Young Writers Society

Only white permeates these borders,
these lines around your body;
a wedged black marker divided your contours
from the rest of the blank-static world.

As the knife of a suicide, you licked that pen,
and scratched until it bled.
The lines are important, you say, they hold your colours still,
confine the palette inside,
separate
and neat, your private untouched Eden,
the iridescent array.

But light refracted festers,
and chaos murmurs,
and the black contours crack.
Your core cries out—
Your colours are tearing at the ink-line.

Hey! I thought this was a great first work, you're off to a good start. I'm a fan of your vocabulary-- it enhances your poem.

First I thought I'd say that while I liked reading this, and I love the parallel between cut lines and ink lines (correct? Am I wrong..?), that it was also a bit off on line breaks and punctuation. I'll go in order of stanza;

Only white permeates these borders,
these lines around your body;
a wedged black marker divided your contours
from the rest of the blank-static world.

I thought the breaks on this stanza were decent, however it lacked punctuation and made it sound sort of like a run-on.

As the knife of a suicide, you licked that pen,
and scratched until it bled.
The lines are important, you say, they hold your colours still,
confine the palette inside,
separate
and neat, your private untouched Eden, the iridescent array.

I'm not entirely sure how to correct the line breaks here by trying to explain it, so I'll show you my version you could try, or just observe;

As the knife of a suicide,
you licked
that pen, and scratched
until it bled.
The lines are important,
you say they hold your colors
still, confine the palette
inside, separate
and neat.

I did it this way because with poetry, one of my main goals is to give the reader new impressions as they read (I also changed some punctuation). For example, if you have a line saying "as the knife of a suicide," and end it, you can give the reader a new impression or thought line if, right under that, you say "you licked". Do you understand? Let me know if I can make it clearer and I'll do my best. Experiment with different line breaks and see how they work out for you. If mine seems a little weird too, I'm sorry, I was just trying to make a point xD

But light refracted festers, and chaotic flashes murmur, I would break up this line--it's long
and the black contours crack.
Your core cries out—
Your colours are tearing at the ink-line.

I love the last line. LOVE IT. <3

So hopefully I helped slightly. Keep writing poetry, it's an art that's not so easy to conquer but it's fun to do and expressive (and my favorite). If you ever want another review from me, if I wasn't too harsh that is, just ask. But good job

~Peanut

I seriously loved this poem! Was it about someone cutting themselves? That's what it reminded me of at least. I love how you used lines, colours, etc. to describe it all. You didn't overuse words, which is also great. I can't really think about anything you could fix, I don't know enough about poetry, grammar, punctuation, etc. Great job!

Hey OyVey,

For me, this poem has so much metaphorical sense behind it. I really love how you've used the concept of there being colours and the 'lines' that hold the persona's emotions together.

The language is brilliant and just oozes of that professional poetic sense. To me, this poem is perfect and I don't think it needs any refinement.

OyVey wrote:But light refracted festers,
and chaos murmurs,
and the black contours crack.
Your core cries out—
Your colours are tearing at the ink-line.

- This was a brilliant way to end the poem. And great use of words as well. I look forward to reading more of your pieces. You've got amazing talent. Keep the ink flowing!

Murtuza

Only white permeates these borders,
these lines around your body;
a wedged black marker divides your contours
from the rest of the blank-static world.

Like the knife of a suicide, you licked that pen,
and scratched until it bled.
The lines are
important, you say
they hold your colours still,
confine the palette inside,
separate
and neat, your private untouched Eden,
the iridescent array.

But the light refracts festers,
and the chaos murmurs,
and the black contours crack.
Your core cries out—
And your colours are tearing at the ink-line.

Beautiful poem, simply beautiful. I have no criticisms other than the general editing here and there, which I showed above. They are just suggestions, nothing major. I really appreciate the underlying meaning of the words and the fantastic imagery you used. Bravo! Keep writing!