I don’t know what you did,
what breed of voodoo
you drew my purple bones through,
like thread through a needle’s eye –
long and thin and brittle.
Even my fingernails are crying now
with a sound like ivory snow.
You know, I never needed you
until you came,
shadowed and distant
but oh so very close.
It isn’t fair, the way
you magicked my eyelids
into glass doll’s eyes
and pinned open
things I didn’t know I wanted
like a frail butterfly in a box,
only to take the wings away
before my tarsals
could grasp the threads.
Bones have such a hollow sound
when they click emptily.
I used to dream in black and white
before you showed me
the shades of night,
bright cheekbones and ulnas,
the thrush in the cat’s mouth.
Now, I dream colors
I can never have.
Author notes
Tragically beautiful - fantastically beautiful. Beautiful I didn't know existed until it was shown to me and then taken away. It's worse than never knowing it - you can't yearn for what you don't know...
I'm feeling a little bitter - I apologize for that.
A contest entry
- A Bowl of Beautiful by dance for me.
600 points, ended May 13, 9 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Speak your mind.
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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And that is exactly how I would describe your poem: tragically beautiful and fantastically beautiful. Excellence in motion of your words. Keep up the good job, this is a most wonderful piece.
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It is very hard to capture such beauty when writing a free style poem. I proudly applaud you in your accomplishment.
At this point I though the end would be happy:
Bones have such a hollow sound
when they click emptily.
I used to dream in black and white
before you showed me
the shades of night,
bright cheekbones and ulnas,
the thrush in the cat’s mouth.
Now, I dream colors
I can never have.
But when I finished, I realized the true sorrow this story represents.
Good job.
(DK) -
wonderous
I enjoyed the imagery and it was most deserving the gold...Such discriptions...fantastic...~mandie~ -
I don't think this one is bitter, or if you feel a bit bitter, then it doesn't show here. What this poem does show is the colours of something that was once so beautiful and then it faded... I guess we've all been there..
There is an emptiness here that speaks in capital letters, and that emptiness comes from loss (that alliterative partner of love, lol) - perhaps it is like with life/death. There is some intense emotion expressed here through great use of language and metaphor; i could feel this one, yet you kept it intact... just enough said.
And your author's notes.... beautifully stated..spot-on. I wish you "filled bones"..
~ Nicolette
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Thank you so much - your words mean a lot to me! "Filled bones" - I like that.
Mostly it just feels good to have this poem written and no longer haunting the closets of my mind. Poetry is cathartic, isn't it?
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Oh wow - I am taken away by the feeling of emptiness in this poem. It is very beautifully written, even tho it seems to be a bit dark - I see the colors Best of luck in the contest
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For me, this poem moved from being breathtakingly lovely - with the imagery and wordings - to being plain and nearly cliche.
I'll take you at your word that you're interested in some honest critique and just go down a few points that came to me as I read.
Syntactic ambiguity here:
"like thread through a needle’s eye –
long and thin and brittle."
The structure does not make clear if it is the thread that's long and thin (this is the interpretation I'm incline towards) or the needle's eye. Yes, logic inclines the reader towards thread - but maybe a restructuring of that bit would make it instantly non-ambiguous?
This bit;
"You know, I never needed you
until you came,
shadowed and distant
but oh so very close."
To be honest, I would just cut it. This pulled me out of the read and mood set up by the thick and graceful images of S1 and made me wrinkle my nose. Is this part really necessary for the overall meaning? If so, is there perhaps another way to phrase it?
"like a frail butterfly " <- redundancy here. The very image of a butterfly implies frailness; there's no reason to inform the reader the butterfly's frail.
"when they click emptily" <- The emptily here just killed me. It just jarred for me.
Overall, the imagery moves from needle, fingernails, dolls, butterfly, bones, cat. Now, I can imagine all but butterfly being part of voodoo imagery, or all but cat and butterfly being part of artificiality and death theme, but all together, these images are difficult to hold in mind and unite. Perhaps the butterfly part can be taken out without any loss (butterflies are often used in poems, so it wouldn't be a loss I bet).
Looking back on my critique, it kinda sounds "rawr bad bad poetry rawr" but this piece has tons of things going for it. (Which is why I decided to comment, actually). It's great - imagery-wise and sound-wise. And I really hope that my thoughts are some bit helpful if you choose to revise.
I'm going to leave off now, but I'm glad I had a chance to read this piece; it was a pleasure. Good luck writing (and in that contest!), and if you have any questions about my opinions here, please, just sent me a message.
Cheers for the read,
Nocturne
. Rewarded 8
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Very good suggestions all around! I do appreciate it when someone gives an honest critique - it gives me all kinds of good ideas! Eventually I am going to rewrite this piece, but I think I need to wait until I'm not quite as bitter so that my cynicism doesn't eclipse my aesthetics. Thank you for all of your suggestions and insight - they are sound and helpful and very much appreciated!
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Eerie, but in a good way.
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don't apologize for the bitter, because the result is the wonderfully descriptive conversation that reminds one of Sylvia Plath...well written, intense, just slightly disturbing...I don't know if that if what you are going for, but I really enjoyed it as such..."even my fingernails are crying now/with a sound like ivory snow" all just like that line, creepy but beautiful
. Rewarded 8
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nice work! I'm being harsh since its good and seems like it can take it
great ending! Perhaps last two lines in their own stanza, sonnet-like.
sometimes a bit wordy, like 'bones have such a hollow sound'. Make it active perhaps, and condense it - hollow sounds of bone, something like that.
almost clicke - "I never needed you
until you came".
definitely cliche - 'oh so very'
'before my tarsals' = not sure why you didn't use fingers here? -
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Not so harsh - I like it when people are honest anyways.
I agree with both of your "cliche" comments and the fact that I tend to be wordy. I was a prosist first - it's hard to reverse engineer to poetry.
As for the tarsal, I had several reasons for them I suppose. Not to explicate my entire poem (*laughs*), but it kind of followed with the bones and "ossified" theme. It also (I hope) conveyed the sense that things have been stripped away and left bare. Plus, you just don't see enough tarsals in poetry.
Thanks for your comments - very useful!
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