Is this a good piece of work, or is it shite?
Is this good, or really really bad?
1
I have to write a poetry anthology for my English class and I was thinking about what really makes me happy and I got inspired to write this. I need some opinions about it. Bash it, compliment it, give some pointers, etc. Thanks!
My hands, are not working hands. They do not know how to toil. My hands are not courageous like my grandfathers, nor are they abusive like my own fathers. They do not understand hardships or pain. They only know your hands, your skin, they only know how to touch you.
My brain, is not very smart. It is not sure how to think. It does not ponder on theories or equations. It is not the brain of an educated man, but it is not the brain of a fool. My brain remembers every detail of your smile, and of your face.
My voice is not loud. It does not know how to speak. It does not move people to tears or to action. It will never be a debater, nor will it ever be a leader. My voice only knows the perfect thing to say, at the perfect times.
My eyes cannot see the truth. They cannot cut through the dark. They do not show emotion, or reflect the smiling faces which gaze into them. My eyes see only you, only your eyes.
My heart, is not my heart. I did not have it before you, it has no downfalls or weaknesses. You’ve made my heart whole, you’ve made my heart something to be valued. My heart can feel you, my heart knows how to think, my heart knows how to speak, and my heart will always show my emotion.
That emotion is love. Love for you. Love for the one who has given me so much, in so little time. The one who has given me my senses.
My hands, are not working hands. They do not know how to toil. My hands are not courageous like my grandfathers, nor are they abusive like my own fathers. They do not understand hardships or pain. They only know your hands, your skin, they only know how to touch you.
My brain, is not very smart. It is not sure how to think. It does not ponder on theories or equations. It is not the brain of an educated man, but it is not the brain of a fool. My brain remembers every detail of your smile, and of your face.
My voice is not loud. It does not know how to speak. It does not move people to tears or to action. It will never be a debater, nor will it ever be a leader. My voice only knows the perfect thing to say, at the perfect times.
My eyes cannot see the truth. They cannot cut through the dark. They do not show emotion, or reflect the smiling faces which gaze into them. My eyes see only you, only your eyes.
My heart, is not my heart. I did not have it before you, it has no downfalls or weaknesses. You’ve made my heart whole, you’ve made my heart something to be valued. My heart can feel you, my heart knows how to think, my heart knows how to speak, and my heart will always show my emotion.
That emotion is love. Love for you. Love for the one who has given me so much, in so little time. The one who has given me my senses.
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It's not my style, but it conveyed its message well, and did so without butchering the English language, I am pleased to add; although, it probably would fare better in the Writings board, but nonetheless, nothing is out of place in Random.
I liked it, it got a point across and described the narrator very well.
By "not my style," I am referring to the fact that I myself prefer poetry with specified meter and rhyme scheme. I've only done free verse once or twice, and although I enjoyed the outcome, it's not usually something I dabble in.
I liked it, it got a point across and described the narrator very well.
By "not my style," I am referring to the fact that I myself prefer poetry with specified meter and rhyme scheme. I've only done free verse once or twice, and although I enjoyed the outcome, it's not usually something I dabble in.
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My hands, are not working hands. They do not know how to toil. My hands are not courageous like my grandfathers, nor are they abusive like my own fathers. They do not understand hardships or pain. They only know your hands, your skin, they only know how to touch you.
i stopped after this......GAY FAG IS GAY!
i stopped after this......GAY FAG IS GAY!
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Noutakun wrote...
It's not my style, but it conveyed its message well, and did so without butchering the English language, I am pleased to add; although, it probably would fare better in the Writings board, but nonetheless, nothing is out of place in Random.I liked it, it got a point across and described the narrator very well.
By "not my style," I am referring to the fact that I myself prefer poetry with specified meter and rhyme scheme. I've only done free verse once or twice, and although I enjoyed the outcome, it's not usually something I dabble in.
Yeah, I tried my damnedest to learn that in high school, but none of it stuck with me. I think I could give it some kind of coherent pattern, but it would probably be twice as fail.
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It was really good but though it could use some better word choise but other then that keep working on it i'm sure it will turn out fantastic.
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Its good if you wrote it about someone special. <-- I chose that one.
I liked it... A lot! You should be proud of it, I took a creative writing class and none of my work turned out that good...
I liked it... A lot! You should be proud of it, I took a creative writing class and none of my work turned out that good...
0
Fuck meter and rhyme.
It's good, all I can say is that formatting means something in poetry.
Make sure that you shorten your stanza when you turn it in, to guide the reader further. There are pauses that could enrich it, this will do the trick.
It's good, all I can say is that formatting means something in poetry.
Make sure that you shorten your stanza when you turn it in, to guide the reader further. There are pauses that could enrich it, this will do the trick.
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ickya wrote...
My hands, are not working hands. They do not know how to toil. My hands are not courageous like my grandfathers, nor are they abusive like my own fathers. They do not understand hardships or pain. They only know your hands, your skin, they only know how to touch you. i stopped after this......GAY FAG IS GAY!
I bet your just jelous that you couldn't write a poem even to save your own life.
people who usually say something is gay usual means they don't understand it.
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Brittany
Director of Production
At first I thought it was going to be about someone growing up in todays generation versus the past where people worked hard. I was kind of disappointed by that, I'm not sure why.
The ending kind of got drawn out, but I was disappointed about a poem not being a history lesson - so I'm not sure what you'd take from that.
The ending kind of got drawn out, but I was disappointed about a poem not being a history lesson - so I'm not sure what you'd take from that.
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1st thought: Its Bad
2nd thought: Oh look at you, Mr. Bleeding heart, you make me sick
Final thought after... A lot of thought: If you wrote it for somebody special, then good job
2nd thought: Oh look at you, Mr. Bleeding heart, you make me sick
Final thought after... A lot of thought: If you wrote it for somebody special, then good job
0
The poem is a good outline for a better poem.
If you cut it down to just one of the body parts you described and really explore it, e.g.: just the hands, you can create a more visceral experience. Think about the images and associations with hands, how they can communicate love and feeling through description: tender hands that work the fields and hold newborn babies. Hands that, under the shadow of the sun, look like birds; hands that silence quivering glass, etc. Explore the best nuance of description, such as, "hand running over silk" or over cotton, "chatty" hands, or slow, experienced hands, like a conductor's. What do your grandfather's hands actually look like? Your father's hands? Does your father have a white band on his ring finger where his wedding ring used to be? Does your grandfather have callouses on his palms?
Stay away from spelling out things: "That emotion is love." Leave emotion to the imagination. The mystery and depth of a great image create tension. Tension is the axis on which a reader understands a poet's feelings without the poet ever having to say what he feels.
If you cut it down to just one of the body parts you described and really explore it, e.g.: just the hands, you can create a more visceral experience. Think about the images and associations with hands, how they can communicate love and feeling through description: tender hands that work the fields and hold newborn babies. Hands that, under the shadow of the sun, look like birds; hands that silence quivering glass, etc. Explore the best nuance of description, such as, "hand running over silk" or over cotton, "chatty" hands, or slow, experienced hands, like a conductor's. What do your grandfather's hands actually look like? Your father's hands? Does your father have a white band on his ring finger where his wedding ring used to be? Does your grandfather have callouses on his palms?
Stay away from spelling out things: "That emotion is love." Leave emotion to the imagination. The mystery and depth of a great image create tension. Tension is the axis on which a reader understands a poet's feelings without the poet ever having to say what he feels.
