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My Poetry Samplings–Am In Need Of Honest Opinion!

Home / Forums / List of Forums / Poetry / My Poetry Samplings–Am In Need Of Honest Opinion!

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    ryliespring
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    Throughout my green horned years in writing poems for fun/for my own amusement (and to entertain my friends) I’ve never had a single, decent critique or valid opinion. It’s mostly just been those dreaded, “Yea, it’s good. Good.” “That’s cool. It rhymes, that’s cool.” and I find myself growing–more and more–hungry for some honest, constructive criticism. I would eventually like to have a small volume of my works published. Here are three that I’ve recently written:

    “The Glass Orb”
    by R. J. Spring

    I feel as though my mind is reaping
    Everything my mouth as sown.
    I am left here, anxiously keeping
    My garden from being grown.
    I held the glass orb between my hands
    And it is sinking me deep in my lake.
    I don’t know if the green velvet quite understands—
    And when I die, I’ll let it break.
    Yes, I think I will.

    I cut my feet at the bottom of the pool
    As I step on my broken mind.
    And, oh, how common of a fool
    To never look behind.
    But it all did glow brighter still—
    I feel as though my mind is tinkling
    Like a chime above my window sill!
    Lakeside winds have got me thinking
    And when I die, I’ll let it break.
    Yes, I think I will.

    In the crystal shards I see the Goods,
    The plentiful wheat I’ve sown.
    So, I plant each piece in the woods
    To gather all I’ve ever known.

    So, I see within my wreckage, I’m reborn,
    And I hold that orb once more.
    Now I’ve stitched what was once torn
    With the velvet scraps, I shall restore.
    And when I die I’ll take it with me,
    Yes, I think I will.
    END.

    (This one I wrote about my experiences growing up and reading Oscar Wilde.)
    Wild Children
    by R. J. Spring

    The aesthete in my over grown garden
    Left me vomiting pearls on the floor.
    I’m locked in the lily fields, and he’s my warden–
    In the hills, and the streets and the moors.

    Youth is the theme when we are the play
    And our stockinged feet skate the lakes.
    The cobbles of our city, or the Irish way,
    Is what our young day makes.

    Through the night, as well, we roam
    Through the night, we aren’t like the others–
    He is the maiden, and I, the crone,
    But neither of us can be mothers.

    We both are present when we look to the boys
    But soon I’m left alone again–
    That older boy my heart employs
    Kissed, instead, the Greeks in the rain.

    Where once us wild children
    In my Wilde childhood grew
    Is now a longing, little wren
    Remembering just us two.
    END.

    Desert Coated Savior
    by R. J. Spring

    Wrap me up in your big coat.
    Take me to the scene
    Where I’m s’posed to flutter, float,
    Fly on up stream.

    The smell of life is on your chest
    The musk of living long.
    To rest there I’m surely blessed,
    Your organs dance in thrusts and throngs.

    And say, now, man,
    Are you for real?
    Am I really that pretty?
    My rawness starts to peel–

    You’re just like a desert,
    Man with those green lake eyes.
    Choke away all my hate and hurt,
    And my ol’ wish to die.

    So take me now in that brown coat,
    So I can just feel warmer.
    Take my breath as a small note:
    I’m no longer life’s performer.

    Grab me please, pull me out!
    My eyes are cracked and shut.
    Life has rung out far too loud.
    Hair’s too long now to cut.

    My skin is gray and it’s loathing
    Every breath it takes.
    May the sun come strip my clothing
    And see what warmth it makes.

    Just for me, pretty-please,
    God, may you exist!
    Come cut this breeding sickness–
    Just to slit up this cyst.

    Allow me ever so slowly
    To put my arms in your long sleeves.
    Dance me away, make me Holy–
    I pray you never leave.

    Take me up in that old leather
    Coat so fine and broken
    Take my body like a rising feather
    In a wind that’s softly spoken.

    Pray you never leave.
    Say you’ll never leave.
    I am yours to keep.
    In this desert, I want to sleep.
    END.

    Feedback is most desperately welcomed, haha! 🙂

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