Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Show rules for this event
Ethereal Dreams
Yesterday,
I died.
Soul free from body, I watched
Mourning smiles and jaunty dirges,
A celebration of life.
Then, it was time to go.
I asked them where I could find my parents.
At the end of the light
Through a multitude of falling stars
Crystals thrown as darts into velvet evening.
They said,
They’d greet me, but
Wouldn’t want me
And that I’d see why
So I went.
On the way, I stopped
At the post office
I’m coming, I told the postman
To nothing.
The dead cannot mix with the living.
But they tried (because the movies said so),
And it was okay:
They had an eternity to succeed.
The fortunate ones sought answers
Huddled in churches,
Father, what is eternal life?
I stopped in a window,
Overlapping the glass kaleidoscope,
Waiting for an answer.
A gift, incorruptible,
A final resting place for everyone, to be
Happy.
Maybe one day, I would know it.
On the way, I stopped
I asked them where I could find the famous.
There they were, on the benches
Stalin playing blindfold chess with
Hamlet’s father. A Ukranian Jew the arbiter.
I asked the father if it was true.
No, maybe.
Hamlet was in Thailand:
Promised to visit, but not yet.
And it was okay:
He had an eternity to fulfill it.
As the air grew fluffy,
I waltzed towards the cosmos
Every step lighter
Basking in the black and the scattered sky.
And with every step, I understood
But pressed on,
One Last Mission
At last,
There.
Breathless, wordless
They greeted me and missed me
And missed my greeting.
I told them the truth
And their truth
By saying goodbye.
Unchained from the earth,
To be chained again,
I finally felt
free
I died.
Soul free from body, I watched
Mourning smiles and jaunty dirges,
A celebration of life.
Then, it was time to go.
I asked them where I could find my parents.
At the end of the light
Through a multitude of falling stars
Crystals thrown as darts into velvet evening.
They said,
They’d greet me, but
Wouldn’t want me
And that I’d see why
So I went.
On the way, I stopped
At the post office
I’m coming, I told the postman
To nothing.
The dead cannot mix with the living.
But they tried (because the movies said so),
And it was okay:
They had an eternity to succeed.
The fortunate ones sought answers
Huddled in churches,
Father, what is eternal life?
I stopped in a window,
Overlapping the glass kaleidoscope,
Waiting for an answer.
A gift, incorruptible,
A final resting place for everyone, to be
Happy.
Maybe one day, I would know it.
On the way, I stopped
I asked them where I could find the famous.
There they were, on the benches
Stalin playing blindfold chess with
Hamlet’s father. A Ukranian Jew the arbiter.
I asked the father if it was true.
No, maybe.
Hamlet was in Thailand:
Promised to visit, but not yet.
And it was okay:
He had an eternity to fulfill it.
As the air grew fluffy,
I waltzed towards the cosmos
Every step lighter
Basking in the black and the scattered sky.
And with every step, I understood
But pressed on,
One Last Mission
At last,
There.
Breathless, wordless
They greeted me and missed me
And missed my greeting.
I told them the truth
And their truth
By saying goodbye.
Unchained from the earth,
To be chained again,
I finally felt
free
I'm curious as to the rationale behind this entry's composition, because some of it honestly reads like nonsense, but at the same time I feel like there's something deeper going on here.
Time to get conspiratorial up in this bih.
Time to get conspiratorial up in this bih.
Feels like an odd place to insert a line break.
Punctuation varies between good, bad, and missing. That it's not consistently one of those things bugs me.
The focus of the piece feels like a broken place between specific and abstract. It doesn't quite work for me.
This was near the top for me on first read because I enjoyed the mood. After a more-critical read, I'm not sure anymore.
Soul free from body, I watched
Punctuation varies between good, bad, and missing. That it's not consistently one of those things bugs me.
The focus of the piece feels like a broken place between specific and abstract. It doesn't quite work for me.
This was near the top for me on first read because I enjoyed the mood. After a more-critical read, I'm not sure anymore.
I'm out of my element on this one, because I'm not as good at digging into deeper meanings, and there's not a form you're following, so I can't look at how well you do. All I can say is what impression I got from it. I'm someone who likes atmospheric pieces and will be more forgiving about other issues it might have if it gets that right. This one had a very nice atmosphere, but I wasn't clear on the message. There's not a big epiphany about this narrator's attitude toward death, even though one had pretty much been promised: "that I’d see why." So when the reveal of that isn't much more than an "oh, okay" moment for him, it's not going to have any more of an effect on me. I also can't figure out what I'm supposed to get from the specific people mentioned: Stalin, a Ukrainian Jew, and King Hamlet (though since he's a fictional character, I don't know whether to take this whole thing as a "real" account, one that's even fictional to the narrator, something he realizes is only his imagination, etc., which is a whole other issue). Or what I should get from the specific mention of Thailand, for that matter.
From what little form free verse has, I will say that the individual lines and stanzas seemed to be organized well, in my opinion. So a nice mood piece, but I feel like I'm missing something, and I feel like the narrator being underwhelmed by things was anticlimactic. Though I don't quite understand the ending.
From what little form free verse has, I will say that the individual lines and stanzas seemed to be organized well, in my opinion. So a nice mood piece, but I feel like I'm missing something, and I feel like the narrator being underwhelmed by things was anticlimactic. Though I don't quite understand the ending.
This one has a great mood. It's really cool how you treat the subject matter of death in a way that's really peaceful, to the point of almost being playful/casual. I'm definitely leaving this one in a good mood.
Now, I always feel a little unqualified to talk about blank/free verse, since it's so subjective. So I'm just going to give you what's purely my own opinion on what makes blank verse work.
I'm of the opinion that pretty much any kind of poetry needs structure and organization to become distinct from pretty-sounding prose. In the case of blank verse, while you certainly have the freedom to not follow rhyme scheme or rhythm, I still think it's really important to have some structural scaffolding in place. For me, the blank verse poems that I enjoy most will often (heavily) use repetitions, paralleled sentence structures, and juxtaposition to establish and pay off on the reader's expectations.
In this case here, I'm having trouble feeling like I get very much guidance on how I should be moving from one line to the next and from one stanza to the next. The overall effect is that to me, this piece comes across a bit like a really pretty piece of prose that's got odd line breaks.
So while there's definitely some well thought-out mood-crafting at work here, I think you can really make this piece shine if you leaned a little bit more on some of the strengths of blank verse.
Now, I always feel a little unqualified to talk about blank/free verse, since it's so subjective. So I'm just going to give you what's purely my own opinion on what makes blank verse work.
I'm of the opinion that pretty much any kind of poetry needs structure and organization to become distinct from pretty-sounding prose. In the case of blank verse, while you certainly have the freedom to not follow rhyme scheme or rhythm, I still think it's really important to have some structural scaffolding in place. For me, the blank verse poems that I enjoy most will often (heavily) use repetitions, paralleled sentence structures, and juxtaposition to establish and pay off on the reader's expectations.
In this case here, I'm having trouble feeling like I get very much guidance on how I should be moving from one line to the next and from one stanza to the next. The overall effect is that to me, this piece comes across a bit like a really pretty piece of prose that's got odd line breaks.
So while there's definitely some well thought-out mood-crafting at work here, I think you can really make this piece shine if you leaned a little bit more on some of the strengths of blank verse.
Genre: Mood™
The biggest detriment to this piece is that no one can understand it. Being able to understand a piece on your own is one of the biggest things an author needs to do and this fell short of it. It’s all a bit too vague and we’d like a bit more hints to piece the poem together.
Having said this, I really enjoyed the world building and the voice of the narrator. It’s a moody piece which made me feel like I was there with him, especially the part where he’s at church and is phasing through the windows. It’s my favorite part.
Lastly, I noticed that you didn’t put a period at the end of ‘free’. Great choice and beautiful detail.
Best line(s): “ I stopped in a window/Overlapping the glass kaleidoscope”
The biggest detriment to this piece is that no one can understand it. Being able to understand a piece on your own is one of the biggest things an author needs to do and this fell short of it. It’s all a bit too vague and we’d like a bit more hints to piece the poem together.
Having said this, I really enjoyed the world building and the voice of the narrator. It’s a moody piece which made me feel like I was there with him, especially the part where he’s at church and is phasing through the windows. It’s my favorite part.
Lastly, I noticed that you didn’t put a period at the end of ‘free’. Great choice and beautiful detail.
Best line(s): “ I stopped in a window/Overlapping the glass kaleidoscope”
>>Nemesis
>>No_Raisin
>>LoftyWithers
>>Pascoite
>>Bachiavellian
>>Anon Y Mous
Thanks for the reviews, all. Grats to the medalists.
Just gonna explain this real quick. I guess you could've called this an exercise in perspective--it was written how I thought a friend of mine would've written it. Premise was fairly simple: when people die, they become ghosts forever. Then they have forever to do mostly nothing, since they're unable to interact with the real world in any way. So things that mattered in life don't matter so much anymore as a ghost--family becomes significantly less important, not much to work towards, not much point in religion, etc. Stalin and the Ukranian Jew should be mostly self-explanatory: it refers to antisemitism within the USSR and the Holodomor, a massive famine in Ukraine under Stalin's rule that's arguably classifiable as genocide. Under the premise of the poem, Hamlet would've never happened, so instead of the father-son mess that we got, nothing happened, nor would it have mattered in the end anyways. So overall, this poem is about a dude who slowly comes to realize that even though he's chained to the earth forever, he's been unchained from everything else that might matter in life, and that gives him an odd sense of peace in the end. Meeting his parents in a way became the final point of acceptance, and a final farewell to his past life.
>>No_Raisin
>>LoftyWithers
>>Pascoite
>>Bachiavellian
>>Anon Y Mous
Thanks for the reviews, all. Grats to the medalists.
Just gonna explain this real quick. I guess you could've called this an exercise in perspective--it was written how I thought a friend of mine would've written it. Premise was fairly simple: when people die, they become ghosts forever. Then they have forever to do mostly nothing, since they're unable to interact with the real world in any way. So things that mattered in life don't matter so much anymore as a ghost--family becomes significantly less important, not much to work towards, not much point in religion, etc. Stalin and the Ukranian Jew should be mostly self-explanatory: it refers to antisemitism within the USSR and the Holodomor, a massive famine in Ukraine under Stalin's rule that's arguably classifiable as genocide. Under the premise of the poem, Hamlet would've never happened, so instead of the father-son mess that we got, nothing happened, nor would it have mattered in the end anyways. So overall, this poem is about a dude who slowly comes to realize that even though he's chained to the earth forever, he's been unchained from everything else that might matter in life, and that gives him an odd sense of peace in the end. Meeting his parents in a way became the final point of acceptance, and a final farewell to his past life.