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Poetry / Those Eyes (Analysis)
That wasn’t me
crying at midnight to the melodramatic
hum of Beethoven,
wishing to paint
the eyes of a vanishing smile.
Lips parted, hair messed,
panic riding up on cheeks
grown pale, as I search
for pink to make them
come alive.
They whisper forest words
in vain ears,
those eyes,
to the sounds of midnight
engulfed in streetlight
in D minor.
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you have done nothing wrong except create a poem. do some cutting, minor. does it need to be two stanzas? keep at it.
resp.,
michael
m.r.merris
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This reads beautifully, and I enjoyed it very much. As I read through your first stanza, I was wondering what caused the distress that was expressed. Your second stanza gave many visuals and ended under a streetlight, so that surprised me a bit, which is fine. Very engaging poem, and it’s nice that you divided your poem into stanzas, since that helps to establish pace and focus for the reader:)
I really like the way this flows, and there are some nice images here.
I’m not entirely sure what I take from the second stanza, and prefer the first – but having said that, I do grasp, albeint vaguely, the wa the closing line links back to the Baathoven.
Overall, strong words.
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