Description: Ah so, I'm back on elite after nearly a year of being absent. I've been writing again my dears, and I have to say I'm intrigued to see where events in my life are taking me as far as affecting my writing goes.
This piece in particular is about someone. (of course) I wrote this one recently after hearing a certain song that was loaded with memories of someone from my past. So I wrote out every thought that came into my head in the process.
Here's To You -------------------------------------------
Smoking cigarettes
til I hit the filter
I think of you
There is nothing left
for me to ponder upon
anymore
Except for shallow memories
sihlouettes of a years worth of lies
Shaded in all the right places
with something
I once though of
as beautiful
You are nothing.
Nothing
but
a shade of gray
on my red memory
i am not exaggerating when i say this but the whole poem to me seemed like a mirror...and i saw myself doing and pondering exactly as the individual in the poetry...the message of the poem was crystal clear and it was clearly felt!
i want to read it again and again and again. AND AGAIN! lol...nice job on this one JULIET!
its interesting the way we contain our life time of memories in songs... you play a song i guarantee ill have a memory for it... maybe more than one too... life is measured by memories measured by songs...
heres to you
your title makes me think of the song "mrs robbinson" but also of a toast... a toast to what was... the good times... the not good times... i dont know what they were but they were times and they were shared and so are toasts...
cigarettes and poetry... i love how they go together... i dont smoke and i dont write poetry ( i just gather words) so cigarettes never appear in my words but i love it when they appear in others... specially when they seem so insignificant and yet hugely significant at the same time... smoking til the filter... i dunno... seems kinda absent minded... thinking while smoking and thoughts and ash running away on you... atleast there was the filter else youd have yourself yellow fingers for life if this is a frequent action in your world...
you know... part of me would want to split this up some... line breaks or something...
you have some brilliant lines and i think they could be played with more...lemme see...
Smoking cigarettes til I hit the filter
I think of you
There is nothing left [for me to ponder upon] anymore
Except for shallow memories sihlouettes of a years worth of lies Shaded in all the right places with something I once though of as beautiful
You are nothing.
Nothing but a shade of gray on my red memory
i dunno... it kinda works... theres a few words that i would get rid of too... i put them in italics... just a thought... you aint gotta do anything with any of what i said though...
i really like this piece it seems the way we can convince ourselves of beauty is crazy but we do it all the same...
depressed... right? that feeling is really bothering... you can really shout a mock when you remember such...
as for criticism... well, i only think that the format is really unique... but something's not so comfortable with... i guess, the words and some grammar tweak.... just like those others said...
now...all i can say is... don't believe me and enjoy!!!
Welcome back! A burning memory no doubt, of what was left in ashes, filtered by the passing of time, and discarded shortly after it lit itself up. O.K. no more cigarette puns. To your poem, some suggestions:
Drop the following: L5 "upon". L6 "anymore"
Redundant really.
L11 "of" L12 "as"
just not needed.
L14 "Nothing" That's the whole line and it repeats too close, I think, to the preceding "nothing".
Everything from "There" to "beautiful" should be one sentence (no need for capitals).
Like I said, a burning love poem is a good way to get started again. Let's hope you don't use up the pack, before finding the one that satisfies.
first, let me say welcome back, and horray for your writing inspirations!!
secondly, i absolutely love this line:
sihlouettes of a years worth of lies Shaded in all the right places
this just really sticks out to me. Shaded in all the right places, like it's the lies are a great piece of artwork..
the only thing i would suggest, is maybe just a little punctuation. i love the format, but some of the lines are broken in a way that it made me stumble to read in certain places..
This is a wicked write. I can easily relate, for I recently felt the same. It kinda sucks when you remember a bulls*** memory of someone who f***ed you over don't it?
What is it about cigarettes that keep inspiring poetry? Something Freudian? Whatever it is, it seems to work.
I wonder if the line "there is nothing left" might work better shortened to just a breathy "nothing left", to make it more resigned-sounding. Although that's likely just me.
Couple of typos -- silhouettes, and also you need "I once thought of". I really, really like the last lines, with the colours of the cigarette reflecting the mood.
Interesting piece. I think it was quite creative, the image of a cigarette tied the whole piece up. And that was very well done. I just think you could work on the punctuation and capitalization (I don’t usually notice that kind of stuff but here it was a bit confusing, I think some changes in this department would make your poem read much better). Maybe lose “anymore” (L6).
Submission Name: Here's To You
