Ooh I like this so much. Saw it in my 'Online Authors' list, and how could I resist. You rhymed 'stance' with 'extravagance', which is sublime. Nonsense maybe, but skilfully played, like the best sports, bravo Sir, an excellent poem.
Wow. Just. Wow. This is really powerful, and skilfully executed language. Love how the last stanza echoes the first, and concludes your poem so neatly. Hard to pick, but I think the lines 'Like the flow and ebb of tides I will wash upon your shore
Until I’m swept back out again and ache and want for more.' are probably my favourite, using 'flow and ebb' rather than 'ebb and flow' was perfect.
I like this a lot. You've highlighted the surprising similarities between conflicts of the heart and those on the battlefield, (loved the Pat Benatar song when it came out incidentally). The rhyme scheme doesn't sound forced, and the first stanza is a great opener, especially the lines 'where you exploded into my heart, and left a wound I can’t forget.'
I would suggest opening the final stanza with 'When the battle's over', drop the 'And', especially as it is repeated on the next line. The syllable count of your lines varies quite a bit, but having read the poem aloud, I don't think this is an issue here, it sounds very good.
An impressive poem, and I like how professional your Portfolio looks too. Welcome to WDC, I look forwards to seeing more of your works.
P.S. - I've nominated you for a merit badge in the Great Groundhog Merit Badge Giveaway.
Whoa! The horror I feared was not what you revealed. This is utterly brilliant, especially because of the several stings in the tail it conceals to spring upon us. You have it all, the characters, interaction, details to create a vivid impression as I read. This isn't a review, it's simply a message to say your story telling is awesome.
This is excellent, it is really well written. Your plot is intriguing and leads to a very satisfying denouement. Noah is vile, and you put this across with plenty of references that leave little doubt just how unpleasant he is. The idea of a serial killer watching a dramatisation of his deeds, and being so annoyed about the inaccuracies is darkly humorous, and invites the reader to guilty schadenfreude.
I hope we see more from you, this is a superb start.
What a lovely poem. You've changed something that might be thought commonplace into an offering of thanks and praise to God. The rhyme scheme is simple, but largely effective, and though the last two lines of the third stanza don't rhyme, this doesn't detract at all from the feeling of joy and happiness that you express.
This is a very personal and introspective piece. Reading it made me feel concerned for the author, which means it was well written, as it conveys the author's unease of mind. It uses various examples drawn from sources personally known to you, which helps explain how you arrived at that state of mind. As it was written several years ago, I can only hope that the sense of dread has passed, to be replaced with a brighter viewpoint.
Nicely nightmarish, my only quibble is no self respecting cat is going to have a collar referring in any way to canines. My favourite lines are the last two of stanza three, great rhyming there.
Ooh the humour here is chilly. This is a finely observed tale of the outsider having to deal with her distant and emotionally oblivious family. The sheer lack of thought that has gone into choosing Leah's present illustrates how little feeling her family seem to have for her. On a wide scale it illustrates how often gifts are given mechanically, because 'it is Christmas, therefore I must give a gift'. The nod to 'what to get people who have everything', is another pointer to the same commercially driven fallacy that gift giving is essential.
The resolution is rather sad and depressing, which sadly is an accurate portrayal of what it feels like to get something you don't want and are expected to be grateful for.
Very impressive short story, well written, and, to my mind at least, carrying a deeper message.
Hello, Congratulations on your anniversary. This is a clever short story, I like how you set Karen up to reach her nadir, and then spring the impossible happening. Using the very medium which has been stressing her, as the means by which her dead husband's spirit communicates briefly with a message of comfort and hope, was perfect.
I also liked how the last line echoed, but reversed the 'Impossible, but happening.'
This is a great example of how much can be conveyed in really very few words... if they are well written.
Hmm! I'm not convinced that many children actually look forwards to bedtime, unless it is Christmas Eve of course. You poem rhymes nicely, and conveys an earnest yearning for sleep, which personally I can relate to. Part of me can imagine this being read by a desperate parent, hopeful of persuading a bright eyed and bushy tailed toddler that sleeping is really a great idea. Especially like the imperative conveyed in the last two lines. Neat little poem.
This brought back such pleasant memories. Loved some of your word choices, especially 'oyster oriels', and 'streaming seaweed standards'. You captured the ephemeral nature of the sandcastle, and expressed your wonderful imagination at work. What a lovely poem to read on a dark December day, bringing a brief flash of sand and sunshine.
Hello, this is a sweet little seasonal poem, and you've drawn upon plenty of appropriate images to write about. You've written in rhyming couplets, and none of them seem forced.
The syllable count for each line is very varied, from just six syllables on the first line, to several with eleven syllables. This breaks up the flow of words as your poem is read. One way that you could improve it, is to choose a specific syllable length, and then try and make each line that length. Whilst this isn't essential, it can often help.
I like this quite as much as the other poem you have posted, (Using Up My Words). So many glimpses of your inner life, and exquisitely expressed. The opening two lines are my favourites, although they are but two amongst many. 'Unaware the true art of listening, Is hearing what was never said.' - a rare insight, and of course listening requires more effort than mere hearing.
I do hope that you post more poetry here, this is amongst the best that I have read on WDC.
This is simply wonderful. I especially liked 'And you made me feel so blue,
Until it became my favourite colour.', but these lines are just the cream of a very rich crop.
The four line stanzas seem self contained, and related to one another. They seem to be sharing the protagonist's insights about themself, and their relationship with the world, but also, I think, with someone special to them.
The rhymes on the second and four lines of each stanza don't feel forced, and because the first and third lines do not rhyme, they don't sound twee. Which means your poem sounds pretty good when read aloud.
Some of the lines are a little long, 'Collecting the freedom that ripples through the broken cages', in particular might benefit from being tweaked and shortened, but this is a minor quibble. Excellent writing. Thank you for sharing this.
This intriguing little tale hints at much larger stories. There is a conversation between a transcendent, who has never been human, and a Japanese man, who seems eligible to transcend, but hasn't. Nothing is resolved as such, but the transcendent learns a little from him and promises a return with more questions.
As a reader I am left wondering what started humanity moving, and continuing to move towards transcendence, so much so that the population is dwindling. And my question is not so much 'why?', as 'how?' Then I'm wondering, where do transcendents, (if they can actually be called that), that weren't once human actually come from?
I really enjoyed reading this through a few times. It would be great to read more and perhaps discover some answers.
What a beautiful evocation of the month. I really like the way you have used the Trois-par-Huit form here, the poem has such pleasant and appropriate imagery, I particularly love line two.
I see that this is themed as Dark, but I have to say, I think it is rather beautiful. Relatives that have predeceased the protagonist helping her to move on, and a calm understanding resolution. I hope the dog will be alright. That's the power of a story like this, you've made me care about the protagonist, and her dog. The ending was a complete surprise, and I read it twice in a sort of disbelief. Really well written, and most impressive.
Utterly brilliant. Love the imagery that you've employed, the cat's attitude, pretty much everything about this poem is perfect. I think you have captured the essence of the uncollapsed event here. The deja vu moment near the end with the slight twist to another reality is clever indeed. Never thought of Schrödinger's Cat as having half lives before, another stroke of genius.
This has to be one of the strangest pieces I've read in a while. My only problem with it, is that it leaves so many things unanswered. Like why did he take his pants off? You've written a fascinating script, and I'd love to see where you'd take it next. I'm not greatly familiar with the correct way to present a script, but it looked fine to me, and I didn't see any typos either.
Firstly, yours is one of the best hooks I have seen, 'Featuring private investigators, London commuters and bacon sandwiches.' How could I not want to read!
I admit to misreading, and was vaguely puzzled as to how or why Mrs Clifton’s stalker had sprayed her with signature scent, then I felt really foolish as the sentence clicked into making proper sense.
You've written a great short story, with a neat little twist. I didn't spot any typos, nothing was missing, in short - excellent. Thanks for brightening my evening.
What is intriguing about your short story is that it reads a lot like a conventional science fiction, "We've all got to get off Earth, because it's doomed' plot, and yet there are elements that seem to describe a spiritual journey. This is of course supported by the genres that you selected for the story.
What I think is needed, is more to go on, development that will place who is speaking, what his or her relationship to Jenaya. I find a really useful way to develop a tale, is to try and ask the questions that anyone reading what I've written so far would be likely to ask. For example, what is happening that specifically is driving the protagonists desire to leave Earth?
One sentence I think needs looking at is "Later I entered the cadet school, where after hard training we were ready to fly." It starts with 'I', but ends with 'we', who does we include?
Overall I like what you've written so far, and it would be great if you could add some flesh to the bones. Welcome to WDC, I hope you find it helps you to write more, and enjoy doing so.
I sent a really detailed review of your piece, but weirdly it came back 'Invalid Author', not sure what that's about, so I'll try again. Your scary tale of the ██████ was very original, no wonder it stirred up so much interest with the various agencies that look after [REDACTED]. I hope it won the contest, but sadly I think ██████ is a rather divisive subject.
Love the subversive way you've done this, very original approach. Keep ██████ !!!
Writing about something that you love is always a great idea, because that love will show through. Despite this being a short piece, your enthusiasm for the keyboard shines through.
There are a couple of tweaks that might improve it a little, and it is worth editing your poems, if only so you don't see the same corrections mentioned over and over.
On the end of the first line you have the item number, which should probably go. The other point is that the keyboard starts out as an 'It', but ends up as a 'He'. If this is your intention then obviously it doesn't need changing, but you might consider changing lines to be consistent throughout, "He is white and black....", "..my mood, I make him sing" etc.
Hope this is helpful, but always it's your poem, please feel free to ignore what doesn't fit with how you are trying to express yourself. Welcome to WDC, hope to see more of your work.
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