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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Painted Glassdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Krazy
    Elite Ratio:    6.34 - 346/310/46
    Words: 109
    Class/Type: Poetry/Angry
    Total Views: 1388
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 756



    Description:
       I think I may be bitter. Some call it grieving, I guess. (I fixed it a little, just punctuation wise.)


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsPainted Glassdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Pour the slick slop of longing thick, over
    Packed soil and boxed up cherished flesh.

    Swallow exhalations of anguish and desperation.

    Clutch at hopes that every waking moment,
    Is but a nightmare disguised as reality.

    Paint a grin on a face abused by sympathy.

    Slather your words with well wishes and
    Empty promises that tomorrow will be better;
    That this acerbic behavior is temporary.

    Coddle the little broken hearts into believing-
    Everything turns out okay in the end.

    Happiness is only a frail piece of painted glass;
    Hold it too close and it will shatter.
    Sending pretty little daggers into anything vital




    Submitted on 2010-07-10 02:23:41     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      "a nightmare disguised as reality"

    you have so many juxtapositions of opposites here...intriguing piece...

    reality sucks...but let's mask it...let's not admit...let's think the best, be naive...

    but the problem is "the pretty little daggers"
    will get us anyway in the end...

    so let's just face the bad, and move on from it..

    or something like that...

    it's harsh and hopeful at the same time...

    maybe we will wake up from the nightmare...and the reality won't be so scary...

    or maybe that which creates harm, has an odd beauty about it...embracing the evil.

    this has a bevy of mixed feelings...

    "a grin on the face abused by sympathy"

    i like that...maybe we baby ourselves too much...try to always lighten the gravity of things...put the best face forward...and maybe that is not good.

    really like this.
    | Posted on 2011-04-07 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
      The revision is nice, I'm still stumbling on the 2nd line I keep trying to change it to: Packed soil boxes up cherished flesh.

    <3
    | Posted on 2011-03-25 00:00:00 | by Rain | [ Reply to This ]
      First off, I love you.

    The imagery that you use in this is awesome; "paint a face on" & "pretty little daggers" Very powerful.

    I wish there would have been some punctuation, even if it was just in one or two places; I kept trying to put it in as I was reading and so the flow was a bit interupted. But then again, this write isn't about flow.

    ~
    | Posted on 2011-03-22 00:00:00 | by Rain | [ Reply to This ]
       Is this the twisted dark poem you spoke about? I would hazard a guess it is because it’s so full of confusion and loathing at the unfairness of the world. It would probably be wrong of me to say I liked this because the subject matter is such a personal, sensitive one. But, Bonneh, you’ve done something very articulate here. It beats with that grasping, pulsating emotion living inside of you. The anger is there, too, with the ‘empty promises’ and unwanted ‘well wishes’ and the lies whispering of better days come tomorrow. Just that juxtaposition of words between ‘abused’ and ‘sympathy’ when describing the mask you have to wear when facing the outside world, hiding what’s really going through your head, disguising how ripped up your soul is, is a wonderfully bitter description. The run-through sentences and absence of punctuation really helps here, too. It conveys such an outpouring of all these thoughts --thoughts you’ve probably had bottled up for a while—and just letting loose with them, uncaring of any reactions or comebacks.

    I would have liked to see more and, I think, if you had allowed yourself, there would be a lot more ready to come out. I feel like that despite the bitterness, those last two lines in the poem hint at the state of your injured heart, and that this piece doesn’t ever fully explore that. Maybe it would be too dangerous for you to even dwell on those emotions right now and it was safest for you to pause there before letting them break free. But really, Butterfly, those last two lines are almost achingly beautiful because they’re true. There’s this fragility to happiness because you know that it’s always going to be short-lived, that it will never last as long as you want it to, because everything, everything in this life, comes to an end. We just have to hold onto those shining moments and remember them in all their glorious detail. Memories are as close as we can get to them in the end.

    Brave write, Butterfly.

    | Posted on 2010-07-10 00:00:00 | by Jacoby | [ Reply to This ]
      Another thought I had while re-reading this is that I love how the daggers are pretty. Do you think pain in its own way is beautiful too?
    | Posted on 2010-07-10 00:00:00 | by Soul-Hugger | [ Reply to This ]
      Grief has many phases, of which bitterness is one. It usually sets in after first the sadness, then the anger is gone, so in that sense, it is progress.

    I found this interesting. There is no punctuation and really no form. Though some of what can be found within is really quite good, you have to go searching for it because this is a wall of words, literally a torrent, with no defined beginning and no defined end. Maybe that's the way you intended it to be, but I would be interested to see what this would look like if you broke it up a little more so there is a visual effect as well as an emotional one. Really what you're talking about is being broken, and perhaps that doesn't go well with such a solid form.

    ***

    Pour the slick slop of longing thick
    Over packed soil and boxed up cherished flesh.

    Swallow exhalations of anguish and desperation;
    Clutch at hopes that every waking moment
    Is but a nightmare disguised as reality -
    Paint a grin on a face abused by sympathy.

    Slather your words with well wishes and
    Empty promises that tomorrow will be better;
    That this acerbic behavior is temporary.

    Coddle the little broken hearts into believing
    Everything turns out okay in the end.

    Happiness is only a frail piece of painted glass:
    Hold it too close and it will shatter
    (Sending pretty little daggers into anything vital)


    ***

    Or you could try leaving it in a block, adding the punctuation, but splitting it up in a more startling way. There are actually many ways you could do this, but my first sentiment is that this is a job well-done in terms of words and the images brought about by them.

    soul-hugger




    | Posted on 2010-07-10 00:00:00 | by Soul-Hugger | [ Reply to This ]


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