Everything in the poem relates back to an experience for me, (this is good, but as a poet you need to find a way to share it with your readers without encroaching on your personal boundaries) a little bit like an inside secret, which could be why certain things don't make as much practical sense, and I meant it to be a bit cryptic in that way. ( if it's a secret, doesn't make practical sense and is meant to be cryptic, what's in it for the reader? What distinguishes it from any girl's diary? Sorry if it's too confusing! I'll see what I could do to make it a bit more clear using your notes. And thank you for the tip on editing Ella! I wasn't sure why that happened.

Hello Flowerchild, and welcome to the site. Apologies for responding to your response but I think we've all had to hurdle that cryptic, secret, diary enrty poem writing phase. If you were to change the pronouns from I, me, my, to she and her...how does the poem sound now? Simple things can create a buffer between the narrator and the subject.  - I still make these mistakes. Wanted to help you along with some hard questions. 

Paul