RSCR:Respond

Awesome pieces. I especially loved "Jealousy". I've been inspired as of late as well. Perhaps I can share when you return.

-MattyT

You asked for it, you got it:

*The Dove:

I watched your spirit leap and skip over suicidal leaves,
like a dove on its way to some war-torn nation.
I wondered; Is this what all those people are reaching for?
Do they extend their hands in the hope that you might fly by,
gracing their fingertips with an oily white feather?

You run smack into the air before my clouded state like it was made of heated sand.
Unscathed yet uneasy I walk to examine the crime scene.
As I hold your limp body in my hand, I note the temperature still slightly warmer than mine,
the trickle of blood traveling through the grooves of your wings.
It falls and gathers on my pale skin. It covers me.

Then you depart towards another war-torn soul.

*Flowers (the one I was talking about):

You swooped down from some unsuspecting place,
dancing along the neurons.
That time of awkward growth, of absurd thoughts,
of you.
My words, my filth poured upon you.
You smiled.
Warm radiance in that adolescent tundra.
Your affection made me uneasy,
a tiny emotion in the hands of a giant.

These thoughts of you grow
like flowers on a fallen tree.

*Donkeys & Elephants (I just wrote this):

In this tired quest to find the answers,
we often lose ourselves.

"Love thy God and love thy neighbor" He said

Fingers point and words froth off the tongue
while the heart beats slowly and vies for attention.
For when God said be like little children,
I doubt he intended us to pull pigtails and kick dirt.

While climbing old knotted trees, resting on thrones of maple or oak,
I saw of nation not of animals, but of human beings.
Because the winds of change may sway east or west,
but the ground will forever be broken and cracked.

I find my comfort in the everlasting tide,
owing its allegiance to otherworldly beings.
Sweeping in under the watch of its silver queen,
it bathes us all and takes those it deems fit.

This poetry is terrible. Poetry in general has turned into a vast array of meaninglessness through the years and this is a prime example of it. Your poetry completely lacks meter and diction. The syntax which encompasses the overall meaning of the poems is shaky at best. The ideas are clearly written down, but you have not put any actual thought into constructing them in a meaningful way. You are probably a much more creative man than your poetry gives way to, but these particular examples are as creative as a high school senior putting song lyrics in their yearbook blurb.

This poetry is terrible. Poetry in general has turned into a vast array of meaninglessness through the years and this is a prime example of it. Your poetry completely lacks meter and diction. The syntax which encompasses the overall meaning of the poems is shaky at best. The ideas are clearly written down, but you have not put any actual thought into constructing them in a meaningful way. You are probably a much more creative man than your poetry gives way to, but these particular examples are as creative as a high school senior putting song lyrics in their yearbook blurb.

Dear Anonymous English Major,

Thanks for your feedback, I appreciate you taking the time to read my work. And yes, my poetry lacks meter and diction but, I didn't intend it to when I wrote it. Does a poem need such things? And how is a poem 'constructed in a meaningful way' and how are you sure that I have not done so? Give me examples, circle in red pen, communicate something tangible that will help me improve my writing instead of providing me with vague academic vernacular.

I assume that because you are anonymous and are posting to this that you must know me personally so why the veil of anonymity? I assure you that I can take criticism and wouldn't be personally offended by yours; I did go to art school and work every day in an environment where my creative endeavors are constantly evaluated for their merit...in other words, I'm used to it.

Poetry to me is something that I write very casually and spontaneously. I'm not a linguiphile who worships language, rhyme and verse and all that nonsense. I get a thought, play with the words visually and voilà, it's finished. I'd love to read some of your poems...send them along and I'll post them up.