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"Her Favorite Colors"


Author: Raven_s Miser
ASL Info:    16-female- wap
Elite Ratio:    4.64 - 68 /54 /18
Words: 163
Class/Type: Poetry /Broken
Total Views: 1286
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 986



Description:


I am in general looking 4 any commentary you may have.

the backing on this poem is about alittle girl who was abused by her father in particular. and as it is to read her favorite colors were black and blue( color od bruises) this child had nothing to look forward to and nothing to loose. because in the eyes of this child there was nothing she could ever do to make her father love her . And she now just lets her father hurt her so she can show the world his love 4 her by the marks and bloodshed he has given her... at that they were the only gifts that he had given her besides the life she now thinks she shouldn't have had to begin with.
i went through this and this was really a reconciliation of what it was like for me and so many others that I have met in my life with the same story that they choose to hide.


"Her Favorite Colors"



Her favorite colors are black and blue
for they were the only colors that truely
shone through.
It showed once in a lifetime those colors so true it was the perfect hue of black and blue.
When the darkness lifted,
the mood shifted .
She arose from the darkness and walked to the door, she didn't want to be ther anymore.
She walked to the door for all to see what her life was meant to be.
Yhe sudden silence the time of forgiveness it wasn't there for anyone to see.

what they saw was a broke wound that bled profoundly upon the satin skin with dissilusion.
there was no solution
there was no conclusion.

The emptyness inside
was a lie she kept confided

There was no truth
there was reality
No words to be said
about how she bled
It amased her to see what her life wasn't meant to be.

Samantha Renaud




Submitted on 2004-12-31 14:56:27     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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Comments


  It was good. But I think that it confused me a bit. At first I thought it was from bruises. But then my attention was distracted from it and I'm not sure. It cunfuses me a little now. As for the poem, it was ok. I think that you could have said "was a lie she kept in confinds" but other than that it was good. The ryhme was decent and the flow was also decent. Although it was too comlicated honestly. You use such collegate words for such a simple work. I'm not saying I don't understand that but, when you mix complicated and simple you get ...ok. Nothing spectacular and nothing bad.
Just a few comments.
Joe
| Posted on 2005-06-10 00:00:00 | by Restless_Heart | [ Reply to This ]
  Dear Renaud. I am a father and I never abused my children. I really feel for you and that makes it difficult for me to read your poetry properly. I agree with Storm of Bliss that you need to revise it. Strong emotion of any sort is a wonderful source of strength, inspiration and energy to create a poem. That is all done by the right side of your brain and then you have to use the clever left side of your brain ton polish it up. I am including here a proper love of daughters poem which I wrote 32 years ago for my own daughter who doesn't need it now, so this poem's for you.

My Baby Daughter

Little lady, wicked kid
dressed in orange organdie,
a-ba-boo my baby girl,
would you change your place with me?
Through the window of your skull
throbs a little purple vein,
the vellum of your tender skin
stretched across the pane.
I could snap your greenstick thighs
or crush your eggshell head,
or simply never heed your cries
and let you starve instead.
Oh sob and scream my little lass
and lie in wet and misery,
and then again sweetheart, I’ll ask,
Will you change your place with me?
Oh let your little body now
be wound upon the windy rack,
and colic crease your pretty brow
and arch your supple back.
Little lady, wicked kid,
dressed in orange organdie,
now dare defy your dad.
Won’t you change your place with me?
No, daughter, rest in peace,
frail and fragile little ball.
Talcum soothe your every crease
and dill your every squall.
I cannot harm a single hair
upon your downy head,
nor ignore the slightest peep
my little lady ever said.
But my precarious seed,
prey to hunger, thirst and pain,
despite your elemental need,
I’d gladly change with you again.
| Posted on 2004-12-31 00:00:00 | by hanuman | [ Reply to This ]
  I'll be honest. This poem was beautiful, but it needs a lot of work. I guess I'll start with the good first.

You conveyed your feelings in a very original format and I would say that you took some time working on it. The rhyming in most cases was clever and wasn't your everyday "too" and "you" and stuff like that. I liked the idea that she was trying to show the world these "gifts" but they - unlike her - saw them for what they were, and left her stranded and lost in a sort of huge delusion that was her life. That was interesting.

However, in some places you shoved a bunch of phrases and clauses up together and everything got very convoluted. There were also spelling mistakes that were obviously the result of keyboarding problems (I do that all the time; it's not just you). And, of course, there were the usual spelling/grammatical errors. Here's my ideas for a revision.

Her favorite colors were black and blue
for they were the only cones that could truly
shine through.
Those perfect hues of black and blue.
When the darkness lifted,
the mood shifted.
She arose from the darkness and walked to the door,
she didn't want to be there anymore.
She walked to the door for all to see
what her life was meant to be.
The sudden silence, the time of forgiveness - it wasn't there for all to see.

What they saw was a broken wound
that bled profoundly upon the satin skin
with disillusion.
There was no solution
there was no conclusion.

The emptyness inside
was a lie she wouldn't confide.

There was no truth
Only reality
No words to be said
about how she bled
It amazed her to see
What her life wasn't meant to be.

I also cleaned up a little bit on some of the more poetical aspects of this poem. . . flow, rhyme, and the like. But like Storm of Bliss said, this poem is extremely indepth for someone of your age. Great work!

-Secret
| Posted on 2004-12-31 00:00:00 | by secret moon | [ Reply to This ]
  oh god. i'm going to get thrashed for this one. thankfully this isn't some rich-kid cutter poem. Sadly, its composition doesn't show anything above the level of those poems. you epeat a lot of lines in different grammatical consrtuctions. like the first lines.
"Her favorite COLORSare BLACK AND BLUE
for they were the only COLORS that TRUELY
shone through.
It showed once in a lifetime those colors so TRUEit was the perfect hue of BLACK AND BLUE."
also there are a number of spelling errors.
without commenting on your personal life, if you must include such a lengthy description and include that you are a victim, then your poem cannot stand on its own, and needs ome wrk. Also, though i know this is not the case and you are only wishing to stress the seriousness of your story and topic, it does come across as though you are attempting to avoid constructive criticism by trying to make it look like anyone who doesn't like your poem is attacking you personally. which is not the case.
| Posted on 2005-01-01 00:00:00 | by lukewarm | [ Reply to This ]
  I think this quite a good poem with lots of emotion. I like how the theme is her favourite colours being black and blue, it is original and clever. I do think it needs to be set out better to make it easier to find the rythem which would make it easier to read.

love from Heather
x
| Posted on 2005-01-01 00:00:00 | by poketmouse | [ Reply to This ]
  I am extremely sorry that you had to endure something like this, but I see in the end you walked out strong.

Except for a few typos I saw nothing wrong with this poem. You wrote about an extremely traumatizing and harsh experience. It was pure emotion from your heart and past. Don't change anything unless YOU want to.

~BCute
| Posted on 2005-01-02 00:00:00 | by BCute | [ Reply to This ]
  Okay, just want to say that I have a history of abuse in my childhood. I know this took a lot. You know.

The point I think, here is: to get some of the evil out, it just rots inside if you cant. Gotta get it out as much as possible.

This is good work, and good for the soul, keep it up.

Thank you, sincerely, -sinmore
| Posted on 2005-01-04 00:00:00 | by sinmore | [ Reply to This ]


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