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Numbing Night
Pools of night, pale moonlight
pour on my face,
attempting to erase
any trace of day,
everything I had to say.
Lay back, attempting to relax
while the pulsing head
grips the treads,
intertwined inside my mind
of memories I dread
Wet grass clings to my back
as I shift inside my skin,
staring toward the black,
nothingness above
and my mind still pulses numb.
Soon the beams will trickle down,
illuminate the world I knew,
singe the night and cold blue light
leaving only me,
a withered shell for all to see.
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| This is very your style, recognisable layered on images, with a distinctive physicality combined with the visual which I have noticed before. Its almost as if your poems sometimes are meant to be felt (as in physical senses, texture, temperature, liquidity, etc) with that appeal as they are read. |
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Comment by: akabinny Online- 2008-05-12 11:00
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I like this, though the rhythm could use a lot of tweaking to incease the piece's appeal.
I'll give you an example with the first verse.
Pools of midnight, palest moonlight
pour upon my shadowed face,
attempting, (it's) tempting to erase
any trace of time or day,
or everything I had to say.
The words aren't really what matters in this case, but the verse feels more full now that it follows a set pattern in rhythm.
I would suggest that you look over the poem, and try to fix it to a rhythmic scheme and see how it turns out.
Good work. |
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