I don't waste my pennies on wishes. (I do it for charity.)

[a_little_wisp]

The stars don’t listen to me anymore.
Do they?
I was sure, once, that they did,
When I was always wishing,
When I was younger and there was time enough, still,
To snatch my dreams right from the sky –-
Or so I thought.
Time, she flies,
And lies.

There are days when I feel as though it’s too late now,
Knowing it’s not.
I no longer can count upon the stars to keep myself aligned.
They don’t listen to me anymore.
They don’t catch my wishes.
They can’t.
I don’t want them to.

So don’t – don’t -
Don’t ask me to help you change your fate--
My wheel flew off the wagon long ago;
I left the caravan,
And chose the woods.

I’ll tell you why they stopped listening to me:

It was the unmarked day when I stood outside
And drew a line in the sifting sands of my soul
(Lines that must be drawn and drawn again)
Between what-was and the who-is-now--
And dared the stars to try and affect my destiny;
It was the forgotten hour in which I sank up to my heart in fear,
When I felt the core of me splinter into
A crystal of indefinite shape and design
Which, ever since, has branched out blindly—wildly-- through the appendages of my being,
To become the formless, faceless, beautifully frightening creation
-- not a statue, nothing cut from stone --
Of a self-appointed dictator within a
Totalitarian me.

Being crystal,
It shines.
(Sometimes-- on days when my pockets are full of hopes--
As brightly as stars.)

Can you blame the stars for being offended?
Turning them down like that -- shame on me.

Still.

Still, in the night when I tell my story to the vast audience of a silent,
Empty
Amphitheatre,
I think--
Oh, and am almost sure sometimes--
That I can hear the tremulous breath of the stars,
Waiting in anticipation for the next verse,
To see the next shift in my movement.
You see, they are more than a little in love
With the thrill of mystery.

We gaze back at each other
And admire.
Stars, the seemingly constant,
And I,
the seemingly volatile,
Screaming my words into the world
And my worlds,
Delighting in the echo when it finds me,
Or finds the stars.

And no,
The stars don’t listen to me anymore.

Oh, but stars,

You hear me.

[~Sophia~]

Wispy! For me, it starts here:


don’t – don’t -
Don’t

and then, I'm totally absorbed! Oh yeah, uh huh! (So good to see you!):nod::nod:

Edit: I didn't mention that I loved it!

[Pendragon]

The stars don’t listen to me anymore.
Do they?
I was sure, once, that they did,
When I was always wishing,
When I was younger and there was time enough, still,
To snatch my dreams right from the sky –-
Or so I thought.
Time, she flies,
And lies.


I loved this opening stanza. Yeah, time flies and lies...

[PrinceMyshkin]

Please God, may I always be one of the echoes that return to you, breathless with praise for the incandescence of your being!

[cogs]

all the elements of a powerful poem are here. i suggest you pare it down to those, to bring them forward to the reader. "You see, they are more than a little in love/With the thrill of mystery." that's one of those lines.

[Virgil]

I can't say there's anything unsound poetically from this, except perhaps this line, "And drew a line in the sifting sands of my soul." Those type of metaphors are not the most sophisticated.

But really I can't say i like the poem. It's rather overly self pitying and though the voice is original and strong, I don't see all that originality: stars as fate, wheel flew off the wagon, heart in fear, emotional core as crystal. Perhaps the ending captures me somewhat, the coming to an understanding with the stars. That's rather interesting. Sorry if I'm a little harsh, but I assume you want feedback.

[a_little_wisp]

Soooophiiiia!! I missed you so, soooo much! :D I knew I kept those "don't - don'ts in there for a reason - for you! :D I'm looking forward to go back and checking up on some of your new poems, so you're likely to hear from me again soon! <3 Big love.

Pendragon! :D I always appreciate your comments! Thank you so much-- I was a little concerned for the first stanza, but I left it in there, and now I'm glad I did.


Prince, Prince, Prince! Hullo, hullo, hullo! The incandescence of my being! You know, quite often I find that your comments are like poetry. I only hope that one day words flow from my fingertips as easily as they do from yours.

Hello, cogs! It's nice to meet you! -- Thank you very much for reading and commenting! You're right, there is probably a lot here that could be scraped down in order to bring out the shiny bits. You might find that I'm a bit wordy and long-winded sometimes -- it's one of my biggest flaws as an english major. I'll try to work on this one a little more. Again, thank you for reading!

Hi Virgil!! :D You're right, I do want feedback -- and I appreciate yours! I'm probably pretty terrible when it comes to unsophisticated metaphors. After reading John Donne, all the past poetry I've written seems to fall short. I'll work on them!

I'm sorry it wasn't your cup of tea, my friend! I truly didn't mean for it to be self-pitying though. It's actually meant to be more like my poem "then there was that time I was eaten by an anaconda". In this poem, I was trying to address how I feel towards destiny, and how I made a choice to choose freewill (Like the band, RUSH: " You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice;/ If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice./You can choose from phantom fears, or kindness that can kill/ I will choose a path that's clear, I will choose freewill."). That is, I won't find answers in the stars, and only I can make my dreams and wishes come true. I guess it was more of a rebirth of me/validation of the self/self-empowering type poem -- "Delighting in the echo when it finds me"-- that is, delighting in finding that the things I say, I create in myself, or that come from my actions, come back to me or show themselves in another person or the world. The ending is more of a, "You beautiful ball of plasma! You can't help but be envious of my living!" type deal. But I can see how you might find it self-pitying, with the 'sinking up to my heart in fear' type stuff.

Would maybe changing the tone help? I'm not quite sure, but I can see it does need work. You're right about the originality bit - the theme and the symbols aren't very original, even compared to my other poems, much less poetry in general. In poems to come, I'll start looking for more original material. In this day and age, I guess it does get harder. It reminds me of those Beatles lyrics... "Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs." There are A LOT of love songs, and I guess, a lot of poems about stars and destiny.

Thanks so much for your critique, Virgil! :D I really appreciate it you looking into it!

[skib]

I thought it was beautiful Wisp.
I'm not a huge poem buff, I can't really read deeply into it, and I certainly can't give any decent suggestions, so I'll leave it at this: I found it lovely and a wonderful journey.
Good to see you again! It's been a while.

[Virgil]

I've seen you do much better Wisp. Like I said I don't think there is anything technically wrong with poem.

As to the metaphor, you should avoid metaphors that use "of" as means of comparing an abstraction. You used "sifting sands of my soul." I'm not sure I know how to explain it, but look how easy it is for me to just rattle of these metaphors. I'm just going to do this off the top of my head: "the tiger of my passion," "the door of a new future," "the window of experience," "the rock of our marriage." You can sse how superficial they sound, and I think it's because the phrasing has becomne so cliched.

It's probably the combination of the unoriginal images and the tone together. If one or the other is changed, it might be much better.

[cogs]

virgil, you bring up a valid point... i haven't thought of that, but whenever i compare two things, i just meld the two into one, like, "tired grains of soul sand sifted", or,
"tiger passion in me, leaps". i guess this is because the abstract enlivens the concrete, and both are not separated, as one 'of' another.

[MorpheusSandman]

This is one of those pieces that I like in concept but the execution could use some work. This is the problem with free-verse in that often a poem works better with a structure which provides focus; this one seems a bit nebulous and haphazard and could perhaps use some editing. One concept I've heard artists and photographers use in thinking about composition is SEX (Simplify & EXclude) and I think the same concept works wonders in poetry. It's sometimes good to give yourself a limit or a form and then stick to it and even use that form to your advantage.

@Virgil: Even though you can be a harsh critics to a forum full of amateurs I do think you provide a great service in challenging poets to do better. I've often wished you'd comment negatively on my stuff so I could know what to work on. :)