Young Writers Society

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I had a dream last night where true love and
true homes were nonexistent.

I was violently torn from my own skin
and you didn't bother showing up
at my funeral. The wind abandoned
my lungs, you glided along
with the procession and didn't shed a single
tear. I was gasping hopelessly for air
and opening my eyes to see you trembling
over my coffin, puddles at your feet waiting
to ignite and sink beneath the flames.

I'm not sure I can decide which dream
kills me faster between burning wrists and bruising
skies-- there's rain, somewhere, and here
in the middle of a field I stand shaking bitterly
against the cold and soaked in tears of neat
vodka. lightning turns to face me, her questions
pouring rapidly from her eyes in blinding
cataclysmic rivulets;

there's rain, somewhere, tapping against
a windowpane-- look out, look out,
a thunderous crack and a world set alight,
the echo of voices all screaming as they
fall slowly from the sky.


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I've been having wierd dreams lately.

Hey, nice job. I thought it was good. It was sort of dream like, foggy yet vivid, and I liked that affect. I actually felt like I could have dreamt it myself. I think that the way it was laid out was perfect.

"I was violently torn from my own skin
and you didn't bother showing up
at my funeral. The wind abandoned
my lungs, you walked silently along
with the procession and didn't shed a single
tear."

I like that stanza the best. Actually, I should say that part of the stanza. I think it starts of the poem well.

Overall, awesome job! Keep it up!

Also, if any of what I said sounded odd, it was because I was listening to LMFAO full blast while typing, so I probably wasn't thinking strait.

Ear!

I had a dream last night where true love and
true homes were nonexistent.

Fairly strong first lines, but not amazing first lines. While this is a nice lead into what the rest of the poem strives to express, I don't think it really captures, in the poetic sense, what your dream was really like. It's too informative. Instead of being a liaison between this dream of yours and I, immerse me in it.

Also, the "and" that ends line one makes for a weak transition into line two.

I was violently torn from my own skin
and you didn't bother showing up
at my funeral. The wind abandoned
my lungs, you walked silently along
with the procession and didn't shed a single
tear.

Excellent little piece of reflective melancholy. From this, the reader is drawn into your web of mourning, curious as to what could provoke such lines. It's sad, but only grim, at most; it captures the emotion without resorting to petty melodrama.

I have a couple things I want to point out at this point, though. First, you're using an unhealthy amount of adverbs. Adverbs are great in sparse numbers, but in poetry, they are best avoided. Adverbs are to be used when the preceding verb doesn't fully encompass what the writer intends it to; poetry is all about being minimal with word choice, which also means being experimental with your verbs. In prose, you are able to use them more flexibly, but not here.

Second, both of these sentences are structured very similarly. It'd be nice to see them reworded. Of course, these criticisms are hardly anything to be worried about; they are nitpicks, at most, and easily remedied.

I was gasping hopelessly for air
and opening my eyes to see you trembling
over my coffin, puddles at your feet waiting
to ignite and sink beneath the flames.

My favorite part of the poem. You're continuing to greenhouse (greenhouse? yup, sounds right) that atmosphere you began to develop in the selection prior, and I'm really liking the way the narrator/second person's grief, first suppressed, now inflamed, is unfolding. The imagery is a great touch.

I'm not sure I can decide which dream
kills me faster between burning wrists and bruising
skies-- there's rain, somewhere, and here
in the middle of a field I stand shaking bitterly
against the cold and soaked in tears of neat
vodka. lightning turns to face me, her questions
pouring rapidly from her eyes in blinding
cataclysmic pools;

Nitpicks first: "lightning," being at the beginning of a sentence, should be capitalized.

The first part of this stanza is magnificent - really masterful. I couldn't possibly critique it. Lines three and four especially stick out. However, as soon as you reach "neat vodka," you lose me. What is its metaphorical significance? How does "neat" apply to "vodka?" I can't, I suppose, claim to be familiar with the singular jargon pertaining to alcohol; if it isn't justified in that sense, what was your purpose with it? Indeed, with the whole vodka thing? I'm curious.

I'm hesitant to critique the latter part, because it's a splendid delineation of a lightning strike, but I will anyway. It just didn't fit. It's too much of a divergence from the mood that the poem had up until that point been framing.

there's rain, somewhere tapping against
a windowpane-- look out, look out,
a thunderous crack and a world set alight,
the echo of voices all screaming as they
fall slowly from the sky.

In the first line, I have a feeling that "somewhere" was supposed to be followed by a comma, as it was in the previous stanza.

That aside, I don't have much to complain about in this final stanza. I'm iffy about the repetition of "look out," but only that; I can't decide whether I like it or not. The penultimate line, though, I do feel it necessary to edit. I get caught on the "screaming" bit every time I read this, I guess because "screaming" is such an overused word in situations like these. I'd replace it with something more original - metaphorical, maybe. Surprise me.

Well! This was a great poem, overall - emotional, but not overly so. Its only wrinkles were small ones, like word choice, phrasing and such - easily fixed. You really should be more active, though! I've been missing your poetry.

Hope this helped.

-Kafka

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Haha, loser.