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| Topic: Ajar | |
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Ajar
She wasn’t sure if it was a glimmer of light or if darkness was closing in If by chance he would turn around or if she lost not only her lover but her best friend The door was ajar an opening perhaps maybe he would remember the part them that was beautiful maybe she would breathe again Or was it closing was the last vestige of hope fading and that their years were nothing but a culmination of her fears maybe this was how it was supposed to end |
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..I like this, can so relate..
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Edited by
ZPicante
on
Sun 08/04/13 10:55 PM
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This is the best poem written on this site. Period.
It's abstract, but evocative. Subtle, but clear. The image of a door as a metaphor for possibilities is terribly cliche, but it is given a new face here. This not in comparison to the great Romantic poets--Browning, Keats, Longfellow, Poe, etc.--but compared to the whole of mingle, that's a pretty accurate assessment. The only line I *really* don't like is "maybe she would breathe again." I think if you got rid of it completely the poem would be greatly improved; that line completely broke the momentum and mood of the rest of the poem. It's also trite and meaningless and everyone says they can't breathe to be dramatic. Everything else was pretty okay. |
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This is the best poem written on this site. Period. It's abstract, but evocative. Subtle, but clear. The image of a door as a metaphor for possibilities is terribly cliche, but it is given a new face here. This not in comparison to the great Romantic poets--Browning, Keats, Longfellow, Poe, etc.--but compared to the whole of mingle, that's a pretty accurate assessment. The only line I *really* don't like is "maybe she would breathe again." I think if you got rid of it completely the poem would be greatly improved; that line completely broke the momentum and mood of the rest of the poem. It's also trite and meaningless and everyone says they can't breathe to be dramatic. Everything else was pretty okay. Appreciate the compliment and critique . . . especially the critique. I'll rewrite it without that a line and see how it reads |
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Very good just the way it stands.... for at times we all at the end feel as if we can finally breath again and the weight has been lifted........
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Lovely just as it is
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This left me in layers, folds where my emotions were almost...yet there, fading in and out.
Just breathtaking... |
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Beautifully written and something we can all relate to.
Well done! 
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Edited by
ZPicante
on
Wed 08/07/13 02:15 AM
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And yet... none of you said anything until I commented. Interesting.
Guess why that is? None of you can recognize a decent poem when you see one. I have suffered reading some of the poems posted here, and let me tell you, no Keats, no Brownings, no Eliots reside here. The closest to those I've seen here is the gentleman in question. And, no, his poem would be much improved *without* that line for the reasons I stated. Sorry, poetry--real poetry--isn't just a bunch of emotional fluff. It's structure. It's imagery. It's art. Real poetry might actually take time and be somewhat difficult, even unpleasant, to write; it might actually force you to think (gasp!) and write and re-rewrite, then write again, your thoughts. Some poems take years to write. The ones that take less than years, less than weeks, must come from an exceptionally gifted mind. Guess how many people meet that qualification? Harsh? Well, reality often is. |
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And yet... none of you said anything until I commented. Interesting. Guess why that is? None of you can recognize a decent poem when you see one. I have suffered reading some of the poems posted here, and let me tell you, no Keats, no Brownings, no Eliots reside here. The closest to those I've seen here is the gentleman in question. And, no, his poem would be much improved *without* that line for the reasons I stated. Sorry, poetry--real poetry--isn't just a bunch of emotional fluff. It's structure. It's imagery. It's art. Real poetry might actually take time and be somewhat difficult, even unpleasant, to write; it might actually force you to think (gasp!) and write and re-rewrite, then write again, your thoughts. Some poems take years to write. The ones that take less than years, less than weeks, must come from an exceptionally gifted mind. Guess how many people meet that qualification? Harsh? Well, reality often is. 
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And yet... none of you said anything until I commented. Interesting. Guess why that is? None of you can recognize a decent poem when you see one. I have suffered reading some of the poems posted here, and let me tell you, no Keats, no Brownings, no Eliots reside here. The closest to those I've seen here is the gentleman in question. And, no, his poem would be much improved *without* that line for the reasons I stated. Sorry, poetry--real poetry--isn't just a bunch of emotional fluff. It's structure. It's imagery. It's art. Real poetry might actually take time and be somewhat difficult, even unpleasant, to write; it might actually force you to think (gasp!) and write and re-rewrite, then write again, your thoughts. Some poems take years to write. The ones that take less than years, less than weeks, must come from an exceptionally gifted mind. Guess how many people meet that qualification? Harsh? Well, reality often is. |
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And yet... none of you said anything until I commented. Interesting. Guess why that is? None of you can recognize a decent poem when you see one. I have suffered reading some of the poems posted here, and let me tell you, no Keats, no Brownings, no Eliots reside here. The closest to those I've seen here is the gentleman in question. And, no, his poem would be much improved *without* that line for the reasons I stated. Sorry, poetry--real poetry--isn't just a bunch of emotional fluff. It's structure. It's imagery. It's art. Real poetry might actually take time and be somewhat difficult, even unpleasant, to write; it might actually force you to think (gasp!) and write and re-rewrite, then write again, your thoughts. Some poems take years to write. The ones that take less than years, less than weeks, must come from an exceptionally gifted mind. Guess how many people meet that qualification? Harsh? Well, reality often is. Thanks pkh |
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wonderful write as always Mig
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And yet... none of you said anything until I commented. Interesting. Guess why that is? None of you can recognize a decent poem when you see one. I have suffered reading some of the poems posted here, and let me tell you, no Keats, no Brownings, no Eliots reside here. The closest to those I've seen here is the gentleman in question. And, no, his poem would be much improved *without* that line for the reasons I stated. Sorry, poetry--real poetry--isn't just a bunch of emotional fluff. It's structure. It's imagery. It's art. Real poetry might actually take time and be somewhat difficult, even unpleasant, to write; it might actually force you to think (gasp!) and write and re-rewrite, then write again, your thoughts. Some poems take years to write. The ones that take less than years, less than weeks, must come from an exceptionally gifted mind. Guess how many people meet that qualification? Harsh? Well, reality often is. this is exactly the kind of attitude that confines a creative mind. expand your world. expand YOUR reality. ;) mig -- been a fan since day one, and still..
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bas, penny, ainjel, and everyone . . . wow, I feel so much love for my work.
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