a great view from inside the mind of someone on their death bed. i say those things now and i'm only 24. i wish i could have done so many things differently but now i'm screwed. i can't go back and change anything. nice job with this one.
Intersting take on the life cycle, yo. I havent even conceived of such a topic being so young and seemingly immortal.
Topic: Intersting Content: Fair (more imagery and metaphor could have made the piece more vivid) Complete?: No, you should elaborate on this topic Personal elements: Could have seen more, it seemed to me as some sort of detached commetary.
Grammer and spelling?: I dont give a chit.
Time has weathered his bony hands And his decrepit body worn and scarred The joy and fire of his childhood Are now just memories, black and charred
all in all: alright... more imagery , metaphor would have doen the trick for me anyway.
I tend to disagree with your point on how memories become charred and damaged with time. They fade, yes, but memories are golden, and only gain luster with age. I know very few old men that don't say "when I was your age" with that wistful twinkle in their eye and that knowing smile on their face; why cry over spilled milk?
Order of the day... unbiased review? Coming right up.
The intent of this poem doesn't appear to be pure rhyme and rhythm, for it's slightly ragged and rough around the edges, along with the rhyme being a bit unoriginal and lacking in power. Perfect rhymes being pleasant and all, too perfect rhymes have a way of giving the following line away. In addition, your words are somewhere between concise and grandiose, a balance I can't quite pin the meaning behind. It looks as if it's your natural writing style, and if that's so I've no real qualms against it. Your third stanza of death comes away as slightly cliché and more than a bit dragged on and dreary, though you're attempting to maintain the four-line stanzas. The problem with rhymed verse is that, although the number of lines is set, each stanza has to pack a solid punch of risk sounding extraneous. You might want to spend a bit of time trying to approach the same scenario from different angles to freshen up the narration, because your writing is quite a pleasant read if the content is there. The diction, also, while distinct, feels rocky and uneven, running the risks of incoherent description and unconventional imagery. The known clichés were avoided simply to avoid them, and that in itself is admirable, but the results aren't as strong as one might expect. The words sound clunky, unpolished, a rough draft of sorts because of the personalized poignance that doesn't reach the reader. You might consider showing the poem to someone you trust and asking them how they would write it, to get a better feel of what differences you've made, and whether your effect came through. It just seems like an unfinished work, so I'd suggest perfecting it beside trustworthy ears and attempting true greatness like all poets do.
"And his decrepit body worn and scarred The joy and fire of his childhood Are now just memories, black and charred"
That was an awesome end. Unique in so many ways. At first, I thought the first stanza didn't fit because of the third line. It didn't go along with your rhyme sceme. But then I read the rest of the peice and everything fit so well. Flowed freely. THis caught my attention the whole way through. Veery interesting. Sad thing to happen to this guy.
This is a good poem up until the last stanza. I have worked with many elderly people and am rapidly becomig one. Memories do not become black and charred. They burn as brightly now as they ever did. What the elderly lose is the memory of recent events. Their past is as clear as your yesterday.