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Yiehtk
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Old 08-31-2009, 03:52 AM

Hello, my name is Yiehtk and I am an amateur poet seeking both comment and criticism, so that way I know what I am doing right and what I am doing wrong. Don't be shy to say something, anything at all. I need your help.

This thread will eventually include fifty poems related to fire, and a few extras written during that time. I eventually plan to do different chapters of poetry based on the elements, but for now I focus on fire. Newest ones first, though the extras are at the bottom, and you'll see the word enlarged and in red for when the extra poems start. Although at this point, there are no extras.


Name
Like fire that burns,
Your name becomes who you are,
Without your consent.

Star
- I -
Alone in the world,
A child stares up at oblivion.
Fiery lights curled,
In the absence of epicurean.

“What must be up there?”
She asked,
Looking up with a curious stare
At a Universe masked.

There was nothing for the child here.
Earth was a barren land.
All she wanted was to disappear,
From a planet that was unmanned.

- II -
There came a falling star,
Just a night afterward.
It left a ghastly scar,
On a world brutally incurred.

The girl discovered a fiery sprite,
Which looked at her with glee.
It gave a simple invite
and asked, “Come with me?”

Light descended on the last human child,
Who nodded cried goodbye,
To the home which embraced the wild,
While the sprite lifted her to the sky.

- III -
The human child and the sprite,
Raced across a universe of life.
Saddened by the worlds alive,
She could not help but remember her strife.

But soon the pair passed a bright star,
And came upon a moon aglow.
A civilization quite bizarre,
Greeted them “Hello”.

She never would forget her home,
But the human child never lived alone.


Explanation
Misconceptions come early,
Understanding too late.
So everything often goes awry,
It almost seems like fate.

Why can’t anything be explained,
Without some kind of offense?
With this nothing can be sustained,
It should seem like common sense.

Yet the fury within the souls of men,
Call forth war and unrest.
And it will happen again and again,
Despite what some would suggest.


Confusion
Humanity knows not the reason they are here.
Was it by accident or fate’s sleight of hand?
Contradictions, discovered and created persevere.
Have they been captured by this meadowland?

Science is but a means to learn.
Faith is but a wish to exist.
Yet both only seek to burn,
Of everything in humanity’s midst.

Or is it just a measure of failure,
In man’s ability to compromise?
Yet nothing can capture,
The answer to the skies.

Or perhaps,
The meadowland only conspires.


Jump

It won’t take much for you to do,
Just bend your knees and stretch up.
You’ve walked before,
You’ve even ran.
What is it to Jump?

It’s okay to fall over and stumble.
It’s even okay to cry.
Get up again and try once more.
Stretch up, and reach!

You’re getting it now,
With quite a bit of skill.
See what I mean,
What is it to Jump?

Oh, it’s everything alright.
It’s learning something new.
It may be simple,
But it is also grand.

Life is a series of jumps,
Not all taken in order.
But each is important,
Everyday brings you closer to the end.

And I don’t mean the day you meet hellfire.
Really, stop crying.
It’s not so bad to die
With a smile,
When you’ve become a better man.


WINGS
Would you save a bird on fire,
Its wings alight and its body in pain?
Not thinking of the grievous injuries you could acquire,
Gentle soul, won’t you act?
Savior you’d be, if you’d just reach a little higher.


War
You always see those pictures…
Of hippies puttin’ flowers in guns,
And soldiers pettin’ kittens.

But let me tell you,
War aien’t about the violence.
It aien’t about the victory.

It’s about the flowers.
And the kittens.

And those who aren’t fighting.

Guilty or innocent,
No one really thinks about it in history.
Both parties were guilty.
Both sides killed.

The war was pointless.
What ever happened to compromise?
What ever happened to understanding?

What ever happened to empathy?

You don’t come back from war,
Smiling because you shot a man.
Unless your bat-fucking insane.

You come back from war broken.
Your conscious torn.
You probably killed a man.
A solider.



If you were lucky.

You may have killed a civilian.
Perhaps a child.
Or god forbid, a kitten.

The reality is that war is ugly.
But everyone fights for a reason.

Even the “bad guys”,
They fight for a side too.

Culture is different.

But everyone understands…

War is ugly.

And I think,
Puttin’ flowers in guns,
And soldiers pettin’ kittens reminds us of that.

But we never seem to remember why we fought.
Correction, we never seem to understand why the enemy fights.

The villain belongs in flames.
The villain has to die,
Today.

Let tomorrow paint how history should have gone.
Let tomorrow taint the reasoning,
The meaning behind each sprint towards war.

Because we only fight for our side.
We are always going to fight blind.
And we’ll protest blind too.

Because only the side you are on matters,
Really.

Do you understand?
Ha.
Of course you don’t.

/History.

Nightmare?

The worst part of falling asleep,
Is seeing the city burn.
The people run from their homes and weep,
But God shows little concern.

The only house left standing,
Is my own.
All that is left is a misunderstanding,
And unknown.

Prayer is pointless.
Only accousal brings comfort.
And there is no progress.
Nor is there support.

I find myself at the guillotine.
Guilty of a crime I did not commit.

But I think I did.
I think I did.

Consequences be damned, you say?
Nay, not even in dreams.
God commands me to obey.
To pay for my schemes.

The blade rushes down.
And I wake.

I lay in a mess of sheets and sweat.
My heart beating furiously against my chest.
I should pay my debt.
My life is suppressed.

I ran to the house that once was.
My home. My family.
The very first cause.
And pick at the cinders clumsily.

I was supposed to feel guilty,
Seeing this.
And to realize the cruelty.
The crime.

But I remember before the fire.
Before I struck that match.
Of everyone who had an act to conspire.

It wasn’t the house I wanted to burn down.
It was the city.

My dreams were not enough.

I lit the matches at my side.
And smiled.

Guilt be damned.


Doll

The woman
Could not help but feel a seething sort of hatred
As she pulled the doll out of the box.

She gripped it with grievous intent.
It smiled back, prettily.
Mockingly.

The toy was perfect,
An embodiment of the woman’s failure as the female counterpart to man.

But did it have to be this way?
Could not she just hold it to her,
Like it was dear again?

It was only a doll.

But it was also a lie.

And liars had to burn.

The woman torched the hair,
And set it outside on the balcony.
She ignored the strange stares from her neighbor,
Who was still bothered from the shouts of yesterday.

The face began to drip,
And the hair began to smell.

The woman was still not happy.
For the doll did not wrinkle in its death.

The plastic only melted.

And she still felt inadequate.


---- Extras (Unrelated to The Burning Chapter)

Wow, I haven't done any yet. D: But I imagine I will. I"ll keep this here just in case.
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IAmNellie
45.22
IAmNellie is offline
 
#2
Old 09-01-2009, 03:45 AM

Criticism first: There were a few spelling mistakes. At times the poems didn't flow: that has nothing to do with rhyming. it just means that it doesn't seem to flow when read. The only other thing I can think of is that there were a couple pieces that ended extremely abruptly...try to come up with a bit more of an ending.


I think that for the most part your poetry flows, except for in a couple pieces. I really love your choice of subjects and I definitely love how much you get "into character". I feel like I'm there, which is what you want your reader to feel like.

Keep writing!:)

 


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