I Like this very much. I am here because "I long to be published". So far, I believe I can do it here. Thanks to this review system, I feel like I am back in school. I am here to learn, and better myself as a human being and as a writer. That is not to say that this is anykind of utopia here. This is real life and as in any place in real life, bad apples and weirdos abound.You have to take the good with the bad and learn how to deal with it.
Well, fellow author, let us begin by getting the "unpleasant" business out of the way first.
Let us begin with the description directly below your title:
"If you think about what I wrote...it might could happen."
"it might could" is not good, or proper English. It is "bad" English. "It might happen", or "could happen", is acceptable English.
"o god" should be "oh, God".
"already started hawling me inside"- "hauling".
The beginning of your poem is outstanding! I loved the bit about the "knocks", and then the "taps". Excellent writing. Then you mention "house" , "lights turn on", "opened the door". I suddenly felt like I was standing on the doorstep of my Great Grand God-Mother's house! This is the residence of "Death"? You can do a little better than this. You proved that in the very beginning of this poem.
I would like to add a personal note in conclusion. I have met Mr. Death personally. I burst through his door at over 120 miles per hour. I was in the passenger seat, and there was a girl sitting between me and the driver. We went through a telephone pole and wrapped around a rather large oak tree at the bottom of the hill. I literally drowned in my own blood just as the jaws of life arrived. I had stopped breathing and my heart had ceased to beat. The paramedics managed to revive me. I was in a coma for over a week. I know his face and I know where he lives. That's all I have to say. You know what I remember? I remember the horrorific screaming of that 17 yearold girl, not from the fact of the engine coming through the firewall and taking her legs underneath the car, but from the fact that the driver had KILLED ME!
There are much worse things than Mr. Death, my friend. If you decide to do any revision with this and need a hand, I would consider it an honor if you called upon me. Thank you.
Well, you seem to be on the path to becoming an epic poet. I liked Captain Redd. I can see him in my mind, hurtling aboard the Housatonic with pistol and cutlass in his hands. Ethel is a girl I'd love to meet. Just my type.
Two things:
1) "Black Ethel Bonney was his secret love
The kind of "woman" he always dreamed of..."
2) "Many a "man" she has fought..."
Your flow of the poem needs a little work and a few lines need to be tightened up by jettisoning some of that excess baggage found in those lengthy lines, but I enjoyed this. It was wonderful. Hone your skills, as well as your blade, matey! You'll get better at it.
And by the way, I have heard that the USS Housatonic is in port awaiting YOUR inspection. Thanks for a pleasant read that brought me a smile, fellow Author.
I see that you are looking for detailed reviewing with numbers 1 through 25. They stand as well as those sections unmarked do. It is, overall, a very well written piece concerning small slices of life in Kansas. Very descriptive, and true to life also. I spent a good amount of time living in Kansas some years ago on one of my "walkabouts".
My problem with this is whether this is fiction, or not. You don't say anywhere that I could see. That information does affect my rating. I hope this helps you.
I am not a romantic person. I am a "twisted" romantic person. However, I can appreciate this poem immensly! The very few times I have danced, have always been slow dances that I have turned into an erotic celebration of the art form.
There was this one girlie who was a barmaid on the West Side of the city some years ago. I would walk in, order a shot and a beer on Friday night when she was working. I would drink the shot and then play the jukebox. The tune would always be "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones. She would slinky-walk from out behind the bar, put her arms around me, and slow dance with me to that song. Didn't matter how busy it was. In a husky low voice I would murmer the lyrics into her ear.
"Let me please introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste.
Been around for a long, long year,
Stole many a man's soul and faith.
I was around when Jesus Christ had his moment of doubt and pain.
Made damn sure that Pilate washed his hands and sealed his fate."
My pecks drew blood. Kim loved it! She would pour me drinks all night for nothing.
Ah, enough of the past and slow dancing! I think you have a problem with the very first stanza. Please allow me to illustrate.
"He is tall and stronger than a lot of men,
He will pin me if I don’t give in."
This whole line smacks to me of forcible sex, RAPE in capital letters. I find it offensive to say the least. It greatly detracts from an otherwise beautiful piece, and the worst part is that it is in the very first stanza. It turns away a sensitive reader before they even can be allowed into the gist of the poem.
A suggestion, beautiful Author. Just words for thought. Something to think about. Something a little more subtle and "vague";
"He is tall and stronger than many men.
He will love me now, He will love me again."
See what I mean, Becky? Try it out. Play with it. I think that with a little "polish" this can be one of your more outstanding works!
This is defintely "rough" in some spots, but the message is clear and, most importantly, a pure one. A little bit of editing and rearranging in the troublesome lines would make this poem even more beautiful.
What is this thing of writing in colors? I read another poem yesterday that was in "colors". That one did a number on my poor old "colorblind" eyes, and this one was even worse! But from the first couple of lines, I felt it would be worth the read, just as the one yesterday was.
The important thing here, fellow Author, is that you are writing from the "heart", and it is plainly evident for all the world to see. Writing like this will get you noticed. You are not bombarding the reader with "inequality", "injustice", or "Woman's Eternal Struggle". No, you are simply stating facts in a fresh, and hearfelt, manner. Good for you! But take a good look at your poem and clean up the rough spots. It would help your poem to reach its full potential. By the way, I raised a pack of girls. I called each one my "sister". If you need any kind of help with this, call me and leave a message. I'll do what I can, but get rid of the colors before I look at this again.
Here's a gift to you in honor of your writing style;
Girls so pure, so frail,
Girls like a steel rail.
Girls at home cooking meals,
Girls out in 4inch spiked heels.
Girls who say what's on their mind,
Girls who put up with our kind.
Girls who laugh, and who cry,
Girls who never say goodbye.
Girls we should have mailed a letter,
Girls we should have treated better.
Girls we should have called on the phone,
Girls we should have called our Home!
The reason I stopped here was because I saw this item had no ratings. I'm not "turning tail" on this!
The first thing is a glaring "typo/misspelling" in the first stanza. "Persue", you want "Pursue".
The second thing is you raise "old age" questions concerning "why this?", "why that?". Take a stab at voicing some possible solutions. It couldn't make things any worse.
The third thing is you mention a man's name. I feel the piece could do without it. You are "prejudicing" the piece by having it there. If you want to mention names, then mention two names. Bobby Kennedy spoke the same message and died in the same manner, almost at the same time. What's fair is fair.
Nice challenge, nicely done. I'm going with the Griffon on this one. There are several different spellings for the name depending on what culture you are reading, but this seems to be the most commonly used. Did anybody else guess this? Just curious. Thanks for a nice early morning brain-teaser. I enjoyed it!
Ah, the fleetness and fickleness of fame! Here is another breath of fresh air! A simple poem with a simple message. No death, no lost love, no message containing earth-shattering revelations. A simple poem.
Pleasing to the eye and mind. More aspiring poets should take note of "Open Stage", and take a lesson from it. Learned a lesson here myself. Everything doesn't need a punchline. It's nice to have a soft carees sometimes intead of a slap in the face all of the time! Well done, my dear Author!
Cheers for you, Missy! Being "newbie" myself, I was beginning to think I had actually made a mistake in my career decision. That the work I have had published locally in southern and central New York were just "flukes". My Mother always told me though, that every barrel full has at least a few rotten ones in it.
She said that the only reason why we pay attention to them, anf that there seems to be so many of them, is BECAUSE THEY STINK!!! Those apples' existence stinks so bad that they try and make the good ones stink right along with them. Well here's something those apples can review:
Once upon a time there was a rotten apple in a barrel. His lousy existence stunk so bad, all the good apples died.
THE END
The first thing I look for, and comment on,in a review is the "heart" of the matter in question. This heart is pure and without imperfections from what this humble reviewer can see.
The second point concerns the actual reading of the piece. It reads well. It reads very comfortably, and most importantly, it is an enjoyable read. No stumbling blocks here. No glaring typos, or misspellings, THAT I CAN SEE. I don't search a piece of literature to find inconsequential flaws, or deformities upon first reading. I search for the "Heart and Soul". That is my first priority. I felt so comfortable with "Moonlightning" in my respect for the gentle, noble beast, that I felt no compunction to go back and find some miniscule imperfection in his character or actual physical makeup. Children would love this story. I've read many of them to many a child. But "Where the Wild Things Are" still RULES ALL! A beautiful job my fellow Author!
I don't know. Yes, the descriptive imagery is very
much present. It seems to be a powerful force behind
the words here. It wants to bloom, it wants to become
beauty incarnate. But these tiny buds which are lying
dormant are being WITHERED by the Wind of Misdirection.
Confusion stunts them, and I assume thoughtlessness is
destroying them. What a shame that these buds of such
potential beauty are dying simply because they lack a little love and care from their creator. It's not too
late to save them!
This is very good, Claudia. It appears to be a light
kind of Gothic, here also, I feel you need to deliver a
little more punch somewhere. The most glaring mistake in it is a wrong word;
"They hold her tight and whisper in her ear
The VERSUS she once sang..."
King Kong VERSUS Godzilla
You want
John Lennon sang the VERSES to his songs.
Good job, your on the right track.
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