His mind is a storm
Snarling and shifting, screaming release
Caught up in a cold, concealed cave,
Echoing with the thunder of bruised thoughts.
His eyes will not stand,
No, not any longer,
For the wretched lies
Choking out throats
Of cackling bastards
Who cannot speak,
Rather hurl half-truths covered in venom
Fizzing and fading like neon signs.
His eyes will not,
Can not,
Stand the pain
Any longer.
I liked it.
ReplyDeleteI was unsure if the cackling bastards were choking lies, or if lies were choking the cackling bastards.
So I'm going to start trying to provide as much constructive criticism as possible on all poems posted. Starting here.
ReplyDeleteIn line two, the alliteration and image works wonderfully; In line three, the alliteration is a bit overwrought and doesn't come out as well as the previous line. The metaphor of the next line is brilliant.
In the last stanza, your first two lines are good, and the parallelism works. The last two lines, however, are sort of what we would expect. That is, it feels like a trite ending. The rest of the piece does not sound trite, but those five words turn it into a mold we're all too familiar with. I think if you can make the closing lines a bit more unique or provide an interesting spin you can make this poem vastly different and much more interesting.
That said, it was very much worth reading. The alliteration and imagery both tend to work very well, and there are some magnificent turns of phrase.
Thanks for the criticism, I appreciate it. I wrote it in about 10 minutes and didn't put much effort into revision. I was feeling kind of angry at the time so I was expecting flaws.
ReplyDeleteChris is wrong. It is not trite.
ReplyDelete