Pages turning; words are written; I open the pen's cap. Can this be loved, or does it pass by uncaring eyes, leaving others untouched?
Yesterdays grabs at my today, and attempts to blind my tomorrow, but there is one yesterday that barely ever appears― a painful yesterday I need to learn and grow from― that was the beginning of my journey. Sadly, there are now pillows all over it, so now while I can remember it, I can't feel it, and I don't know if the angels would show it to me again. I'd like that yesterday, that gave me great pain―and meaning to return.
Piano plays a beautiful song while I search everywhere trying to find the words
Walking down a path alone, where I gave my most serenity filled smile ever, and the pure of nature must have smiled back at me. I see an open field in my backyard; in my mind and to my brother, I call it the Garden of Eden. It's just so weird how I was in love with everyday I got to spend outside; Even with the oh so many mountains I have to climb, it made me happy, but who's not happy walking through a tunnel of trees.
Truth be told
I always imagine myself on the other side, when in actuality, I don't think I've even taken the first step. I wait for and try to create the day where strength comes out of me as if bleeding. Is it possible miracles aren't a one time thing, but everyday? I know to be breathing is a miracle in and of itself, but what about doing more than breathing; how about a dream coming true, or even two dreams coming true right next to each others? A miracle I wish for is to "be" then "stay" strong, and escape this yo-yo effect so deeply in my life, but not a wish on a star or birthday candle.
Someone once told me to always have hope, that doesn't mean never crying your eyes out, it means hope will give you a tissue.
I do like this pice. Could I suggest a name? "The Power of Hope" or "Hopes Powers" ? They're only suggestions, of course, and they might not work for you but just an idea!
There are a few thigns that I would change with this. But you don't have to, of course. It's your piece. I'm just here to offer advice
The first stanza, there is a line that says; "Can this be loved?" I'm not sure that this makes much sense in the context. I don't know whether you meant to write "Can this be love?" or whether you meant loved. But I stumbled over it when I read it.
I feel like you use 'now' too often in the second stanza so perhaps you could look at cutting that a bit? Also the description of yesterday as having "pillows" over it confuses me. Not the best image/metaphor/whatever you want to call it?
Third stanza - "and the pure of nature" - this definitely makes no sense and needs revision. Think about what you were trying to say and how to say it better.
"Truth be told" - as a single line this doesn't really work. Perhaps you could add something here to create a few lines, as you did with the two lines about the piano previously.
I like the ending, it's strong and a good description of what hope is This is a lovely poem. But I have to agree with the last comment; I think it would work better if you expanded on it a bit more and turned it into a prose piece!
Thank you for your critique. Funny, when I was first submitting this, I thought it was seriously good, but after only 11 faves, and this not being accepted in a certain group, I know am seeing that it's not as good as I thought. But to clarify some things.
The first stanza, is kinda an intro to the poem; the line "Can this be loved?" is referring to the poem itself, Will this poem be loved?
Can you explain what you mean by using now too much?
And in the second stanza, what I meant by having pillows over it, is that it doesn't give me the same painful feeling it used to, like how pillows soften your fall. But I guess that's not so good!
Would "pureness" of nature make more sense?
Yes, that's right I guess. I should've thought of something more.
Thank you very much, and this would work better as a prose I guess.
Strange, I think this piece has more power because I can't percieve the subject. The words get across your struggle, without revealing the actual conflict. It keeps me curious. I feel the very fact that the pain is hidden is what constitutes it with the stuff of revelation.
The metaphor with the tissue at the end is a little sudden, and kind of in contrast with the tone of the rest of the poem, but good job.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More