Question:
What do you think of my poem.........?
Ok here is one of my first gothish poems. Tell me what you think.
Title : Sickened soul
my tortured soul lay as unforgiving eyes peer down
as blackened memories fade away, remembering my once happy
life
tears of tented blood roll down my emotionless face
as my body is torn from the inside out, by the shadows of the unknown
you have now takin all that was once treasured
i hope your happy
Best Answer - Chosen by Asker:
criticisms:
"Title : Sickened soul"
to be honest, not very tasteful.
"my tortured soul lay as unforgiving eyes peer down"
inconsistent verb conjugation [lay, peer].
"as blackened memories fade away, remembering my once happy life"
if you are trying to convey hopelessness, why bother including reference to better times?
"tears of tented blood roll down my emotionless face"
tented? used as an adjective, this certainly makes no sense. i think you were reaching for a $5 word here and settled on it. however, even if used as an adverb [i'm sure this is the meaning you intended to but failed to implement], it is poor word choice.
"as my body is torn from the inside out, by the shadows of the unknown"
remove the comma. it's grammatically incorrect and disrupts flow.
"you have now takin all that was once treasured"
replace "takin" with "taken."
"i hope your happy"
replace "your" with "you're."
aside from being a weak conclusion, it conveys the sense that the speaker is, aside from being pathetic and downtrodden, a twat.
acclaim:
it's nice to see young people experiment with poetry.
however, i'm sure you can see that knowing english is pretty integral. work on it.
also, crappy gothic poetry is lame. please don't write any more of it.
if you are into this kind of stuff, however, you should realize that it's already been done far above and beyond your conceivable potential.
consider the classic work "Spleen" by Baudelaire. (from his recueil, "Les fleurs du mal.")
Quand le ciel bas et lourd p㨳e comme un couvercle
Sur l'esprit g㩭issant en proie aux longs ennuis,
Et que de l'horizon embrassant tout le cercle
Il nous verse un jour noir plus triste que les nuits ;
Quand la terre est chang㩥 en un cachot humide,
O㹠l'Esp㩲ance, comme une chauve-souris,
S'en va battant les murs de son aile timide
Et se cognant la t㪴e 㠠des plafonds pourris ;
Quand la pluie 㩴alant ses immenses tra㮮㩥s
D'une vaste prison imite les barreaux,
Et qu'un peuple muet d'inf㢭es araign㩥s
Vient tendre ses filets au fond de nos cerveaux,
Des cloches tout 㠠coup sautent avec furie
Et lancent vers le ciel un affreux hurlement,
Ainsi que des esprits errants et sans patrie
Qui se mettent 㠠geindre opini㢴rement.
- Et de longs corbillards, sans tambours ni musique,
D㩦ilent lentement dans mon 㢭e ; l'Espoir,
Vaincu, pleure, et l'Angoisse atroce, despotique,
Sur mon cr㢮e inclin㩠plante son drapeau noir.
find a translated version if you are not a french speaker.
you'd probably enjoy it if you had half a brain.