Bitter Cold

[misterreplicant]

Ringing through my body, like a chapel bell
The cold sings a song of pain, straight from hell.
My heat ran away from my body, since I went out,
As the sun evaporates water, in a massive drought.

The shaking of my body, I cannot control,
For it's the works of this power, with it's nasty toll.
My blood seems as ice, a very bitter cold
For the heat inside my body, I can barely hold.

Searching for warmth, I have no luck,
To this agony, I sit like a duck.
I have learned my lesson, at this point in time
From this painful freezing's awful crime.

[blank|verse]

'Tis bitter cold and I am sick at heart...

This is a decent attempt to write in rhyming couplets, but the rhymes do dictate the lines and draw too much attention to themselves. I think the 'luck - duck' rhyme is a particularly poor one.

The choice of couplets also seems questionable, because rhyme suggests a certain comfort, which is in contrast to the content of the poem. I don't feel the narrator of this poem is in any mood for the niceties of rhyme.

I think locating the narrator in a particular setting would also help the poem; as it stands it's just about someone being cold, and it's hard for the reader to sympathise with them without this information. Still, keep writing.

[misterreplicant]

Right, thank you!