Writing prompt 8

[fishingthe_sky]

Hello all. So, for this week's prompt, I'm thinking that perhaps one with very little requirements will be the way to go. The last few prompts have had people question them, so why not make it easy?

We all know similes, right? You know, using "like" or "as" to compare two dissimilar objects? Similes are often the first metaphors we make, simply because they're fairly easy to make. But a good simile is as potent as any poetic device. So for this week, you're going to write a 10-30 line poem that has at least 3 similes and no more than 5. That's it. You're free to make the similes whatever you want, but please please please avoid the urge to write obvious ones ("my anger is like a fire") or cliche ones ("my love is like a rose"). Make them unique, make them interesting. If it's something you've never heard before, go with it!

As always, new people are more than welcome to join in on the fun, because the more poems we have, the more we get to chat about them. And remember, if you post a poem, you have to provide a critique on at least one other poem in the thread (though of course more is always better)

[MinionOfBoredom]

I think that I'll just have to do this.

Thanks, actually. This is motivation to turn a concept with which I've been toying into an actual poem.

[Animalhill]

Awesome prompt. I'll work on it today in lieu of my job.

[TK]

Because I never go through a editing process with these, I suppose I'll post mine first.

Oh sweet window,
the wind, your turbulent foe,
constantly crashes and cracks
the glass between your wooden poles.
Now relaxing in those vacated spaces,
humming that wistful tune,
moving in and switching panes,
it pours cool thickness into the room
and every breath gets harder to catch
like a ball in the dimming afternoon.

Oh bitter motion,
the force, your tired notion,
collapses, catches,and lays you down
around those mile high glass mounds.
But in those places where
you once propelled the air
into fleeting moments of visibility,
are still traces of everything
that you used to be.
Even so, this place is at a standstill,
and just like a off track, jammed up, movie reel,
time's caught up in a single piece of film.
This isn't progressing anywhere.

Oh pressure, oh pressure,
blow hard enough, but there's
too much weight, you won't be
able to get carried away
like that leaf you once dreamed
you would be, one day.

Note: I will catch up on all my lack of critiques from the other prompt by commenting on every poem in this one.

[Ryzenfall]

Because I never go through a editing process with these, I suppose I'll post mine first.

Oh sweet window,
the wind, your turbulent foe,
constantly crashes and cracks
the glass between your wooden poles.
Now relaxing in those vacated spaces,
humming that wistful tune,
moving in and switching panes,
it pours cool thickness into the room
and every breath gets harder to catch
like a ball in the dimming afternoon.

Oh bitter motion,
the force, your tired notion,
collapses, catches,and lays you down

around those mile high glass mounds.

But in those places where
you once propelled the air
into fleeting moments of visibility,
are still traces of everything
that you used to be.
Even so, this place is at a standstill,
and just like a off track, jammed up, movie reel,
time's caught up in a single piece of film.
This isn't progressing anywhere.

Oh pressure, oh pressure,
blow hard enough, but there's
too much weight, you won't be
able to get carried away
like that leaf you once dreamed
you would be, one day.

Note: I will catch up on all my lack of critiques from the other prompt by commenting on every poem in this one.

I feel like the best stanza is the first. The imagery is matched with character so the effect of the poem lingers after the reader finishes the words. The rhyme scheme worked well here and the simile with the ball is wonderfully nostalgic. Love those last two lines there.

I really like the idea in the isolated bold line, but it reads oddly to me. The end feels congested for some reason.

This section seems a bit rocky to read. I think the rhyme scheme is somewhat hindering it. This is something that I struggle with a lot... trying to get my thoughts down first and then see if the rhymes are appropriate or not. Also, the "just like a off track" looks like it should be "just like an off track"

Don't really have much to say about the last stanza except that i like it... but it does seem out of place following the first two. It lacks some kind of Bruce Lee's left hook ending effect or something. I don't know. Maybe I'm just looking for something that isn't necessary and I walked into Pride & Prejudice expecting Black Hawk Down.

Anyway good work. You are always one of the first to do these prompts and I aspire to draw as swiftly as you someday.

[MinionOfBoredom]

On Being Fifteen

Ridiculous. Not for the oversung
anathemas, but for being like
fingernails: us you will see
drawing blood like Caravaggio
on canvasses of skin,
carving our stigmata as
a coat of arms on tables and trees,
singing symphonies on
blackboards like cheap violins,
our tireless grins growing with
each crescendo.

----


Oh sweet window,
the wind, your turbulent foe,
constantly crashes and cracks
the glass between your wooden poles.Call it a stupid nitpick, but I don't like the association between "window" and "poles"...

Now relaxing in those vacated spaces,
humming that wistful tune,
moving in and switching panes,
it pours cool thickness into the room
and every breath gets harder to catch
like a ball in the dimming afternoon.

...although I do love the slant rhymes throughout this stanza, to say the least about it. The transition from wind being a "cool thickness" to being "harder to catch" to being (like) "a ball in the dimming afternoon" -- I thoroughly enjoyed that.

Oh bitter motion,
the force, your tired notion,
collapses, catches,and lays you down
around those mile high glass mounds.
But in those places where
you once propelled the air
into fleeting moments of visibility,
are still traces of everything
that you used to be.
Even so, this place is at a standstill,
and just like a off track, jammed up, movie reel,
time's caught up in a single piece of film.
This isn't progressing anywhere.

Was it your intent to make this stanza seem...lethargic is the wrong word, but close. Perhaps "like it goes in circles" is more accurate. Regardless, the entire stanza seems to drag, but it would make sense according to the last line. I can't say that I agree with the execution, but if it's for the poetic intent, I'll take it.

Oh pressure, oh pressure,
blow hard enough, but there's
too much weight, you won't be
able to get carried away
like that leaf you once dreamed
you would be, one day.

I liked this stanza much better than the last. Short, sweet, and to the point, which is good, but my favorite thing about it is that it ends softly and elegantly.

One more nitpick: I wouldn't say that pressure "blows" (in your context, haha). It would work for wind, but it doesn't seem right with "pressure."

[Ryzenfall]

Pincers scurry closer to the break
beneath a low gray sky
to evade this blurry outline of a giant
letting the salt spittle taste their carapace skin
feeling safer, lowering flagpole eyes
as I close mine and embrace the risk of the unlikely event
of some rogue wind tipping me into the boiling cold below:
A sputtering clamwash symphony.
Sweeping trades billow across
my lips and through my quivering body.
This unrelenting wild caress
coaxes roots from my soles into
jagged crusts of rock.
The migrating tide!
Resolute wings soaring from horizon to shore,
their feathers drip from my cheek.
With closed eyes I saunter still
as though were dreaming upon a bed
in the most elegant and perilous room of all.
The waves drift like the folds of mothers
summer dress in warm flowing breeze
on some cloudy childhood yesterday.
Wrapped beneath those tall gliding skirts
is time’s oldest safety
and why so many surrender their ashes to the deep.
My serene rapture simmers like
Trojan vengeance in a wooden belly
waiting to birth some burning and
blade wielding edict of
secrets swimming beneath our chins.
Here before the vast,
peace is a welcome ache.
O vast, above and ahead!
Like two pennies in the purse of God.
The vast sways and makes me feel its pervasion.
The vast remains still and
makes me feel its pervasion
until I stray from this saline draping
mothers dress coast.

[jenna marie]

Pincers scurry closer to the break
beneath a low gray sky
to evade this blurry outline of a giant
letting the salt spittle taste their carapace skin
feeling safer, lowering their flagpole eyes
as I close mine and embrace the risk of the unlikely event
of some rogue wind tipping me into the boiling cold below:
A sputtering clamwash symphony.
The sweeping trades billow across
my lips and through my quivering body.
This unrelenting wild caress
coaxes roots from my soles into
jagged crusts of rock.
The migrating tide!
Resolute wings soaring from the horizon to shore,
their feathers drip from my cheek.
With closed eyes I saunter still
as though were dreaming upon a bed
in the most elegant and perilous room of all.
The waves drift like the folds of mothers
summer dress in warm flowing breeze
on some cloudy childhood yesterday.
Wrapped beneath those tall gliding skirts
is time’s oldest safety
and why so many surrender their ashes to the deep.
My serene rapture simmers like
Trojan vengeance in a wooden belly
waiting to birth some burning and
blade wielding edict of
secrets swimming beneath our chins.
Here before the vast,
peace is a welcome ache.
O vast, above and ahead!
Like two pennies in the purse of God.
The vast sways and makes me feel its pervasion.
The vast remains still and
makes me feel its pervasion
until I stray from this saline draping
mothers dress coast.

damn, i feel like i know you.
this was great,
;];]

[alt_esc]

While waiting beside a thought that lingers too long,
i'll find the time to cross another task off of the list
not yet completed, but started long ago.
The break I take from anxiety
can't last too long.
Morning will give away my mood,
And you'll soon find that I am not satisfied with hurting you,
but only content finding ways to avoid your company,
just as a wide-eyed child avoids another lecture.
As I stare at the knob on the stained, buckeling door, hoping it will not turn and
reveal to you my sanctuary, I begin to lie to myself
like a lover, refusing to believe of a companions unfaithfulness.
I once promised that I'd ignore more facts,
and take truth in more opinions--your opinions.
I, being nothing more than coward
in front of a page I use as a canvas,
could easily fly a flag of surrender,
offering not peace, but my life.
I, like the motionless faces of old
family photos, am immobile and feel as
if i'll always look this way.
Unsupprised and glad to see your brow tighten,
I slowly smile
when you've started to cry.

[kaduck2007]

This will be a first for me,
For I do not post poems here usually.
I sit here in bed, and type away,
Hoping my words, will not cause my topic to stray.

Now my mind has begun to wander,
And makes me think, "Should I even bother?"
I will not give up though, I'll be just like the tortoise,
Even if my rhymes have no purpose.
Thats one simile down, only two more to go.
How shall I use them, I don't even know.

Here are some facts, an introductory if you will.
I really love music, and write with no skill.
I ride on a skateboard and play the guitar,
both of which will never get me to far.
I live at home, in my father's house,
And it enjoy here, like cleavage popping out of a blouse.

Now I know I'm no writer, but I thought this was neat,
So I typed out this poem, for you all to critique.
My name is Kaduck, and all I ask of you poets,
Is "Please, don't treat me like one of those brokencyde ******s"
--------------------------------

That was fun. I know it sucks, but its like my first poem in like 10 years probably. And it sounds rather childish too. Oh well. I had fun writing it at least. I would critique when of the other poems posted before me, but I don't even know what to say about any of them. I like them all, especially the opening to the one by alt__esc.

[alt_esc]

I'm loving the imagery of Ryzenfall. It works with what you've got going and definately pushes the setting of the poem into mind.

[Ryzenfall]

...
...

On Being Fifteen

Ridiculous. Not for the oversung
anathemas, but for being like
fingernails: us you will see
drawing blood like Caravaggio
on canvasses of skin,
carving our stigmata as
coats of arms on tables and trees,
singing sweet symphonies on
blackboards like cheap violins,
our tireless grins growing with
each cacophonous crescendo.

This had a good flow to it and kept the theme of the effects of fingernails well. I had several gripes though, which I recognize only because they are common problems I often find myself committing. There is a lot of good alliteration combined with unnecessary alliteration, making the entire line seem cluttered ( caravaggio on canvasses of skin carving our stigmata a coats of arms on tables and trees singing sweet symphonies...). There are a lot of "c" and "s" sounds in that section, and in the whole poem as a whole. It's possible that this was done for a jarring effect of the image being presented, however it largely just comes off as crowded. The last line really brings light to all of this, so I suggest changing that last line if anything. Other than that, it's a solid piece, and I really like that you pulled from your own experience and not just trying to write about something you know nothing about, because you can tell this is genuine.

-----------------------

While waiting beside a thought that lingers too long,
i'll find the time to cross another task off of the list
not yet completed, but started long ago.

I really love this intro. It's relatable and yet ambiguous enough to garner desired interest.

The break I take from anxiety
can't last too long.
Morning will give away my mood,
And you'll soon find that I am not satisfied with hurting you,
but only content finding ways to avoid your company,

The ideas here are great, however I think you can find a way to communicate them more smoothly.

just as a wide-eyed child avoids another lecture.

This simile really captured character. Well done.

As I stare at the knob on the stained, buckeling door, hoping it will not turn and
reveal to you my sanctuary, I begin to lie to myself
like a lover, refusing to believe of a companions unfaithfulness.

This last line I think can be done differently while still communicating the same message. For some reason it reads a little bit forced and borderline cliche. And it seems that the simile is describing the actual case, if I'm not mistaken. It's like a dolphin writing a poem about himself saying "I leap through the waves just like a dolphin."

I once promised that I'd ignore more facts,
and take truth in more opinions--your opinions.
I, being nothing more than coward
in front of a page I use as a canvas,
could easily fly a flag of surrender,
offering not peace, but my life.

There is good material here. I think that it could be pulled together more for more cohesiveness though. It seems a little disjoined as it is, and can potentially confuse some readers.

I, like the motionless faces of old
family photos, am immobile and feel as
if i'll always look this way.

Your similes are all strong, and this is another great marriage of imagery and revealing insight on the author.

Unsupprised and glad to see your brow tighten,

I think you were going for "unsurprised."

I slowly smile
when you've started to cry.

I liked this ending. It brings closure and reveals much by saying little.

This was very honest and gracefully done, and with a few tweaks I think this has the potential to be even more solid than it already is.

[alt_esc]

Many thanks on the critique. I definitely will work on improving this. About the spelling..I have no excuse. Thanks again Ryzenfall for your advice. Every bit helps!

[MinionOfBoredom]

Thanks for the critique, Ryzenfall. I totally get what you mean about the incessant alliteration and consonance after a reread.

Took out some words, de-pluralized "coats," was gonna change "carving" to "scratching" but then realized that it wouldn't do anything for the sound...although I'm tempted to put "scratching" there anyway because it would make more sense for fingernails.

[TK]

. I just haven't had the time to sit down and really read these and critique them. I won't give a time frame, but I promise, I will comment on all of these eventually. Sorry for my lameness.

[Ryzenfall]

Many thanks on the critique. I definitely will work on improving this. About the spelling..I have no excuse. Thanks again Ryzenfall for your advice. Every bit helps!

No problem. I go by Jay here, so you can just call me that. I'll check out your other work soon!

Thanks for the critique, Ryzenfall. I totally get what you mean about the incessant alliteration and consonance after a reread.

Took out some words, de-pluralized "coats," was gonna change "carving" to "scratching" but then realized that it wouldn't do anything for the sound...although I'm tempted to put "scratching" there anyway because it would make more sense for fingernails.

Ha, alliteration is great, which is why it's so easy to go overboard. I do it often. Don't take out the right word just to cut down on clutter though. If it's cluttered, there are probably some right words and some that can be changed, but having the right word in it's place is the priority. Also, you can call me Jay instead of the username, haha.

[TK]

Pincers scurry closer to the break
beneath a low gray sky
to evade this blurry outline of a giant
letting the salt spittle taste their carapace skin
feeling safer, lowering flagpole eyes
as I close mine and embrace the risk of the unlikely event
of some rogue wind tipping me into the boiling cold below:
A sputtering clamwash symphony.
Sweeping trades billow across
my lips and through my quivering body.
This unrelenting wild caress
coaxes roots from my soles into
jagged crusts of rock.
The migrating tide!
Resolute wings soaring from horizon to shore,
their feathers drip from my cheek.
With closed eyes I saunter still
as though were dreaming upon a bed
in the most elegant and perilous room of all.
The waves drift like the folds of mothers
summer dress in warm flowing breeze
on some cloudy childhood yesterday.
Wrapped beneath those tall gliding skirts
is time’s oldest safety
and why so many surrender their ashes to the deep.
My serene rapture simmers like
Trojan vengeance in a wooden belly
waiting to birth some burning and
blade wielding edict of
secrets swimming beneath our chins.
Here before the vast,
peace is a welcome ache.
O vast, above and ahead!
Like two pennies in the purse of God.
The vast sways and makes me feel its pervasion.
The vast remains still and
makes me feel its pervasion
until I stray from this saline draping
mothers dress coast.

Some of the imagery here is great, but at times, the wording feels contrived or force. Quote me, and I'll make sure to go in depths either tomorrow or Wednesday.

[Ryzenfall]

Some of the imagery here is great, but at times, the wording feels contrived or force. Quote me, and I'll make sure to go in depths either tomorrow or Wednesday.

Quoted.

(Also, thanks for giving this a look. I'll look forward to your full critique.)

[npmshah]

So i decided to give this a shot. This is a poem i wrote recently, and it fits in the requirements. Tell me what you think! (especially you, Brian):

The thread of our relationship
snipped in two
lying in the trash
like a meaningless rakhi
devoid of its strength
its promise of pretection
But who really broke it?
The one who wore it?
Who promised to defend.
Or the one who bestowed it?
Asking for that bond.
And where are we now?
Do we still have the bond that's
as strong as your stubborn, iron will?
Will i ever protect you
like a hunter with its cub?
I doubt it
But for that i blame you.

[npmshah]

On Being Fifteen

Ridiculous. Not for the oversung
anathemas, but for being like
fingernails: us you will see
drawing blood like Caravaggio
on canvasses of skin,
carving our stigmata as
a coat of arms on tables and trees,
singing symphonies on
blackboards like cheap violins,
our tireless grins growing with
each crescendo.


amazing poem, brian.
i think the only problem i could find was already said by Ryzenfall. That some of the alliteration seemed crowded.

[TK]

Pincers scurry closer to the break
beneath a low gray sky
to evade this blurry outline of a giant
letting the salt spittle taste their carapace skin
feeling safer, lowering flagpole eyes
as I close mine and embrace the risk of the unlikely event
of some rogue wind tipping me into the boiling cold below:
A sputtering clamwash symphony.


I'm still not sure if I like the opening. The first line seems very odd, which seemed intriguing but also like you could have led into it. I liked "flagpole eyes", while I'm still unsure about "boiling cold". I understand what you're trying to describe, but just reading it doesn't feel quite right because of the oxymoron it is. The last line had a very nice description and sound to it. I have to complement you on your internal rhyming, if that's what you were going for.


Sweeping trades billow across
my lips and through my quivering body.
This unrelenting wild caress
coaxes roots from my soles into
jagged crusts of rock.
The migrating tide!
Resolute wings soaring from horizon to shore,
their feathers drip from my cheek.


I really didn't like this with the exception to the last two lines. "Sweeping trades billow across" was nice, but the middle of this just seems unnecessary. I'm not sure, but I'm just not a fan of this section.


With closed eyes I saunter still
as though were dreaming upon a bed
in the most elegant and perilous room of all.
The waves drift like the folds of mothers
summer dress in warm flowing breeze
on some cloudy childhood yesterday.
Wrapped beneath those tall gliding skirts
is time’s oldest safety
and why so many surrender their ashes to the deep.


This has great imagery, but I feel the second and third line could use some work. The third one seems particularly wordy.


My serene rapture simmers like
Trojan vengeance in a wooden belly
waiting to birth some burning and
blade wielding edict of
secrets swimming beneath our chins.
Here before the vast,
peace is a welcome ache.
O vast, above and ahead!
Like two pennies in the purse of God.
The vast sways and makes me feel its pervasion.
The vast remains still and
makes me feel its pervasion
until I stray from this saline draping
mothers dress coast.

I know I'm probably nitpicking, but I really hate the use of "serene" in here. The next four lines are nice, but I'm not a fan of all the wording. Particularly "waiting to birth". It just seems awkward to me. Also, I didn't like the repeated use of "vast" in the end. It detracted from the reading of the lines, at least for me. Again, though, I like the last line. Overall, Good Job.

[fishingthe_sky]

Hey guys, I'm just letting you know that going to comment on all of these and post prompt 9 within the next two days, and perhaps post my own. But in looking over these, they look great. Good job, all.