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For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!
12/13/2017 10:29:10 PM

Emily Heller
Posts: 1
Mirror, Mirror
I look at the clear glass in front of me framed with decorative carvings
Back at me stares a pair of somber eyes
With those eyes I see the fiery abyss of my left chest cavity in the reflection
Clank clank the sound it makes as it pings against my rib cage pushing to break free
clank , clank
My heart clanks on as my large breasts protrude from my wide middle
I look in the glass to see the fellow faces of my peers staring and smirking at me
I look to see the harsh angered face of my mother and her ridicule pouring from her mouth
I look to see my long nose and my damaged hair that lay upon my skull
I look to see a girl no longer a girl but an ugly shell holding in a dangerous beast
I walk through the musty gum ridden hallways of my jail to see exuberant eyes and pearly white enamel exposed
As I walk I see those exuberant eyes glance towards the shell of my body but merily they trudge on
I sit down in my hard plastic chair and listen to my friend make jokes about me and I just pretend i’m fine
I stare back at their gorgeous innocent face and I push out a laugh forced by the metallic clank of my heart
I feel the palm of my moist hand and stab it with a blade and pretend it is hades himself
I hear the demanding voice of my tyrant beckoning for me and I jab hades into my wrist and watch in joy as the blood pours out
I feel as though my heart is locked in a cage like a tiger never to be seen again
I feel like a servant to god making motions with my shell but my innards do not follow
I feel as though life hands me fire but everybody else sugar
Day in day out threatened by the tiger in my rib cage waiting to escape like houdini
Day in day out pretending I am fine
Day in day out until the blood pores from my wrist
Until the metallic clank of the tiger beating against the cage dies away and with it the shell of my body as my demon floats up to hell where it belongs

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12/14/2017 12:24:49 PM

Stephen Wilson-Floyd
Posts: 49
This is a very dark piece. I would quibble over the onomatopoeia "clank" for a heartbeat, maybe "thud". Shouldn't "their gorgeous, innocent face" be "her...". I would capitalize "hades". But I find the tone more problematic. It has a "woe is me" quality in the extreme. A poem like this can be successful, in my opinion, but it is tough. The only poet I know who could carry it off was Sylvia Plath. Her "Daddy" spits venom with every line. There are many images in your poem, but not many shocking as language. I would find some really unorthodox metaphors to surprise the reader and winnow out some of the weaker lines here. Adjectives are not a poet's friend--images, images. Best wishes!
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