His handwriting grew smaller when he was starved,
battered and jagged after he was beaten.
He defiantly wrote though that was his crime
not knowing if anyone would ever read it,
yet he had no desire for immortality,
for he knew his life would soon end.
Words were the only things still under his control,
and he played with them as cruelly and daringly
as his captors toyed with his life.
"he was starved" is a bit odd in my ears. but I learned yesterday that what sounds odd in my ears musn't necassarily be wrong (had to do an English test at university, the beginning was okay and easy but then it became harder...). anyway the only question I have about this piece is why is writing his crime?? that's what I don't understand. yes, words can be very powerful but if no one ever reads them... that's my only criticism. the rest is very good.
Hey! This reminds me so much of a story that was recently on the news around my area. A young boy was locked up in his room and starved. Literally. They showed part of his starved body on the news, it was horrible. This poem makes it real in my mind. All he had was himself during those times. I love this twist on it, that he only had words to help him escape. Good job. :) -blt
Please... Mandela was hardly ill treated hey... I thought this was well written. It reads easily and creates vivid images of the poor suffering writer. Well done as usual... I don't think you need to rest... your talent is still very much alive and well.
Have you ever read George Orwells 1984? coz this has serious overtones of the main character: this makes really vivid links to emotions and images and your control of words really helps people to connect: another great job. That reaminds me: I need to write in my journal: thanks 4 the read
I won't get into as much spacifics as joey but I agree you could tighten it up some. Don't get me wrong, I always like your work and look forward to each new one I see and this piece was still enjoyable as usual.
I like this, but I kind of want more. Is this about Solzhenitzen [I know I'm spelling that wrong] or Mandela, somebody else, or just a generic poem? Anyway, I like what you've got so far-some tweaking I'm suggesting [as always, feel free to take or leave it].
His handwriting grew smaller when he was starved, – MAYBE CHANGE ‘WAS STARVED’ TO ‘HADN'T EATEN FOR DAYS’?? ADD COMMA AT END TO CONTINUE THOUGHT battered and jagged after he was beaten – MAYBE DROP ‘IT WAS’?? He defiantly wrote though it sent him there Not knowing if anyone would ever read it he had no desire for immortality – DELETE ‘YET’ For he knew his life would soon end Words the only things still under his control – DELETE ‘WERE' He played with them as cruelly and daringly As his captors toyed with his life