Post your Poems and Get Reviews!

[ktd222]

this ones called "Exhibit A"
it is a romantic poem...
its my first attempt at the genre...

Day in, day out,
You are in my eyes,
The hollow inside me
Waiting patiently
But now it can't wait
Languishing for nights on end
Spending countless hours in anguish
Uncomfortable, insecure
It's time you know this
That you are the piece that
Fills my hollow completely.

Hi Yashad,

I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to post another one of your poems. This is definitely a good first attempt. You have some interesting things working in this poem, especially the inner/outer deal. I saw this aspect working in your previously posted poem as well. Maybe that is the natural way you set up your poems? But did you know that the way you had set up your lines, the way it reads, can be read as almost a literal thing? What I mean is in line two, the “You” is actually in “my eyes,” which is strange, yet interesting, because it summons up an image for me that this person requires some palpable sense of this other person to be fulfilled, or comfortable, or secure. What do you think? I think this would be a great way to end your poem. A part of me still feels you are dancing around exploring the subject of your poem. I would love to know what aspect of this other person gave this person the feelings he/she yearns. The ending seems out of place for me, as if it were unneeded explanation to accompany an already telling image.
I like the title. Nice way set up the subject of romance for an examination.

Take care

[Yashad Kirtane]

Thanks...
the reason the poem ends the way it does is that for me every poem should have a central idea.
when i wrote this one the idea was a "square peg in a round hole"
but if i am writing a romantic poem that idea wouldn't do....
so i put it in an antithetical manner in the poem....
i know i tend to dance around with my subject but i feel that it the only way i can find my niche...
another aspect of the idea is that sometimes you dont know what the other person has that makes you feel secure....
hence the ending..... the persona cant explain what "it" is..... it just is....
another thing i dont believe in making the reader make an effort to understand my poetry hence i write what i feel and as you aptly mentioned it is literal thought....
i hope that comes across in my writing....
Thank you all the "constructive" criticism....
hope you enjoyed it as much as i did when i wrote it...
Take care and please keep aiding me by your reviews.

[ktd222]

anyone else feel like their poetry isn't getting replies...why not post it here?

[stephofthenight]

Deadly Game of Passion

the hot flame of love
licks at my steaming skin
as you seductively whisper
the things in my ear
that every girl wants to hear
in this game of passion,
there is no way to win
its a lose, lose situation
a fight until the end
struggling to tame
that engulfing hunger
trying to extinguish the flame
but your kiss just seems to linger
leaving prints upon my parted lips
panting your name
hungering for your touch
our body's are melting into one
calling for your caress
your husky voice saying my name
longing for your lips
to be back exploring the hidden secrets
knowing I'm losing control
I cry out your name
playing with our
passion is playing a deadly game

[stephofthenight]

FALLING STAR

i cry as i hold onto your shirt
the memories bring back the familiar hurt
its amazing how the smell of your cologne
makes me realize that im truly alone

will you ever be mine to hold? i wonder
will you ever be mine and mine alone? i ponder
its out of hand, how’d it get this far
so much for trust, im your falling star

falling for you was suicide
i was in love, now i want to die
the temptation is deadly, for me and you
all i wanted was to hear you say i love you too

[ktd222]

Deadly Game of Passion

the hot flame of love
licks at my steaming skin
as you seductively whisper
the things in my ear
that every girl wants to hear
in this game of passion,
there is no way to win
its a lose, lose situation
a fight until the end
struggling to tame
that engulfing hunger
trying to extinguish the flame
but your kiss just seems to linger
leaving prints upon my parted lips
panting your name
hungering for your touch
our body's are melting into one
calling for your caress
your husky voice saying my name
longing for your lips
to be back exploring the hidden secrets
knowing I'm losing control
I cry out your name
playing with our
passion is playing a deadly game

Hello stepofthenight,

Thanks for posting your poem. Well, where do I start? I like the endlessness of the subject in your poem, a back and forth play of seduction and desire between two people whom never seem fully fulfilled unless they are fully immersed, loving in each other’s arms. But I have to say the many cliché lines, from the title to “hot flame of love”…well, there are just too many cliché lines to make for a unique perspective on the subject. I would recommend maybe going back over the poem and taking a line like “hot flame of love,” and rephrasing it in a way where it expresses how you felt when this line came to mind.

[ktd222]

FALLING STAR

i cry as i hold onto your shirt
the memories bring back the familiar hurt
its amazing how the smell of your cologne
makes me realize that im truly alone

will you ever be mine to hold? i wonder
will you ever be mine and mine alone? i ponder
its out of hand, how’d it get this far
so much for trust, im your falling star

falling for you was suicide
i was in love, now i want to die
the temptation is deadly, for me and you
all i wanted was to hear you say i love you too

Hello stepofthenight,

I like this poem much more than the first one you posted. I liked that you structured your verses and used end rhyme; by doing this you frame the thoughts of this person in your poem. It really makes for a clean and nice progression. Although I found the beginning image somewhat cliché still, when you hit the part about the falling star, the poem became interesting; the speaker was framed in the stars; love, it seemed, required the fall of this speaker…so it seemed. The ending reminds me of a wish one makes upon witnessing a falling star, except that all of this is framed around assumptions: whether or not this other person would even wish to say “I love you” if he/she saw this falling star. Did you mean “want” or “wish” in the last line?

[ktd222]

Does anyone have a poem that's not getting enough attention? Post it here and get a review.

[motherhubbard]

Does anyone have a poem that's not getting enough attention? Post it here and get a review.

OK, here is one. I'm not around enough for people to take much interest. I let my husband read this and I'll tell what he said after.

what tomorrow brings



I feel so lost, or maybe just empty,
sitting here a hollow woman in the fullness of life.
What blessing I lack I do not know
and there is nothing I can say is amiss.
Still I feel a longing for rest or togetherness or maybe just time.

I’d like to think that tomorrow will be different,
But I know what tomorrow brings- more.
More, slung over his hunched back
gaining distance on me with every steady step
Clomping heavy boots that sound like Doc Martins on hollow stairs

I wish I could reach out - lock the door and hook the chain
Pretend that I’m not home. Tomorrow might think I’ve taken a vacation.
Would he be angry if I ran off to some little bed and breakfast in the hills
and woke to the smell of someone else cooking?
I’d have two farm eggs over medium, bacon and coffee.

Tomorrow might just plop his old bag down on the porch,
and kick the door with his steel toed boots.
He might scream or try to see in the windows.
But I’d be hiding quietly in a hot bubble bath,
my smiling face under a hot washcloth

by Tonya

[AdoreroDio]

A poem I wrote a while ago:

Who are you?

Who are you
that you love me
even when I sin?
Who are you
that you died
that I might live?
I am worthless,
nothing
and you are everything
greatness and joy
who are you?
you are a mystery
that I want shown to me
you are th unknown
that speaks to my heart
Who are you that
my heart won't beat
without you?
You whisper to me
once and it is worth
more than a thousand
words from another
Who are you that
this could be?
You are my God
My Savior
Again I ask,
Who are you?

By AdoreroDio

[ktd222]

OK, here is one. I'm not around enough for people to take much interest. I let my husband read this and I'll tell what he said after.

what tomorrow brings



I feel so lost, or maybe just empty,
sitting here a hollow woman in the fullness of life.
What blessing I lack I do not know
and there is nothing I can say is amiss.
Still I feel a longing for rest or togetherness or maybe just time.

I’d like to think that tomorrow will be different,
But I know what tomorrow brings- more.
More, slung over his hunched back
gaining distance on me with every steady step
Clomping heavy boots that sound like Doc Martins on hollow stairs

I wish I could reach out - lock the door and hook the chain
Pretend that I’m not home. Tomorrow might think I’ve taken a vacation.
Would he be angry if I ran off to some little bed and breakfast in the hills
and woke to the smell of someone else cooking?
I’d have two farm eggs over medium, bacon and coffee.

Tomorrow might just plop his old bag down on the porch,
and kick the door with his steel toed boots.
He might scream or try to see in the windows.
But I’d be hiding quietly in a hot bubble bath,
my smiling face under a hot washcloth

by Tonya

Hi Tonya,

Your poem is both funny and interesting. I wonder how your husband feels about being tomorrow, and always carrying more your way.
The indecisive tone the speaker has toward herself is interesting. Even at points where she was decided in her decision making, all were undermined by it being directed toward him, or how she labeled him, or of her actions merely as suppositions, although I have an inkling that at the end of your poem you were trying to break out of this pattern you’d created. Maybe be more definitive in the last stanza. Set up the last stanza as a scene where the affect of what you do has no bearing what he did. Or take him out of the stanza all together.

[motherhubbard]

Thanks for the review. It's not about my husband, just all the crap I have to do tomorrow and the next day and the next day... you know how it goes. I'm ready for this semester to end!! I'm glad you thought it was funny. I didn't mean for it to be serious at all. My husband thought it was depressing and all down in the dumps, but it made me smile to think of hiding from my responsibilities like that. I laugh at the thought of soaking in a tub and ignoring the knocks at the door as if I didn't even hear them while I giggle to myself.

[ktd222]

Thanks for the review. It's not about my husband, just all the crap I have to do tomorrow and the next day and the next day... you know how it goes. I'm ready for this semester to end!! I'm glad you thought it was funny. I didn't mean for it to be serious at all. My husband thought it was depressing and all down in the dumps, but it made me smile to think of hiding from my responsibilities like that. I laugh at the thought of soaking in a tub and ignoring the knocks at the door as if I didn't even hear them while I giggle to myself.

But I think by way of this you've created someting interesting to explore. It would be quite an interesting direction to take this poem, wouldn't it?

A poem I wrote a while ago:

Who are you?

Who are you
that you love me
even when I sin?
Who are you
that you died
that I might live?
I am worthless,
nothing
and you are everything
greatness and joy
who are you?
you are a mystery
that I want shown to me
you are th unknown
that speaks to my heart
Who are you that
my heart won't beat
without you?
You whisper to me
once and it is worth
more than a thousand
words from another
Who are you that
this could be?
You are my God
My Savior
Again I ask,
Who are you?

By AdoreroDio

Hi Adorerodio,

Thanks for posting your poem. A part of me sees (and you probably recognized as well) a few places where the language is trite, too generalized and unresolved. I feel this is an examination that turns into a self examination. Which sin have you committed in your life you feel most measures up to this other person’s love for you? I’m saying…injecting a little personal experience goes a long ways. Through defining the aspect of your faults maybe you define the qualities of this other as well, so the poem works on both levels.

[ktd222]

Would anyone else like to post a poem of theirs for commenting/review?

[Pendragon]

Have a go at this sestina. If you are unfamiliar with the form, go here first: http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/sestina.htm

TABOO

Professor Wilks stopped at the base of the massive tor.
He rubbed his eyes. How long had it been since he’d slept?
He pulled out a faded piece of parchment with trembling hands.
“The treasure lies where the full moon points a finger at midnight.” He quoted.
“But let the man who searches for it beware! It is taboo
to cross the buried dead!” Involuntarily, he flinched. His skin

burned. Of course, he had seen almost everything. Most of the skin
on his left arm had been torn off in torture by natives. The tor
was like a grayish, bony finger—Finger! The landmark mentioned! “Taboo!”
Dear Lord, did he need some sleep!
His mind told him. “It is taboo to cross the buried dead!” The quote
rang like a death bell. He looked up. The hour was at hand.

As the full moon rose behind the rocky spire, its shadow resembled a hand,
the weathered stone reminiscent of bleached bones, skin
long withered away. “Where the full moon points a finger…” he quoted.
He watched the shadow of the mighty tor
carefully. He trembled from excitement and lack of sleep.
Finally, the shadow lengthened to a single finger. This, then, was the place of taboo.

He ran his shaky hand across his suddenly sweaty face. Taboo?
He was more afraid of men than of spirits. Spirits did not have hands
that came from the dark nor creep upon you as you slept
and deprive you of several pounds of skin!
But it was now or never. The shadow of the tor
was a long finger indicating the treasure as the parchment quoted.

He read the ancient script again. “Points a finger.” He quoted.
He felt elated and at the same time terrified. “Taboo?”
He whispered. Resolutely, he stepped away from the safety of the tor,
out onto the barren plains where the shadow lay like a giant hand,
finger extended. An unpleasant smell struck his nose, and his skin
tinged in alarm. He desperately needed to get some sleep.

“The buried Dead!” a voice whispered. “Disturb not those who sleep!”
Wild-eyed, he stared everywhere. “It is taboo!” The voice hissed the quote.
From somewhere in the darkness, the drumskins
began to throb. Eerie voices came from all directions. “Taboo! It is taboo!”
The ground in front of him split, and a decaying hand
Grabbed for his legs as he leapt for the safety of the tor…

Professor Wilks was found at the base of Diablo Tor, his deeply tanned skin
pale in death. His face was peaceful, as if in sleep. A mummified hand
grasped his leg. His colleagues said, quote: “He should not have broken the taboo!”

Dale Harris

© 8/14/97