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Critical Analysis #1
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untitled...looking for critique
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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untitled...looking for critique |
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aurora rain Member
since 2000-11-15
Posts 90 |
it’s nothing like a british plait, nothing like the hearts that weave in, weave out, its eyes held a firmament to the earth vaulting outwards, spilling out sky they are tempestuous instruments i suppose encased in foil, gathered in lace, in heart-strung beauty and my heart is an egg, its yolk held still, the whites left to shake, the shell left to ache— one thousand breaks to shore on the pacific sunday afternoon, the day you made the promise the day you gave the lies, the day you sold your car for a telephone call and a subway ticket and a ride home if you knew where home was at all. i wonder if you knew how to say goodbye. and i wonder if i can make you come back to me skip the songs on the radio that have played once before and play the first song again if i close my eyes, if i dream, if i sell my beads on Saturday for another chance it’ll all wake up anew and we can pretend to smile for each other the way beautiful people always do— if they remember. because i’m afraid you’ll forget there are accidents in my field of vision now and the red is colliding with the blue— there are hearts refracting in her lens today while i think of you, your sandcastle eyes lit up like the fourth of july your smile a sound i will never forget even if you do forget about goodbye. |
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| © Copyright 2001 aurora rain - All Rights Reserved | |||
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roxane Senior Member
since 1999-09-02
Posts 505us |
aurora- overall, i think you've got yourself a really good poem. my only complaint is that you have mixed platitudes with some really good lines. example: good lines "and my heart is an egg, its yolk held still, the whites left to shake, the shell left to ache—" :::this is just an awesome metaphor, very lyrical, very lugubrious::: "we can pretend to smile for each other the way beautiful people always do—" :::i love it when people add little anecdotes into their poems without really realizing it. i think this is such a case. you are making an allusion to the fact that this is the sort of thing that the two of you discussed before; beautiful people.::: "the day you sold your car for a telephone call and a subway ticket and a ride home if you knew where home was at all. i wonder if you knew how to say goodbye." :::this is a great bit of rambling. the lines seem to build upon each other, running into each other, and get deeper and deeper into the meaning of your poem. excellent execution::: a bit cliche (as always, just in my opinion) "your smile a sound i will never forget" :::something about smiles being anything more than seen sounds trite to me, and especially an unforgettable smile. like this one  :::"sunday afternoon, the day you made the promise the day you gave the lies, " :::giving lies, making promises, sunday afternoon, i'm wondering if there's more that you could draw from this experience that might make the reader feel more what you are trying to say here. sunday is a pretty overused day, even if this all occurred on a sunday. maybe you could bring up another point. time, place, month, year, etc. and something beyond the parallel of lies and promises.::: i don't understand this line: "it’s nothing like a british plait," i just don't understand it. welcome to CA. i hope this is the sort of critique you were looking for. |
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J.L. Humphres Member
since 2000-01-03
Posts 201Alabama |
Aurora, I really can't get into a critique right now, but I'll be back. I just wanted to say how great I think this is...as usual you amaze. J.L.H. Jason |
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