Musing of a Voice
 

I wrote a lot of poetry at a different forum I was at so I figure I might give a shot at sharing some of my work with you all. The ones here are old, but I thought they were OK.

A gentle voice above the breeze
A willow in the poppet trees
The songbird sings a song for me
Bittersweet and cold
Lament upon the love once held
Upon my thinning arms once dwelled
Then he, his love from me expelled
My heart grew faint and old
To see a loved one perish away
The night to never pass to day
Emotions in a disarray
Like rain upon the grass
We all live and learn
Our vigors, burn
Only to turn
To die at last
Songbird
Sing a song for me
A song of grief
humanity
A song of death
An elegy
Of everything I feel
Songbird
Sing this song for me
A reqeium I'll write for thee
If choose, you do, to pass away
At you fallen perch I'll pray
Songbird
You were always there for me
To sing of hate, of jelousy
Of everything I'd ever see
Songbird
Please don't stop this song
The sunrise short and winter long
But don't lose hope and be like me
A frozen lifeless entity
Learn to love and learn to fly
Away from things that make you cry
No more tears would brim from my eyes
If only I had been more wise
Songbird, songbird
Sing along
Hold your head high and hold it strong
Stray to right and ne're to wrong
Songbird
You're my friend
Indeed

-------------

I waited for you
Near a streetlight, down Hollywood Way
And I knew you weren't coming
But I slept my night there anyways
When I woke up
The bar was still closed
So I took a walk
In my wrinkled wet clothes
And all the men asked
What's a girl like you doing around here
So I came into their house
And had a few beers
But I didn't stay long
I left right away
The wind was damn cold
But the whiskey's OK
I stumbled like a dream
And the snow was like cloud
I stumbled into a bar
Where the music played loud
It was Christmas Day
When there's nobody around
They're all with their families
They've all been found
And I ordered a bottle
And two or three shots
I had some gin and some Scotch
Straight, without the rocks
Because when I stop the drinking
The pain just comes back
The liquor fills me up
In the place where my soul lacks
And the man next to me
Asked for a one night stand
He was handsome and heavy
And he smiled and touched my hand
But I told him no
There's somebody for me
He just isn't in town yet
But later you'll see
He loves me more than anything
He'll buy me rose of red
And then I'll feel alive again
Unlike drunken and dead
We'll marry and start a family
And get out of this dark town
We'll be happy together
He'll always be around
I left the bar at closing
I heard the dogs bark
I crept into the alley
And the lighting was dark
The cardboard didn't do much
But it kept away the wind
The cold bit at my barren legs
More that beer or wine or gin
The snow was falling lightly
I swear I heard angels cry
And I looked up to the heavens
And up into the sky
I never woke up after that
You probably don't know
But I'm still sleeping soundly
On my frozen bed of snow

---------

I wrote a song for you
We were but eighteen
Side by side, each other
Deep in the old ravine
Love was the word I thought of
Yet didn't know what it'd mean
I wrote a song
I wrote a song

I wrote a song for you
You were twenty-three
Tears poured from your stained-glass eyes
As you talked to me
In the dark I held you
Your head upon my knee
I wrote a song
I wrote a song

I wrote a song for you
You were twenty-eight
You pierced my heart and left me
Swallowed in pain too great
Yet I stayed right where I was
Writing still, I'd wait
I wrote a song
I wrote a song

I wrote a song for you
When back to me you came
Your face was bruised and battered
Your clothing ripped and stained
I'll hold you here forever
To take away that pain
I wrote a song
I wrote a song

I wrote a song for you
Though now you are gone
Your blameless death and suffering
Proved me to be wrong
I'll think of you forever
Though it my pain prolongs
And I'll still write a song
I'll write a song

I actually really like the pacing of the first piece. That's how I tend to write a lot of my lyrics. I'm not exactly sure what the term for that structure is, where the first three lines all rhyme and every fourth line rhymes. Triplets? I don't know.

The second one is pretty good as well. My only complaint was the one or two entire "stanzas" (I mean every four lines, considering it's not actually broken up into stanzas) that were focused on describing the alcohol that was being consumed. It almost makes the narrative seem more like a drunken frat excursion moreso than a tragic alcoholic binge. By specifying the types of alcohol like that (beer, whiskey, scotch, shots) it makes the narrative seem more like an alcoholic conquest (dude, I did 3 shots of Jager, a beer bong, 2 shots of Jack, it ruled). I'd say thin out those areas a bit more. Just hint at the fact that there is alcohol being consumed. A truly desperate alcoholic probably wouldn't care what she's drinking an hour before she willingly freezes to death.

The third one is probably my least favorite, if only because the pacing feels really weird. I can't put my finger on it, but it just doesn't feel right. You actually have written music for that last piece, haven't you? If so, then that would explain the odd structure. I'd need to hear the complete song in order to grasp it. My only honest criticism is the second-to-last stanza. In the previous three, you indicated the age of the subject, and in the fourth one, it feels as though age should be indicated there as well because it's still a progression of the story. The fifth stanza doesn't require that because it's the conclusion. Although, I could be entirely wrong in this observation as well if there is actual music to accompany it.

Very good stuff. I eagerly anticipate more.

Thank you very much for your criticism Raziel. This is exactly what I'm looking for, someone who can comment on ways I can improve my writing and elaborating on how to do it, rather than a simple "OMG good!!!11" or "OMG teh suck!!!11!" I'll keep your input in mind :)

It matters not whether you win or lose; what matters is whether I win or lose.

The hell? My point was that usually when I ask other people for opinions on my work, they don't give me anything I can work with, and this is not specific to this thread or forum. It's hard for an artist to find other artists to critique their work, and it's refreshing to find that here at Zelaron.

If you aren't going to give me any criticism I can work with about the poems I posted, please don't bother posting here.

Not a problem, Neko. It's nice to see someone actually respond positively to constructive criticism instead of assuming I'm attacking them.

Postcard bitter.
A leather bag in hand.
No one to love anymore.
Hollow-hearted in my bonecage.
Eyes a hazel empty ocean.
Postcard bitter.
Voice as raw as harmonica.
Blowing through the empty air.
Blue coat floating like a scissored cloud.
At my feet like ragweed.
Postcard bitter.
It's like raining in the desert.
To wait for your heartstrings.
Like blind David and dwarf Goliath.
Fighting, but not going anywhere.
Postcard bitter.
I'll drop it at your feet as I leave.
Face obscured by silk grass.
My mahogony lengths of hair.
My strife-sickened bitter face.
Postcard bitter.
Maybe you'll remember me.
On a day when you feel dead inside.
Like the way I was at your feet.
Like a servant for Prince John's mercy.
Rusty metal on my chipped fingernails.
Playing a song.
Postcard bitter.
Deaf by youth, death by shallowness.
Deep as a river of tear in a desert.
The kind of deep you can't see.
Not yet.
Postcard bitter.
See you later.