Ember glows with fury in the afternoon sun.
Rays of sunlight draw patterns on her complexion.
Her face, distant in a floral pattern,
Tells stories of alabaster...
Looming ember faces appear as the sun retires,
Tales hidden in the lines of their expressions
Their ember faces
Sands melt on their brow and turn to drops of glass.
Lost on the maps of their appearance.
Glowing ember wrath
Her one joyful face disintegrates into hollow fear,
All we see is their ember faces.
A contest entry
- Anatomy lesson #12 by MissStranger.
600 points, ended January 21, 2008, 8 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - your best work composed over the last twelve months by Lute.
600 points, ended January 9, 2008, 68 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Your Best PREWRITES.... by wakingdevil.
600 points, ended January 22, 2008, 59 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Enjoyable read, with some fine imagery. Very well penned, good luck with it in the contest
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Liked the imagery in this, it was well written and expressed.There was a nice flow to it, and it was well worded.Thanks for entering and best of luck
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This is a lovely dark write thank you very much for this submission.
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content-7.4
vocabulary-9
accuracy-7.1
creativity-7.4
theme-7.3
originality-7.3
totals-45.5
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BRAVO
well done indeed! I don't know what to say!you've taken the topic towards a very unique level!loved the atmosphere!thank you for enetring and good luck in the contest!
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blueprint for understanding... I'll pay a little
crises can be scripted
there seems to be a fervent imprint to this as well as shaky pillar under heat so to speak.
the first line works for me as an uncomfortable down turn with burning life; cool shadows of such time emerge with thermal emotional effect of who's known one maybe. there's a strong outside theme with major words, almost as campfire reflection of leaving building of existence to mercy... like with what's been witnessed.
the curious connecting line was "Tales hidden in the lines of their expressions" as wrinkles etcetera are by participation and effect. Next it seems shards of sharing are felt on meditative beach per se sinking in, covering viewed self away :
"Sands melt on their brow and turn to drops of glass"
and the identity is still sharp under such, and worry of cut doesn't develop anything else. psychologically puzzling.
you finished nicely to start our wondering,
also called
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