Frozen.
Her eyes are fierce and chilled.
Body slowed down but heart still so very much alive.
The smoke still lingers in the air, swirling above their hung heads like the aftermath of a disappointing Fourth of July show.
And this is the Grand Finale.
_______________________________________________________
Time passed, despite her attempts to halt the process.
The summer faded to early nights and golden crisps. Cocoons rotted and angry mosquitos ran for shelter. Weather still suitable for sandy toes and backyard bonfires but none of that mattered-- her eyes were as cold as ever [as blue as ever].
The bittersweet taste of inebriant guilt left a brand on her conscious that night. She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby and played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks. She traced the flicker of the candle on the opposite wall and tried to imagine the heavens.
Was this fixable?
Was she fixable?
She spun a web of armor tight around her chest, fearing that the gods might tear it down in shame. Who knew dusty altars could be so beautiful? Like picking meat off a bone, she freed her kneecap from chips of porcelain and cigarette burns; it was clear her circulation was pleading for obliteration.
She was certaintly too old for false security in holy confessions but, much like an innocent child, anything is better than to be alone.
In a list
A contest entry
- Raindrops On Roses And The Kittens Are Dead by Exodus.
870 points, ended July 12, 2007, 16 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - prose by Swan song.
1100 points, ended July 14, 2007, 13 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Prewrites by February Moon.
1750 points, ended July 31, 2007, 20 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The most difficult... by file not found.
475 points, ended August 7, 2007, 27 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - ♥ Letters ♥ by Atrophya.
600 points, ended August 28, 2007, 34 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Short Stories... by MotherMachineGunn.
515 points, ended September 21, 2007, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 36 of 36
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Wow! The imagery is amazing! REALLY AMAZING! I hope your book gets published so I can read it! Good luck in the contest!
Luv ya oodles!
Courtney
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Definitely gorgeous!! I still feel that way!! =]
I LOVE IT!!
Gl in the contest. -
THIS IS GORGEOUS, IFL It. lol. Gorgeous, You should publish your book when you're done, I'm sure it would be a bestseller. =]
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I think more... unique forms are worth more than writing the same as the others do. I liked this. Good luck!
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"She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby and played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks. "
"She was certaintly too old for false security in holy confessions but, much like an innocent child, anything is better than to be alone."
hm, actually the structure didn't even catch my eye-- only the words! which is good. some prose really irritates my brain, because it's so full and not enough room to breathe or think. but this was no such case. nice job on the trophies!
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brilliant the first time, and even more wonderful the seconnd! ily bby!
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Congrats on the HMs you have won with this. Amazing prose. the imagery really let me see what you were saying. Thank you so much entering and good luck!
Chelsea
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This piece tires me. That sounds a lot harsher than I mean for it to. I don't understand why it exhausts me. I just don't know.
I'm going to remove it because it's not what I'm looking for. This is so strange to me. I just can't pinpoint... -
I loved this the first time I read it, and the second, and I still love it now =]
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The bittersweet taste of inebriant guilt left a brand on her conscious that night. She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby and played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks. She traced the flicker of the candle on the opposite wall and tried to imagine the heavens.
beautiful descriptions painted in this verse. a read to be proud of. -
hahaha...structure?
"it needs structure..."
"this isn't poetry, it's just ranting..."
"this needs yada yada yada...."
OH MY HELL -- BITCH MUCH?
k, now that i'm done with that...
this is amazing bby, and i absolutely love it. it is definately on of your best, and i am so impressed.
i can honestly relate to almost the whole thing. its so amazing, and it never dies out, the whole piece is just so strong. i love it, and this piece makes me so proud of you.
""The bittersweet taste of inebriant guilt left a brand on her conscious that night. She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby and played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks.""
its hard to pick a favorite part of this piece, but if i had to this would be it.
your amazing bby -- dont let anyone tell you different! -
I have to say that there were two sentences that REALLY caught my attention;
"Time passed, despite her attempts to halt the process."
&&
"She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby and played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks."
I'm so glad I decided to put this option up if this is the sort of thing I get =]
Thank you so much for entering it ^_^
P.S. I would have thought that as poets we could recognise the difference between poetry and prose. There's nothing wrong with the structure =] -
I am saying nothig about the structure because the way you designed this poem makes it better and I think easier to read. I will be back to read this again thank you very much
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My favorite line was "Was she fixable?"
I like this, it's different. -
Was this fixable?
Was she fixable?
She spun a web of armor tight around her chest, fearing that the gods might tear it down in shame. Who knew dusty altars could be so beautiful? Like picking meat off a bone, she freed her kneecap from chips of porcelain and cigarette burns; it was clear her circulation was pleading for obliteration.
She was certaintly too old for false security in holy confessions but, much like an innocent child, anything is better than to be alone.
oh my gosh bb this poem is AMAZING
<3
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This might have worked better in my prose contest, but I gotta say I really enjoyed it. The final paragraph was beautiful constructed with strong imagery to support the rest of the piece. Thank you for entering my contest.
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Well;; sweetpearl pretty much kicked my ass at commenting this [amazing] piece Jaders haha. I don't have anything else to say except I'm glad I was the first wife of such a brilliant girl. ily bb=]
"
The smoke still lingers in the air, swirling above their hung heads like the aftermath of a disappointing Fourth of July show.
And this is the Grand Finale."
orgasmic much?
♥
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HAHAHAHAHA omg I'm sorry babe, some of those comments made me laugh. No structure? HAHAHA do these people not know what the fuck poetry is? Do they not know forms? Prose, people, prose, look it up if you're unfamiliar or don't bother commenting. Oh man, I really got a laugh, sorry.
ANYHOO
This is (gasp) beyond amazing, truly. It's entered in "your best poem - prewrites" for a reason. I am glad you see it as one of your best because it really is. It never gets watery, it's fully stocked with line after line of stuffed goodness. It's a full piece, nothing goes wrong, it's totally satisfiable.
"Cocoons rotted and angry mosquitos ran for shelter"
--I love how nature is brought into this piece, it goes well with the feeling. Almost feels like the dying of a season as well as the dying of the inside of a person. You can't fix that. I'll believe you can when someone fixes me.
"her eyes were as cold as ever"
--I can relate to this. It reminds me of how people say I always look sad. Maybe it's my eyes, I don't know. I also got a comment once when I was having sex that I looked like I was going to murder him ... something to do with my eyes. Hm, hey man, if I look sad or evil it's not my fault, I can't help it if my depressive rage comes out through my eyes. Rambling on.
"She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby"
--fantastic image here. I bite the skin around my fingers, they're always so red and infected. It's disgusting to look at, it's really taken a toll on my confidence. (Another side story, eh - sick of them yet? Hah). Sometimes I wonder how I can do so much damage to myself. This reminded me of that.
"She traced the flicker of the candle on the opposite wall"
--another fabulous image. I can see the girl in a dark room with only a candle lit and tracing the shadow that is reflected on to the wall. I do that a lot with random objects.
"She spun a web of armor tight around her chest"
--fucking YES! That's all I can say, love this line most possibly (hah I question, it's all good).
Seriously a great write, you should be really proud of this one. The imagery was flying off the screen, a great descriptive story without losing any poetic feel. Magnificant and stunning!
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can i just say your poetry is amazing!
i really like your style and the way it all works,
i really like prose and the way it all works...
"played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks"
"She spun a web of armor tight around her chest, fearing that the gods might tear it down in shame"
i like the structure
the structure some are looking for would be boring (only it would be impossible to make this boring but...)
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I don't see the structure as a problem at all. It's very well written. Structured chaos. Very nice.
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To those who would complain.
I truly admire this poem. The structrue, which seems to be a point of complaint through the previous comments is not seen for its worth. The body of this writing tells of a woman in shame. The thoughts are chaotic matching in theme with a real situation.
...
The end told before the body of the work. Still very up to speed. Some people see things that way while they are in pain. If you read it as though you were in a suicidal state the structure makes perfect sence.
Strong work.
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I enjoyed reading this Doll.x.
The only issue was, for me the structure;
I mean, there are some lovely metaphors in this poem, and a little structure could highlight this.
Nice write sweety.x.
x
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this is a strange one. some work on structure may be in order, but maybe not. i like the long lines because they are not filled with pointless filler words. instead you actually say quite a bit. very descriptive and good vocab.
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It was okay. Like Drumming Poet said it needs some work on the structure. Good luck.
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"Was this fixable?
Was she fixable?"
oh.my.LORD.
this is...amazing darling.
you better win gold, or I'll cry.
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There's no structure. The first little bit could be called poetry, but after the grand finale line, it's just paragraphs. Poetry is about structure and verse, not just an outpouring of words.
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She spun a web of armor tight around her chest, fearing that the gods might tear it down in shame. Who knew dusty altars could be so beautiful? Like picking meat off a bone, she freed her kneecap from chips of porcelain and cigarette burns; it was clear her circulation was pleading for obliteration.
Holyyyyy, this is one of the best poems I have EVER read.
I have so much to say about this piece and yet all words have escaped me. Your ending was freakin' brilliant and the beginning was genuis. You blow me away with every word you write. I love this and I love you prettybaby
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The bittersweet taste of inebriant guilt left a brand on her conscious that night. She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby and played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks. She traced the flicker of the candle on the opposite wall and tried to imagine the heavens.
omg hun this is amazing!!!
absolutly amazing!!
you are such a grat writer. awesome job.
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This is wonderful.
Your description and metaphors are amazing.
Stunning. <3 -
awesome glad to have you join, I loved your story very much, so good luck in my contest! Also I invite you to and interactive story I created for people to write with each other. An interactive story is a choose your own story; one writer writes a chapter then gives the next author choices on what to write next, you keep readin till you come to the end where it is your chance to add a chapter! You may find this interactive story on my profile here ... look for the name SoulSide Trip: www.writing.com/authors/trytothink! Have fun, and i am glad to have read your entry!
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The smoke still lingers in the air, swirling above their hung heads like the aftermath of a disappointing Fourth of July show.
And this is the Grand Finale
&&
played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks.
&&
Was this fixable?
Was she fixable?
THOSE LINES SMACKED ME UPSIDE THE FACE
you rock.
&&
anything is better than to be alone
GREAT ending
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"She was certaintly too old for false security in holy confessions but, much like an innocent child, anything is better than to be alone."
this is a very honest write; like most of yours i believe; but i feel this held onto my heart most of all. ah i cant believe i forgot to comment this! its too amazing for words darlin'
♥
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HolyJesusMoses girl!
Baby,
you are beautiful!
and so is your poetry.
I'm always speechless when it comes to you hunniepie.
I love you forever. and ever.
But you already know that. ♥
~Princess of Shadows~
[ps: you better win, or I'm going to
poke someone in the eye ] -
The bittersweet taste of inebriant guilt left a brand on her conscious that night. She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby and played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks. She traced the flicker of the candle on the opposite wall and tried to imagine the heavens.
Was this fixable?
Was she fixable?
wow. this is .AMAZE. i love it doll
X
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holy bejesus kid!
if anything like that ever left my fingertips id become a hermit.
this is so amazing, the imagery and the metaphors are incredible.
me gusta mucho
XxshotxX
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wicked.
i lovelovelove it.
I leaves me feeling sad and lonely inside.
The bittersweet taste of inebriant guilt left a brand on her conscious that night. She bit her nail-beds until her fingerprints were outlined in ruby and played hide-and-seek with the mirror until she lost herself between the cracks. She traced the flicker of the candle on the opposite wall and tried to imagine the heavens.
just fantastic dollface.
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