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Critical Analysis #1
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faith
Member
since 2000-01-31
Posts 89


0 posted 2000-02-10 01:41 PM


Life indeed has been a vicious curse,
Smiling all the while ,
Inside plotting and betraying,
Its evil mind lingering at every twisted plot that rapes me,
Written for me , given to me by those hidden sinister powers,
Each hand that I hold,
Each breath that I take,
Is tinged up with the miseries of my past and present,
People come and go in my life,
Like broken, lying , forgotten seasons ,
Some touch me like winter , some heat me up like summer,
But when the time comes , the winds silently carries them to another world,
No one for me to keep,
Each promise which is whispered in my ears,
Now I know is nothing but a gamble between my life and my loved ones,
Winner are those who hurt me to death! sf


© Copyright 2000 faith - All Rights Reserved
Wordshaman
Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 110
Illinois, USA
1 posted 2000-02-10 08:44 PM


Okay...I'll start by saying this.  I don't like the subject of the poem--it's a somewhat whiny, "woe-is-me-the-tortued-artist" kind of poem.  I will never deny writing these types of poems.  I just know that they're really not written for anyone but me.  But that's a personal opinion.  I won't purport to call that a "rule" or any such idiotic thing.  

As for the poem itself, I think it would be interesting if you expanded on the idea behind the following:  

Each hand that I hold,
Each breath that I take,
Is tinged up with the miseries of my past and present

because it's fascinating from a psychological standpoint.  (That's another bias on my part, as I find myself in the hunt for a degree in psychology as well as English--talk about dedication.)  (or is that masochism?)

Another (separate) piece could be what inspired this:

People come and go in my life,
Like broken, lying , forgotten seasons ,
Some touch me like winter , some heat me up like summer,
But when the time comes , the winds silently carries them to another world

But please please don't combine the two ideas in the same poem.  If you take too many depressing facets from your life and complain about them, you become a tortured artist.  A really good artist can take one pain from his/her life and explore it to its fullest extent before moving on to the next one.  Anyone can let the dam loose and describe every dead body and piece of fecal matter that comes out in the rush.  It takes patience to leak it out a singular pain at a time.  Give that a shot.

And, also, for the latter passage that I gave a suggestion about--read a poem of mine from around three to four weeks ago (maybe less; I don't know) called "A Year in the Life".  Might be fodder for an idea.  Reply to the poem itself if you find it interesting, and that way I'll know what you thought about its concept.  (It will rise up from the ashes like some poetic phoenix and perhaps strike chords again, but I hold my breath not).  Matter of fact--I often change my opinion in mid-sentence--I'll just raise it up for you now.  Less work for you to do.  

But all in all--scrap this poem, but keep the good pieces for yourself.  They are good parts in a syphilitic piece, if you should ask me.  But it's just my opinion.  See you around.

Wordshaman

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navwin » Archives » Critical Analysis #1 » Till they hurt me to death!n thanx wordsshaman that meant a lot to me!:))))))

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