magdalens_poison's profile
AGE:
33
LOC: United Kingdom
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: July 28
LOC: United Kingdom
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: July 28
I’m Kerry. I’m 30 years old. I’m a married Mum, I have a little girl of 3 years. I am studyig English at university.
I began writing poetry again about a month ago and have managed to produce about 20 pieces which I am rather proud of. I hope to be able to produce enough to have a book published. The only question is….am I a good enough writer to be published?? Any opinions or advise on this matter would be appreiciated!!
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Iridescent dreams Of you and I gently cling to my consciousness Evanescent scenes of laughter, beauty and health Our tomorrow in the sun Brothers watch us leave As we unknowingly please Unwittingly tease. Safely cocooned in the lap of our family. Together we walk. Slender, graceful hips sway in synchronised motion; skin glowing with health. Our laughter peels through the sweltering heat; tangles in the breeze. Oblivious to the attention we command, as heads turn our way. Showered in second gl...
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Silver pools of impatient frustration, Shimmering reflections of the girl locked inside. Eyes like nothing you could ever imagine. The visual essence of a soul forced to hide. To never be told To never hear So hard to know Did she really care? But sometimes if you were lucky, she'd give you that look. A look so compelling, commanding, enchanted, all you could do was stand and look back. In those moments there was no room for doubt. Her influence shall remain embedded inside me. How could I al...
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Taking Pains In this the dawn of my twilight, I watch my Venus as a child, as she lays by my side. And I am Demeter reversed. Not the constant craving mother, thirsting, yearning for her lost child. I am the vanished, swept away. And I am barren, I am dry I am withering without her.
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I remember my first time Reluctantly, It’s not a memory I hold dear I see it, I detach myself As if it wasn’t really me Just some cheap sleazy girl in some cheap sleazy film For I don’t wish to recall, The sheer fright of that moment; The horror that ran through me as he reached for his belt. He had me pinned His knees hurt my ribs He thought I was gasping In delighted anticipation But this man was so big! So grown up, and I, felt every bit the child The child I truly was. The muscles in his ...
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I hoped you were dead to me at last. Mere flickers of your haunting I could take. I thought that you were buried in the past. Today your ghost sprung back to life, so fast. Visited me, angrily, thirsting for vengeance. I hoped you were dead to me at last You were my shame; your foul influence so vast Like the unrelenting villain in the movie of my heart I thought that you were buried in the past Was I foolishly deluded, to think I could escape your grasp? How skilfully you vivify, craving for...
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Your choice of words is great. Theres some lovely imagery bordering on genious in this poem. The second stanza seems a little surreal-good thing. The best way I can describe the images it evoked in my mind, is to compare them to a Tool video-you familiar with the band Tool? Well they are very surreal, but brilliant.
I don't know what to say really. I'm sppechless. I attended the funeral of a young girl last week so this hit a very tender chord with me. A beuatifully written poem. It seems a little distant, but in a way that makes it more poignant. Does that make sense? It is kind of dreamy, which makes it even more stirring. I love it anyway, I think it's brilliant. Thank you for writing this xxx
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I'm not sure about the second stanza, there's something about it that isn't right. Maybe it is the 2 lines that only have a few syllables. Or maybe it is the last line, so few syllables followed by a line with 13. It doesn't read very well for me. But I really like what follows. Mind echoes of words that should have been spoken sooner-really like that line. Not a bad piece, but could be better x
while the Bic pen furiously darted across line after line after line after page after page after page This stanza spoiled this for me. I have read so many pieces about writing. At first I thought that this was different as it wasn't obvious that it was about writing, then I read this stanza and felt quite disappointed. Take that away, and you have a really good original piece of writing, about writing.
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I love this stanza you are free you are wind floating milkweed seed I am the splitting seeping pod beckoning the Monarch Ethereal is my favorite word, and I love the use of it here. This is not your average love poem, it is unique and really well written. Love it xxx
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