The broken down smile, the broken down sky.
He smiles because it looks like rain again.
He had a dream last night about the graveyard,
the silent bedroom he now stands in,
about the grave with the boy underneath.
He dreamed of floods and flaws and flowers,
waters rising with the bodies, higher and higher.
A burst brain, a hemorrhage,
a vessell streched too far,
the boy, the boy, the boy.
We miss him, we called, our hands tied
behind our backs, forced to tell
and condemn the truth.
He is the one underneath
the petal-laced bed.
That poem-laced brain of his,
it was the death of him in the end;
the tongue sharpened to cut throats
now swollen, choking, choking,
his death has choked his pale, shaking lovers.
Splendours.
We visited his bedroom afterward.
It smelt of incense and cast-aways,
strays collecting like dust,
raincoats volunteering themselves from
the abandoned wardrobe.
He had sequin stars scattered across the floor
like tiny spatterings of rain -
he must have knocked them there
when he'd last left.
Falling stars, the skies falling,
down, down, down,
into the wooden-walled bed.
A broken heart, a broken brain,
a fallen boy too soon laid down.
He never seemed so in control
in the last conversation,
the last time we said goodbye.
His goodbyes were heart breaks in themselves.
Everything,
everyone,
broken.
He loved too much, the boy, the boy,
he loved the fickle father and mother,
he loved the fists and the intensity.
He loved the first home, the next house.
He loved his saviour, called upon him
as his true love.
He said he loved me once.
Harmless, we thought him.
Harmless.
Hated by his Catholic salvation.
No danger ran like spice in his blood.
Blood and blood, and breaking pieces,
breaking cars and screeching brains.
Bluebird, bluebird,
that was his name.
He decided to save the sky and burned away
by flying too close to the sun.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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smile, the broken down sky -> smile, in a broken down sky. Pulls the phrases together more.
He smiles at the coming rain?
In a dream last night
a graveyard in the silent bedroom
floods and flaws and flowers
water filled with bodies, rising higher
Excellent poem, I had fun rephrasing it as above
In general I prefered less repetition, and a bit more consiceness. Some of the images are long and strung together in a list - like the bedroom and graveyard, and should be combined or rephrased.
Great read, thanks!
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Tremendous
My first impression was of extream sadness. I tended to get emotional about all of the poem so it would be too hard to say that any part of it was better than any other. It says a lot about the feelings you had for this person. He was very special to you and it hurt much more than just words could adequitly tell. You chose the only way that there is to say what should have been said and that is by writing a poem. I hope that it helped, for there is no better release of anguish than putting your words in a beautiful even if sad poem.
. Rewarded 8
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<
Thank you.
He did indeed write poetry, and religion was forced upon him from a young age (in fact, you're right again - his mother was Irish, and his father a strict Catholic as well), and because he was gay he found it extremely difficult and troubling.
Once again, thank you.
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This is a vivid picture painted by words, and the repetition in many places adds immensely to the tale. There is such sadness and longing, and the magnetism of the departed character comes through immediately in the feelings of those remembering him. I want to read a prequel and a sequel to this. I think it strays a bit in some places, could be tighter, because you have some absolutely stellar lines.It seems that the line "down and down and down" could be something different, like down, down down, needs a different rhythm there. This is a brilliantly emotional work.
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Thanks very much for your comment. A prequel would most likely be 'After the Hazard Lights' and a sequel will be anything I next write, seeing as this was inspired by a friend's death.
Thanks for your suggestions, I'll definitely incorporate your idea about the "down and down and down" line, thanks.
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this was so sad
i felt so many different emotions as i read this
great work
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Thanks!
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I really hate to do anything even remotely like a critical review, because this poem seems to come from the heart. I really feel that this, it seems, is a poem of real emotion for you. If that was what you wished to convey, you did so admirably, and beautifully.
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Thanks a lot!
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This poem is so sad to me. The way you wrote this, the way you made me feel, the way you controlled the flow in your writing was so professional. I truly think this is a professional poem. But it made me sad... The title was very effective and I loved how in some of the lines you repeated for effect. "He loved too much, the boy, the boy," Very effective poem
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Thank you for your comment.
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It dances, I think.
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Oh Bella
(The arms of the clappy men look like antlers.)
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I don't know what to say about this. It hurts to read.
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Thanks very much for your comment, and all your previous comments. I really appreciate them.
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