freshsounds's profile
AGE:
20
LOC: Fredericksburg, VA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: July 10
LOC: Fredericksburg, VA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: July 10
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Version 1
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Guantanamo! Such a name in my American dogmind should be condemned to fire and grime! O! that the haloed wardens of democracy and freedom should bind with the chain and lash with the tongue innocent human lives! There, locked behind a fence of coiled wire, ...
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A woman sat unbuckled, and through her window flew the sun from the edge of the steel wing. Wind exhales into these emptied streets, disturbing heaps of fallen leaves. She cupped her hands about her abdomen, as if she held the living Earth turning underneath her. Heavy clouds consume the sky, then shower their burdens against the ground. Her fingers, naked, met and laced while her head turned to the vacant space beside her, eyelids wet. Runnels of water trickle like veins down the face of a w...
Version 3
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A woman sat unbuckled, and through her window flew the sun from the edge of the steel wing. Wind exhales into these emptied streets, disturbing heaps of fallen leaves. She cupped her hands about her abdomen, as if she held the living Earth turning below her. Heavy clouds consume the sky, then shower their burdens against the ground. Her fingers, naked, met and laced while her head turned to the vacant space beside her, eyelids wet. Runnels of water trickle like veins down the face of a wide, ...
Version 2
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A woman sat unbuckled, and through her window flew the sun from the edge of the steel wing. Wind exhales into these emptied streets, disturbing heaps of fallen leaves. She cupped her hands about her abdomen, as if she held the living Earth beneath her. Heavy clouds consume the sky, then shower their burdens against the ground. Her fingers, naked, met and laced while her head turned to the vacant space beside her, eyelids wet. Runnels of water trickle like veins down the face of a wide, slopin...
Version 1
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A woman sat unbuckled, and through her window flew the sun from the edge of a silver wing. Wind exhales into these emptied streets, disturbing heaps of fallen leaves. She cupped her hands about her abdomen, as if she held the living Earth beneath her. Heavy clouds consume the sky, then shower their burdens against the ground. Her fingers, naked, met and laced while her head turned to the vacant space beside her, eyelids wet. Runnels of water trickle like veins down the face of a wide, sloping...
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Reviews
I throughly enjoyed this, to me what read like a hybrid of poetry and prose. You've handled the words well enough that I can feel your attitude. I could hear the sergeant shout and the trainees echo (an excellently written segment.) And the ending -- you just filled it with things your readers probably have no idea about, and you communicate it very efficiently. Nice work =)
First off, Africa's not a country =P Aside from that, try to even out the rhythm; rhythm is more important than line length equality. I'd also say transform this into a free verse piece. Rhymes are great and fun, but can too easily sound predictable and forced. I'm take it the message you sent out was that America is made up of these other countries, in which case removing rhyme and focusing on image and rhythm could evoke a stronger or more dramatic feeling.
Great! Imagery is visible, theme is relatable, and the format is fine. The last line seemed like it could be stronger, because I wasn't sure what it was that was stunted (though I think I have an idea.) It might be able to be left unaltered though. Also the first and second halves don't seem to bridge well, other than in they are both youthful experiences.
Interesting. I find that stanza one really captures your husband (or lover?) as being this chocolate that attracts trouble, your feelings toward him both bitter and sweet. And the end of the stanza made me chuckle. Then in the next stanza I got a little confused of your message. Perhaps it's that you've escaped from that attraction of trouble yet you miss him still. The stanza itself is whole and fruitful though. Suggestions: Change "sticky syrup hot" to "hot syrup," eliminating the redundanc...
Nicely done :) What I like: Each line can stand alone yet the poem is whole altogether. Lines 3 and 4 are nicely conceptualized, dividing life and death with the bowls, like a coffin. And your second stanza is clear in imagery and meaning; the message is crystal clear by the end, and that's always a good thing. Consider Revising: Lines 1 and 2 don't seem to flow as well as the rest of the poem. And though the reader can imply who "He" is, you may want to directly define him, so the usage of "...
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