The wind howling through the fingers
of a thousand dying trees
as they twist and writhe in its hands.
The moon glowing
against a velvet sky
and hushed up feelings.
The eyes of the night see everything,
a raging heart and pulsating veins.
Whispers of icy wind flutter through my ears
enveloping me in serenity,
lifting me up past the clouds
of hate and despair.
Past the smell of fire and brimstone
through the razor blades
and blood-soaked soil.
the angels, raven haired and razor winged,
crawling underneath a cold, black sky.
The wind creeping across my open chest,
an infested spirit screeching in pain
Okay, so now my critiques are nowhere near as long as the other ones, but... I'm a writer. Not a poet. And I'm afraid to add this to my favourites list, too. I'll seem like one of those newbies who adores everything they read. But, well.. I -do- adore it!
Dream poetry is something I've always enjoyed reading. It's so much simpler to comprehend, though the ideas are usually complex.
The last line...
Help me, save me from reality
really caught me. I've heard it before.. Overused and all.. But it seemed to finish off the poem beautifully. Everything about it was completely.. Different. I almost couldn't get the feel of the piece until the end, and that surprised me. In a good way. If the emotion just jumped right out, I probably wouldn't have appreciated it as much.
Anyway, yes, I adore it. You've got yourself another fan. :P
one of the great things about writing is that there arent any rules you have to follow. you can express things just how you want. It does not matter if others dont understand it, you are just tying to express yourself not necessarily trying make people understand you. Thats the way I always think about it when I'm trying to avoid clichés, also just describe things differently.
Instead of saying 'sweet sorrow' you can say something that means the same thing to you only worded differently such as 'sorrow with hints of vanilla'
I really like your line about 'hushed up feelings'
I liked how you refered to the trees as fingers, and the wind blowing through them...it kinda adds this personal level to it, you know? I agree with Maevity on the angel thing. Definitely all angels are not sweet and angelic as a lot of people make them out to be. Apparently Satan was an angel...that didn't stop him from doing what people deem as wrong, did it? Reality is not safe for one's mind anymore, if you think about it. You hear so much of how death causes people to go into depression, and if it's a dearly loved person you've known for a very long time, some people even loose there minds. Reality can also make people think too much, the intellectual people, and thinking too much can be a burden in itself (trying to be modest but I'm like that, and from what I've read of your peotry and your critiques, you are too) However, living in your own little world that you make for yourself to hide away isn't so safe either, for you can become lost in it and never find your way back out of it. Sure, it feels great to escape from reality's many burdens, but ignoring what's out there isn't the way to go. I liked how this was debated throughout the poem, then pointed it out at the very end. Over-all, great poem, I'm glad you're on this site.
Parts are cliché, the nighttime is described in a mundane sort of way that has been done over and over again. That's the trouble with writing about things people write about all the time, you can't just invent words, so you end up having to reuse them. It's called rehash, and it's hard to avoid.
I don't get the second half, everything from: "lifting me up past the clouds" on.
You say the clouds are of: despair and hate, but I saw no previous reference in the piece to their reasons for being so.
Likewise, the reasons for the air smelling of brimstone, and heaven being so dark and horrid are left to speculation, and in poetry speculation is only helpful to the goal of the poem in moderation.
I would suggest writing more in the middle about the reasoning for the state of these things, or at least, in the future, keep in mind that you have to give reason for things of this nature, since they otherwise just... pop into existence.
I do not think that this is cliché at all. In contrast, I believe that it is very well written, with your indication that the angels are not at all angelic, with the white garb etc, and with the fingers of the dead trees...it made me think of Sleepy Hollow, or Nathaniel Hawthorne's 'Young Goodman Brown'. It is a cry from the inside, a grey world that needs to be noticed. Am I stating the obvious? I shall stop this at once. As for structure [for I am a stickler for free structure] I am impressed. Rhyming would have been wrong, wrong, wrong, and you didn't force it upon this unsuspecting poem. I respect that. I also like the sporadic use of capitalization in the first letter of each line--it makes it flow like a thought, and a feeling, and a passionate idea rather than something where you payed too much attention to where you dictated grammar and style. Your use of adjectives, and contrasting nouns such as 'raven haired and razor winged' and 'the moonlight glowing/against a velvet sky' add to the aesthetics of the poem, as well as the imagery. Now that I really think about your images, I see myself more in a Buffy the Vampire Slayer serious scene than in Sleepy Hollow, though both seem to click as settings. It is like a wonderful mix of the two, where a darkened soul is striving to escape the shadows and devils of reality. I must say that I liked this one.