With eyes like shining diamonds, a dark smile, quick hands;
I flung him against the ebony door.
Passion, fast and imminent.
The sudden change from tenderness to raw, tightening;
sometimes frightening, but always exciting.
His over-zealousness was too much for some.
In his stupidity, he tried it, wanted it for free;
They cried,
Then they died.
They don’t understand he cracks the whip with them.
But the cowering little man comes home,
Expects a beating before eating.
He can enjoy the cabbage, knowing safely that it has
Suffered, spluttered,
Choked in the pan.
After the last story, when the last of my letters was published,
So pleased was I that I couldn’t keep him any longer,
They would have found him soon after.
The blade tucked into my boot-tops, snug to my thigh,
I cornered him.
Pressed my lips to his
And let his sticky, red passion spill on to the
floor.
Author notes
Option B.
I wrote this when I was 16, and very new to poetry.
A contest entry
- Inside the Mind of Madness by Synthetic-Nightmare.
1500 points, ended January 25, 2008, 34 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - murder PW ALLOWED!! by callmeZakk.
500 points, ended July 3, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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nice imagery youd make a very good story writer
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Oh, thanks. I'm not really a fan of stories; I prefer using every word as an important one, rather than long concepts and their development - I'm not comitted for long enough, I'm sure.
Sarah
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yeah i am a native english speaker why?
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well its strictly my poem and i wrote the poem and thats what i think. i write the poem for me and because thats what i think.
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That's certainly one way to look at it. I tend not to care if people dislike my poetry, or how they perceive it, although I adore it when they think differently to me, even if dismisses some of my craftmanship
What's more, I never get annoyed with anyone for their thoughtful and insightful comments, or for their suggestions to me.
By the way, are you English/a native English speaker?
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great poem. oh and to answer your question, yes perception does matter but sometimes readers dont understand the whole meaning behind the poem that you write and sometimes people say that it didnt make sense or didnt sound right but it meant the world to the writer. so all in all the writers opinion matters the most.
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I disagree - a piece of poetry can be anything to anyone, and that perception is no less valid than that of any other one person, including the writer.
If a writer aims to communicate a specific idea or an emotion, they must execute it with clarity, or accept that each person will take their own meaning from this. Everyone's perception is formed by their own experiences, including teaching, general acceptance of words and meaning of those words/sounds, and subsequently, only those who have shared those exact experiences and interpretted them (and the source) in the same way will have the exact same perception. Therefore, the writer is unlikely to put across the exact emotion that a reader will gain.
You should read Jauss's reception theory (but it's in German), Jenny Doctor's PhD on similar, L'Art et la Musiqe, and well...there's a long long list. I wrote a fairly lengthy essay on the perception of Music and art - if you want to keep discussing it, I'd be really interested
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I loved.
It was great.
:]
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I like this one a lot, They cried, Then they died. Is a very good line.
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Perhaps Jack met his end this way,who knows?
but when the murders stopped in London,a new wave of killings started in New York in a similar way,a copy cat killer perhaps? or had the heat got to much and Jack boarded a boat across the Atlantic? and started a new.
http://allpoetry.com/poem/3599218
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WOW......WOW,
this was definitely chilling, and a very gripping piece of literature. I think you wrote it very effectively and it DEFNINITELY got my heart racing. I'm very glad you decided to enter this into my contest......thanks and good luck
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I have to confess that I am not entirely sure what I think of this. I'm not a tremendous Duffy fan, although I have one poem I wrote in an imitation of her style myself. However, I am confused as to which poem or song this is meant to be your spoof of. I understand that you are spoofing a style of writing, but I believe I made it perfectly clear that had you any other ideas, you would run them by me before jumping in.
You've taken some easy rhymes here, one in particular jumps out at me; 'They cried. Then they died.' The last stanza is the best, and would be better, but the poem, though keeping its focus entirely, did not keep my attention. Perhaps it's too obvious an emulation of her style. I do appreciate that this was your intention, and you imitate well, but I'm afraid you're imitating a poet I'm not fond of. The idea is clever too. There's just something a little off with this. I can't put my finger on it, let's put it down to personal taste. Thank you very much for your entry; I genuinely appreciate your effort, and wish you better fortunes with the multitude of other contests you've entered this in.
Regards.
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I took that from Carol Ann Duffy - slate her, if you will, but I think her "World's Wife" book is inspiring.
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