Description: I was reading Baudelaire the other day, and I decided I wanted to mimic some of his style. This is, like most of my other poetry, about a girl. Also, about my insecurities regarding reality.
My Lovely -------------------------------------------
A lightpost dies behind my pulsing steps;
The shadows cast around me weave and curl
As falling ashes. Silent trumpets hurl
Their echoes to the mire where dreams are kept,
Like sparks above the embers in my mind.
An image hovers, caught between my eyes
And life. The space of hopes and faith (and lies)
That lend a shallow brightness to the blind!
Of course, I must in my position test
My sanity with that we know is best:
And thus we damn ourselves with bright delusion.
And yet, although I know this is the case,
A picture floats before me, of her face,
And is, I fear, my favorite illusion.
"And yet, although I know this is the case, A picture floats before me, of her face, And is, I fear, my favorite illusion"
I like that part the best. The whole thing is great too though, but that just kind of stuck out for me. I don't know. I love the way you word things. Amazing. I have nothing negative to say about this. Great job
I really enjoyed the first two stanzas. The last stanza, however, is somewhat unnatural and hard to read. It doesn't flow as well as the two preceding. Good images and contrasts between shadows and sparks etc.
One, baudelaire is too much sophisticated with deep messages and double meaning, he is known for his strict notorious style for both men and women. I can sense you read Flowers of Evil but if one wants to say "mimic" Baudelaire is a bad choice cause he is a frech god-poet. anyway I do like the quatrains and the wording in particular, some people fail at that, good job and keep it up your Y.w.