Poetry Forum

anainabox - all messages by user

7/10/2017 5:31:47 PM
Honest Critique Wanted	Sweet Here After It took me four years to finally leave, to see the person who was changing me. Who was that standing in the mirror? Eyes once elated, now consumed by fear. I held on because who was to catch me if I let go, you always said I couldn’t do it on my own. What I thought was love was just a disguise, imagine my shock when I realized. But I complied with your mask and even made one as well, I knew her better than I know myself. I stayed, through the words that chipped away at my soul, through the nights you left me all on my own. But it took your hand to shatter my mask, that set me free at last. So I ran without knowing where to run, I only knew that I was done. Done with the past and feeling sorry, it was time that I live without worry. That girl is behind me, I have purged all her sins. I am ready to say this battle was my win. No more silent screams, I have a reason for laughter, finally I can say I’m living in the sweet here after. Searching for constructive criticism, I haven't been writing poetry long so, I want do know what I am doing wrong and what I can do better. How is my grammar? Rhyming? Is the message clear and concise? Does anything feel forced or too cliche? edited by anainabox on 7/10/2017 edited by anainabox on 7/12/2017
7/30/2017 6:12:06 PM
Critique me please! // Gears	They say you can’t remember pain, but every time I hear your name, I can’t breathe, someone help me. The memories won’t leave me alone, I’m beginning to spiral out of control. It’s all too much the thought of your hands on my body, but you see; These stitches I’ve sown, oh they’ve come loose, talking to you, I am talking about you. So from here on out, I vow to myself, to find somebody new. Who won’t bring back the past and play it again, I want to start from scratch, I want the pain to end. But it’s hard and I’m tired of holding it in, cause we used to sing, about our love. Now I’m afraid my that voice will fade to a whisper. As long as you were talking, I would be there listening, every word meant the world to me. There was nothing you could say and I wouldn’t hear you out, that was how we worked, two gears pressing on. An now it’s all gone. ------
8/2/2017 1:20:32 PM
Honest feedback please!//Bitter Sweet	Oh sweet silence. Settles upon all, until the last stir is still. But calm waters do more than just soothe. Reflect the thoughts of the tight lipped minds, what lies beneath isn’t always so kind. A contrast to chaos, where voices are let free. Madness runs wild, so loud the ground shakes beneath. The secrets Silence keeps, fills the holders eyes with vengeful clouds, casting shadows on their conscience. The chaos, the crazy, it’s out in the open, hear the screams echo, the commotion spread, disrupt the quiet. Disturb the peace. Chaos is not synonymous for bad. Nor is silence for good. Calm surface with cold blooded veins; distressed facade but anger set free. Chaos so sweet and silence so bitter, maybe all is not quite as it seems. edited by anainabox on 8/29/2017
8/29/2017 3:06:31 PM
Honest feedback please!//Bitter Sweet	Dean Wood wrote: A thought-provoking message in this poem! Well thought out and presented well. I am not accomplished in the free verse form that you have chosen here to I will withhold criticism. That said, your last line (sentence) feels forced and out of place. It is a clever rhyme but the whole poem is emphasizing bitter and sweet when at the last moment, you throw "sour" at me. Rhyme is not forbidden in free form but this just feels like it is shoe-horned in. I recommend saving that nice rhyme for another piece of work and ending this one differently. Good luck with this poem! Thank you so much, I never noticed how forced the last line felt, but I did decide to change it!
8/29/2017 3:09:02 PM
Honest Feedback Please// Choked Up	The taste of blood lingers in my mouth as I bite my tongue to hold back the words. They claw and scratched in my throat, needing to be heard. I’ve learn’t my lesson as the last time I let them free the one who got burnt was me. Holding my breath, skin turning blue, oh what more can I do. Eyes screwed shut so you don’t see the mercy and release that I plea. One by one the words pull at my lips, tearing apart each carefully sewn stitch. Caught in my throat, out of time, I choke. The words spill out and a tear down my face, but yet, you manage to answer back with grace. Flipped upside down, my world sways, for once I am at loss of things to say. ------- What form of poetry would you call this, I just guessed! edited by anainabox on 9/4/2017
3/4/2018 6:52:02 PM
Along the Highway (A Sestina)	Along the Highway (A Sestina) She walks along the highway wrapped in a blanket of hazy fog. Ticking you can hear the clock, the girl walks faster, her back to the moon. the road stretches out to no end, empty, all is engulfed in darkness. She sways with each step, her head full of fog. Above, she feels the mocking stare of the moon, as she wanders further down the lonely highway, each carful breath timed with the tick of the clock, as she heads deeper into the arms of the darkness. Never has she felt the coldness of not knowing the end. “Go home, girl”, thunders the moon. She tries to run but her legs cannot trudge through the fog. Reaching out she grasps the arms of the clock, to pull her away from the dreadful highway. But to no avail, the laugh of the darkness, drags her further from the end. She wonders just how she got to this highway, the last she remembers was looking through the window at the moon. But what window? The clear picture in her mind was invaded by the fog. “Moon!” She calls out, unable to see his face in the darkness. “This night has lasted two lifetimes, when will it end?” “When the hands reach morning on the clock.” She can’t recall the time she began walking on the highway. Time didn’t seem to pass on the clock. Weighed down, she began to slump into the thick fog, her eyes straining to find an end, any end. “Shine your light further, Moon.” At her call, he slips in-between clouds, everything again in darkness. The girl stopped walking, did she really want to find the end? Was this so bad, alone on the highway? “You can’t stay here!” yells the moon. “And where shall I go in this fog?” In response, time speeds up, the hands turn on the clock, and maybe the sun will rise, banishing the darkness. She laughs as the fog pools at her feet,“Until next time moon!” But the girl does not know that the clock will never let the morning take darkness. So she walks along the highway, smiling in foolish belief that she has found the end. edited by anainabox on 3/4/2018 edited by anainabox on 3/4/2018
4/5/2018 7:41:30 PM
To a Younger Self - Cinquian	Eyes. Reflecting wonder, mind's a garden, she'll become a marvel; Soon. edited by anainabox on 4/5/2018 edited by anainabox on 4/5/2018
4/18/2018 9:57:25 PM
My Brother's Keeper	My brother’s keeper, four glass walls amber liquid in a bottle. Drink after drink, hear the glasses clink. Words as bitter as the gin, sometimes he lets the liquor win. Drown your sorrows with every swallow, until you feel nothing, insides hollow. Hear your heart pumping but it's not pumping blood, alcohol runs through your veins, spreading with every pulse. Words tumble out of your mouth, True or false? My brother's keeper has caught many before, and oh how I know there will be many more. If blood makes you human then what is he? Not the brother he used to be. Lost in a sea of golden temptation, each new bottle: his salvation. edited by anainabox on 4/18/2018 edited by anainabox on 4/18/2018 edited by anainabox on 4/18/2018 edited by anainabox on 8/22/2018
5/1/2018 9:25:11 PM
Opposite Ends//	I wasn’t made for you, and you weren’t made for me, like the colours of the sea, you were looking for blue, and I was looking for green. You weren’t made for me and I wasn’t made for you, like the storm stirring outside, you were looking for sun and I was looking for rain. Together we were night and day, as opposite as we could be, hot and cold, black and white, sun and moon, dark and light. A contrast so divine, white sheets and red wine. You were always early mornings and I was late nights. Whether we’re the good or bad, the evil or the kind. I was always brain and you were always mind. What pulled us apart was not that we were already so far, but your passion to love and my thirst to hate. You brought out something in me that I didn’t want to believe, a kind of light that shone so bright, a happiness I couldn’t see. I fear that I took it from you, as you grew more like me everyday. A force of habit of mine, so I took off and ran away. But we both always knew that it would never last, you are the future and I am the past.
8/22/2018 11:23:41 AM
Looking for Honest Feedback// Fools and Freaks	Fools and Freaks Painted faces of perfect shining smiles, venetian masks of skin. They say the ones who believe in love aren’t afraid to sin. That they don’t fear falling but nor do they heed the warnings, and blindly walk into lion dens to never awaken in the mornings. Eyes clouded with the haze of dreams a mirage so great it can make the wicked gleam. For I speak of the fools who lead with their hearts, only to be called a joker. To a king or queen, how little they mean waging lives like a game of poker. Those painted faces mock the rest, who prefer to stay away. They say the ones who hide from the sun are slaves to the day. That they don’t fear being alone but nor do they want to be alike Outcast from the court, they plan to strike. Minds strayed from the path, they don’t fit in, so lost in their heads, who will win? For I speak of the freaks who define strength as difference, only to be called scum To the kings and queens, they are sores when seen, treated like a sliver in their thumb. But Fools and Freaks in a world of rigid royalty unrests their painted faces, beneath the cracks it can be seen, their humanity in its final traces.
9/3/2018 3:55:40 PM
Until all my sons come home	Until all my sons come home the birds will not know how to sing. the sky will be grey and the trees without leaves our hearts will weigh us down like the anchor of a boat, but only until all my sons come home. We have not seen light since the stars in the sky the night they left. Only known the promise of their return. We wait in the dark, unable to say a word until all my sons come home. The door unlocked and the table set, they will surly be here soon. For I have waited a thousand days of darkness, just for one day of light to illuminate their path back to me. We live in stillness until all my sons come home. Like a mirage of water on a hot dry day, I see a speck of light glint in the distance. So I run, into the light So bright but I do not shy away, I look around to see my world in colour, golden beams of sun branch out to greet me. I call out for the ones that were taken from me they welcome me in their arms, I close my eyes as my sons have finally come home and all is as it once had been.
8/24/2019 6:44:06 PM
Dear Boat Keeper/// Critique Please	Dear boat keeper the things you must see, the stories the ocean tells you, do you believe? In between the moments of the Greek god’s wrath, and on the gently flowing waters of the Roman baths, does the world stop spinning to witness the glory, or is this truly a lonely man’s purgatory? Do you see day break the cage of the night? The sun’s rays against the stars is a hopeless fight. Are the secrets rolled up in that old glass bottle, the same lyrics preached in the wind’s gospel? Dear boat keeper are you but a confine? This ocean no more mine than yours. Do you sit there alone at the will of the water, thinking of warmth, and home and your dear daughter? Is it true that you lifted the anchors and untied the knots, to banish yourself solitary with your guilty thoughts? Are you stranded or did you choose to be, lost and exiled in this prison sea? Dear boat keeper I hope one day you grant yourself forgiveness, and should God be absent, take me as your witness: That no sin repented merits a life lost to guilt, as any cherished relationship is worth being rebuilt.
pages: 1