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Undead
Your presence wilts the roses,
The alive become undead, We only can sense your closeness, Before its too late, But if you can hear me now, Speak undead, Tell me why you are here and wilt me, I am a precious rose, Undead, you revolt me, I despise you, Undead, Only after you are present, I babble up the brook, You take me by suprise, undead, And wilt me, Now you look, And see me wilted, This precious rose, I sense your presence, It's way to close undead, Undead, I'm wilted. |
Hmm, going to say that this is not particularly clever in so far as it operates on cliched ideas without bringing anything new into the picture, and the use of repetition (which has its place as an excellent effect in some pieces) comes off, here, as having a certain quality of purposelessness.
On the other hand, I do like the line "I babble up the brook." It provides both an interesting image and concept, whilst infusing a certain rhythm into the line that really works for it. Would you consider taking that line by itself and expanding upon it, using it to frame an entirely new poem, paying attention to sound, rhythm, etc., and simply seeing where it goes? I think it could produce something really clever. |
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Yes, just that. Use it as the beginning of or idea for a new poem...provided you feel like doing such a thing. Tis merely a suggestion.
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kay kay :D
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