Give Me This -------------------------------------------
I long for a story painted by verse
With notes soothing but strong
To feel my way through paradise
While quietly sitting at home
As a war inside wages
I want thick pages
of neatly scripted runes
Once upon a time
I thought nothing of rhyme
and rhythm was a lost cause
but now I can't shake this...
I've tried to break this...
Wanting for something more
Take me to a place I've never seen
Somewhere filled with hope
Let us float down a river of words
Into the core of it all
Where nothing means everything
And everything, nothing
Yet all is centered 'round life
Make me believe
That my deepest dream
Is not a dying art...
They used to write Christmas wishes like this, you know in all those specials you used to watch. Kind of like a lover wishing for the others safe return.
The first stanza comprises two linked, yet different thoughts. The “object” and its description followed by its significance. They are not blended to the best of your ability when I look at it critically. The reason I bring this up is it appears you are trying to use stanza format to extrapolate the jointing of your thought pattern, this and two sentences into stanza four you make abrupt changes in course. It makes me feel slightly jarred during my reading, unsettled. The rhyming scheme also seems nonchalant with end rhyme, alliteration, and assonance being randomly placed and intertwined.
You spilt sentences in places like,
“I thought nothing of rhyme
and rhythm was a lost cause”
which causes a dramatic effect I appreciate very much, and yet in other places you split them as if you are simply trying to fit the word to space. Do not feel limited to the box that you want your work to be perceived. You pick your words; pick how to lay them to move yourself or your audience. If you are dead set on a format, then first let your pen fly write your words and you can go back and alter them so their placement is significant.
Something very important to the subject begins in the 4th stanza, the manner of tone changes from wanting to needing, a plea to a prayer. This serious tone continues to the end. Yet the 4th stanza remains unclear. Perhaps it is that the subject starts with a smaller demand, and as they have approached this point all things the subject needs this object to be are becoming so intricate words are failing to logically describe them.
It leaves me questions is the “story” one’s life or purpose? Is the core the meaning of the subject’s existence? Who will grant this person faith, God or something only known to them? How long with their faith last ‘til it fails, has it already?
You have used many of the mechanisms of stream-of-thought writing here. It works in an enjoyable way, but it needs a lot of refinement. I find that very difficult to do since I am so used to writing down what first pops into my head, my stream. It’s the writing you do afterward that makes all the difference though. Thanks for posting, Bon.
I like this, the thought, the flow, the word choice.
I have one qualm, and it's that through all of this, through the stubborn, almost feverish desire to obtain this artistic... oneness... You seem so inconsistent and unsure of your rhymes, you rhyme here and there, but they are eye rhymes most often, and seem either unintentional or ill conceived, which, though not a huge detriment to this piece, is slightly annoying once you notice it.
Read the first two stanzas outloud to yourself, I think you might pick up on it once you hear it.
"Wanting for something more" is where it seems to lose itself and dissapate.
Other than that, I really liked this piece. Keep it up, and if you haven't already, take a look at that freakin' site!
I really like this; too me it's both really sad yet a bit hopeful though I don't know if that's what you were going for. I love how the whole things pulls together and the flow of the whole thing is sort of smoothing (if that makes any sense?)
Sort of OT, but the picture on the top made me laugh out loud and scare my Boo kitty lol.
Take me to a place I've never seen
Somewhere filled with hope
Let us float down a river of words
Into the core of it all
Where nothing means everything
And everything, nothing
Yet all is centered 'round life
Make me believe
That my deepest dream
Is not a dying art...
An endless addiction
to all that is written
unwritten and smitten
a lover of words and the whirling verse
in an omnibus rattling over stones
and all that is good
and all that is pure
and all that is raw
and all that is new...
Submission Name: Give Me This
