Expand, expand, expand, expand. This offers me and subsequently your readers nothing. Just a superficial and stereotypical demonstration of emotion or whatever you wish to call this. This reminds me of what I used to write while I was in high school. And looking back, most of what I wrote in high school was utter crap. My poems were just like this. I was bitter about all the crap I though I was going through. Looking back it was probably a good thing that I set fire to my first notebook of poems. What you have here does no good for you or anyone else. I assuming a great deal of negativity spawned this poem and all this poem now does is perpetuate that negativity. Not that negativity is a bad thing, quite the opposite. This however is a bad thing. You offer me a look into your speaker or a person your speaker is witnessing and this look is of something that cannot be known, and that cannot exist. Emotional death is a moot subject. It isn't real. Dedication is not totally lost, only diminished. While you may disagree, these are some half-truths of life. This is a black image that is communicated with white words. Poetry as a whole is a gray art form. There are no absolute shades. Just as nothing in reality is absolute. So I'll give you two bits of advice: If you are hellbent on keeping this as a staple of your poetry, expand, expand, expand! My second bit, is to start over and consider the grayness of the situation you wish to depict, nothing is black and nothing is white.
Sincerely,
Meredith, I am not who I say I am. Oh and I am not who I think I am...
Bless.
Great moment you expressed here. But it could have been so much more. Your message suffers from brevity and it shouldn't. Your message also suffers from the lack of anything substantial other than the image and the "heart-warming" quote on the plant leaves. This is what I call drivel. Something that probably could have been unwritten and poetry would have been better without it. All this melt-your-heart stuff is overused and dull. There is nothing new here and it demonstrates no skill, and no innovation. Yes, its simple and that's great, your readers can access and use the message readily. But you're also misleading them into thinking they have really gained something. They haven't. What you have presented here is a false display of emotion. Yeah, a parent and child share a moment. But, this record does not attend to the fact that such moments are fleeting, numerous, and on the whole, pointless. These positive and emotional displays do nothing for poetry, they add no art to the world. My suggestion, scrap this and try and think of something no one has thought of before. Skim your brain and hurt yourself over it (metaphorically speaking of course), fire your muse and do all the work yourself.
Feel free to rip my poetry apart, its bad I'll admit.
Sincerely,
Meredith, by the way I am not who I say I am.
Bless.
Barring whether there is truth or not in this story (and I will forgo my training and assume there is), personal struggle and whatever you wish/like to call this is not worthwhile writing. I speak from the heart on this one because I fall prey to my own experiences every time I pick up a pen. What we have here just does not make for interesting fiction and it when it is concluded does not really offer genuine inspiration. The suffering and struggle I witnessed in this "chapter" (admittedly I probably will not read the others) and then acceptance you protagonist experienced felt like it was being performed by a cardboard cut out. Even if your previous chapters offered her pain and the struggles beginnings, well then why would it lead up to this, a trip to McDonalds? This is for lack of a better word, lame. No pun intended. And I apologize for being blunt. You clearly enjoy writing if you put the time and effort into what is displayed here. For that, I am genuinely pleased and ecstatic about. You are keeping a dying art form alive, wonderful. However, what we have here will not stand the test of time. It will not offer anything to those who read it not and absolutely nothing to those who will read it later. It is not compelling. What might give this work some hope is to make these characters dynamic. Make them 5-dimensional. Men don't act this way, I don't care how great they are. Women don't handle tragedy and suffering like this, no matter how much support they have or who is by their side. There is always sadness, resentment, anger, and doubt. What will give this work real merit is some hopelessness and genuine emotion. While there might be a light at the end of the tunnel for Crystal, her journey there needs to be bleak. Keep at it, with practice you can succeed. Feel free though to disregard these words, I encourage you to do so. Afterall, what do I really know?
Call me Meredith, unfortunately I am not who I say I am.
Tear into my crappy poetry if you must.
I am enamored with your triplets, they open my mind to new realms of possibility. Your content is excellent, you are examining death in its rawest form. How glad I was to see that someone out there is able to forgo the usual emotional connotations surrounding such a subject and instead pulling at its roots and presenting possibility of explanation.
You started out with a catchy end rhyme between "maybe that is so" and "all we've come to know", which I'll admit is a nice hook. I encourage you to play with sounds throughout the rest of the poem. Try matching sounds in the middle of lines or throughout the whole poem. This will provide a more of a flow, in other words the eyes won't be able to not read it over and over. Try reciting the poem out loud, I know this is overused advice, but when you hear the words leave your lips you'll know what works and what doesn't; you'll feel it.
Rhythm will become apparent when the poem is recited a few times, it rolled off the tongue and had a nice beat in my head, but see how it feels when the poem is spoken. I think you definitely have room to expand lines. Your broad subject and unique viewpoint guarantee that you can say more in each line.
Nice work,
M.Cevertez
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