Lone Shadow Posted October 12, 2005 Report Posted October 12, 2005 Clouds rolling in, the wind driving them chills my bones Rain intensifies, soaking me to the core Temperature drops, coating everything in a sheen of ice Nowhere to turn, the chill saturates all it touches Shivering violently, struggling to draw warmth from within Failing desperately, seeking out shelter The storm rages on, leaving me fully exposed Pushing forward, blindly struggling to survive Incessant drive forces me to continue.
Lone Shadow Posted October 12, 2005 Author Report Posted October 12, 2005 (edited) Blank, empty, void The canvas of our lives We are all, each of us, artists in our own right Painting our respective piece of canvas With the colors and strokes we see fit. Some of the paintings are crystal clear With stark definition, an unmistakable flow While others, nothing is apparent; no visible pattern Not a single direction, and the colors are muddled Blending haphazardly together More and more, I attempt to define my painting To give it clarity and direction Yet more and more, I continue to fail at this goal Wielding my brush with an unsteady hand Unable to fully rinse from it one color before choosing the next So here I begin anew Though try as I might to start with a fresh canvas The remnants of prior works continue to haunt me Making their existence known in everything i do To everyone I know Is this the grand beginning Of the artwork I have struggled so tirelessly to create? Or simply the start of yet another failure in the making Only the passing of time and my badly worn brush Will offer up an answer. Edited October 12, 2005 by Lone Shadow
Sweetcherrie Posted October 12, 2005 Report Posted October 12, 2005 I think that second post was supposed to be two posts But with the new board software it adds it to the previous post if you reply too fast after each other. Read them, liked them, will try and give some more feedback, but only if you don't mind
Lone Shadow Posted October 12, 2005 Author Report Posted October 12, 2005 You're right, thanks.. I didn't see that last night, too tired. Fixed. Where have my words gone? It seems as though day after day I make an attempt at writing something Worth reading, and yet I only manage To scribble down nonsensical gibberish. Oh, and any sort of feedback is appreciated.
Sweetcherrie Posted October 13, 2005 Report Posted October 13, 2005 Clouds rolling in, the wind driving them chills my bones Rain intensifies, soaking me to the core Temperature drops, coating everything in a sheen of ice Nowhere to turn, the chill saturates all it touches Shivering violently, struggling to draw warmth from within Failing desperately, seeking out shelter The storm rages on, leaving me fully exposed Pushing forward, blindly struggling to survive Incessant drive forces me to continue. I really like the imagery you use in this one. The poem shows what happens, and where it’s going to, but what I’m missing is where it’s coming from. First line of first stanza reads a bit difficult…the ‘the’ doesn’t feel right I think. Second stanza holds the best line in my opinion; ‘struggling to draw warmth from within’. The fight to keep yourself motivated is well expressed here, and the line even made me think of Buddhist monks that can warm their whole body by willpower alone (but that might just be me, putting in strange links ) Third stanza, ‘pushing forward’, I first had the idea that it was the storm, but upon rereading I think it’s yourself that keeps pushing forward. It might be good to sharpen this image somehow. Great poem, and with a little tweaking could probably be even better Blank, empty, void The canvas of our lives We are all, each of us, artists in our own right Painting our respective piece of canvas With the colors and strokes we see fit. Some of the paintings are crystal clear With stark definition, an unmistakable flow While others, nothing is apparent; no visible pattern Not a single direction, and the colors are muddled Blending haphazardly together More and more, I attempt to define my painting To give it clarity and direction Yet more and more, I continue to fail at this goal Wielding my brush with an unsteady hand Unable to fully rinse from it one color before choosing the next So here I begin anew Though try as I might to start with a fresh canvas The remnants of prior works continue to haunt me Making their existence known in everything i do To everyone I know Is this the grand beginning Of the artwork I have struggled so tirelessly to create? Or simply the start of yet another failure in the making Only the passing of time and my badly worn brush Will offer up an answer. Again the images are pretty clear. What strikes me in this poem though is how many times you basically use a different image to say the same thing. I think it might be an idea to compress this poem, and try to make it more compact, but maybe that’s just me. I did like that you were consistent and stayed with the comparison of painting. Overall, again nice Where have my words gone? It seems as though day after day I make an attempt at writing something Worth reading, and yet I only manage To scribble down nonsensical gibberish. This poem was pasted three times above each other…and in a weird way it made sense to have that silly repetition in my head. It reflected the gibberish you were scribbling…I’m not saying that you should repeat the same stanza three times, then again…a bit more would probably be nice…seeing that it’s gibberish. All three pretty nice poems, but definitely liked the first one best. Thank you for posting them.
Lone Shadow Posted October 22, 2005 Author Report Posted October 22, 2005 Thank you for taking the time to do that, it's very appreciated. I'm sorry I didn't get back sooner, but between work and my car breaking down, I didn't have any time available.
Sweetcherrie Posted October 22, 2005 Report Posted October 22, 2005 that's what we're here for, and *hugs warmly* no problem, RL always goes first. Hope that your car is fixed now
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