Want Feedback?
We could all benefit from a little feedback
on our works-in-progress. If you would like honest reactions to your work and suggestions for revision from the Creative Writing class or from Imagery members, paste your original piece in the comment box and see what develops.
Writers, let us know what bothers you in the piece. Problems? What specific passages would you like us to consider?
Responders, point out memorable wording, phrases, passages and ask specific questions. If the piece were yours, what would you do to strengthen it? Remember, be thoughtful and honest.
September 24th, 2008 at 6:51 pm
These hands
These hands that I see everyday,
Make me happy when I’m sad,
And comfort me when I need it.
When I see these hands,
They are large…
My fists are always engulfed by them.
Roughly tender…
As cliché as it seems…
They’re full of love,
And full of hate.
Cut, bruised, scarred,
The memories of the past
Are never easily forgotten.
I can feel those hands
Run through my hair,
And carry me
When I can’t walk.
These hands that I see
Are aged,
Indeed,
But young,
Never the less
In the heart
Of their beholder.
Darken skin,
With blue veins to see…
They’ve been here with me
All the way.
In sickness
And
In health…
Even in past memories
I can see…
Those hands that hold mine gently,
That teach me how to be myself…
The hands that protect me,
And are afraid to let me go…
Even now.
These hands…
Will be with me,
Even when they wither away.
When I stumble,
And when I fall
And when I walk the isle…
Those hands that love me kind,
And love me tenderly,
Will always be there next to me.
Even when I feel they’re gone.
Those bone worked hands…
Those callused hands…
Those roughly gentle hands…
The hands of my father.
September 25th, 2008 at 1:55 pm
For Paige Ha: This reminds me of my grandfather, a lot. It made me tear up. The part, “They are large… My fists are always engulfed by them.” is my favorite.
September 25th, 2008 at 1:56 pm
Pure
You’re sitting on a
fluffy
white
cloud
near the most
beautiful
island you have ever seen.
Air
thick with humidity
seeps into your taste buds,
sugary like
ice
cream
but warm.
Smell the nights rain,
hear the wind through the trees,
feel the silk on your skin.
You are in
serenity.
*I’m not sure about the title.
September 25th, 2008 at 2:04 pm
For Paige Ha: I thought the poem was amazing. When you read it out loud in class, you made me feel the bond between you and your father. You told such a strong story and let the class feel how much your father meant to you. It is truly a deep hearted work of art and I think your father will appreciate it.
September 26th, 2008 at 2:33 pm
Returning to the Garden
My grove of serenity…
The white flowers shine
Through the darkness of my wayward heart
A lone tree stands,
The perfect metaphor
Crumbled twigs and shattered leaves
Closely mirror shattered dreams
But offer comfort
In knowing that in death,
They are still together
Released from pain and panic
No longer corrupted by the Vice of Man,
Embraced by the Virtues of the universe
The ethereal energy of all being
Cries wordlessly
Through this forest of tranquility
And the mighty oak,
The deepest skies
They could never make me feel small,
Not when the world’s injustice
Requires, of all of us, a mighty hero
Someone to quench
The flames of crimson hatred
Someone to rust the blade of War
Someone to lead us
To pools of enlightenment,
Someone to exalt humanity
To its highest plateau
In this world of darkness and bigotry,
There is no time for ineptitude
There is, in all the disharmony of the modern world,
No room for doubt
No room for fear
And as I stand in my peaceful grove,
The winds call my name
They whisper all the secrets of the universe
And I euphorically whisper back,
Praising the Goddess
For the blessings of this life
And I know, when my time has come to die,
When I have spent my life fighting,
When I have given everything besides given up,
I will be content in knowing
That in the end,
I will return to the peace of the Garden.
September 26th, 2008 at 2:36 pm
For Paige Ha: I really enjoyed your poem. I think the duality of your poem in describing your father’s hands as full of love as well as hate was very creative. Showing the beauty of your father despite the imperfections is a classic and admirable theme. Very nice work
For Haley: Very good imagery. I could taste clouds on my tongue, sugary and airy, and very relaxed. Nice job. (Good title though. I don’t see much need for change, though if you did, maybe something like ‘Bliss’?)
September 28th, 2008 at 5:08 pm
Paige H’s poem painted a bright picture into my head of the relationship between her and her father. I could just tell how close they are together. Sometimes we forget the simple things in life that really matter and I just wanna say thanks to Paige for making me realize that right now.
September 29th, 2008 at 1:50 pm
If Only…
What if
There was a world in which
Hatred reigned supreme?
Where bigotry was the standard
And brotherhood was the exception?
Where oppression claimed the hearts
Of everyone it touched?
What if
There was a world in which
Progress was slowed by collective falsities?
Where discovery was blatantly halted
And ideas were restrained?
Where we were too afraid to accept the idea
That everyone is beautiful?
What if
There was a world in which
Human compassion was a myth?
Where love and peace were considered archaic
And violence was an honored tradition?
Where Hatred,
Anger
Violence
Disdain
Crime
Repression
Corruption
Apathy
Sorrow
Fear
Ruled the lives of everyone?
The truth is…from where we’re headed,
That world doesn’t look too fictitious
Our paths lead down a frightening road
And we perpetuate the vicious cycle
By passing down evil doctrines
Down to the next generation
But let me ask another question…
What if
There was a world in which
We lived out the dream of all humanity?
Living in perfect serenity,
No war
No hate
No violence
Discovering the mysteries of this Beautiful world
Together, hand in hand, as brethren
What if
There was a world in which
There was nothing left to fight for?
We immediately gave
Our trust
Compassion
Freedom
And the freest form of love
Without having to fight for it?
Without struggle?
Embracing the unending beauty of the Universe
Without any form of conflict…
The truth is
I’d be kind of bored.
But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.
What if
Every day was sensation?
If we embraced the endless beauty Surrounding us
The universe,
Our precious world,
And most importantly, each other
Surrounding ourselves
With the truest beauty of love
And our Mother God
Then we could truly bring
Heaven to Earth
Make this life a glistening Paradise…
Oh, if only…
September 29th, 2008 at 2:19 pm
Kyle C’s poem(s): Kyle you always write these wonderful poems, but…I feel as if I can’t really understand them with all the fancy word play. I’ll admit…sometimes I don’t know what you’re talking about in your poems.
September 29th, 2008 at 2:33 pm
for Haley S.
I like the idea of this poem. My favorite part was,
“Air
thick with humidity
seeps into your taste buds.”
If this was my poem, the only thing I would change is my description of the clouds because ‘fluffy’ is a little cliche and overused.
What is so beautiful about the island that it makes you feel serene?
For condensing: Do you need ‘you are in’ before the word serenity?
Again, very nice poem.
September 29th, 2008 at 2:34 pm
Fireflies interweave
Between red embers
Left to right
Right to left
In a desperate chase
To reach their
Destination first
While glazed
Unseeing
Luminous eyes
Bedecked with
Golden-rod beads
Pass indifferently
Trudging along
On their own
Concrete path
*I really need a title for this*
September 30th, 2008 at 2:22 pm
Haley:
I really like it actually.
I really get a sense of it. If it were mine, I’d do a little more with “You are in serenity.” It seems a little bland compared to the rest of the poem.
But I really like it other than that.
=D
October 1st, 2008 at 2:15 pm
For Mary G: Your poem was pretty good. I liked the rhythym of imagining the so-called ‘fireflies’ dancing. Also, words like ‘interweaved’ and phrases like ‘bedecked with goldenrod beads’ paint a nice picture. I’m not 100% sure if you need the ‘unseeing’ part when describing the ‘eyes’, but I can see where you’re going with it. Maybe you could take it a little further? As for the title, my first thought is something like ‘Wayfarer’ to help with the idea of traveling, but you could also play with the metaphor of the fireflies and some variation of that. Experiment and have fun! Good work, though.
October 1st, 2008 at 2:15 pm
The Negative Realms of Being (Death)
Where is the dream I once called reality?
Dangled before my eyes, like a pendulum
Tick, tick, tick
This realm of darkness
Has no birds; there are no blue skies
Only the darkest sky below, around, and within
Working its magic within a new domain
Consumes me, though it has no mouth
Burns me, though there is no warmth
Oblivion calls my name wordlessly with disdain
This scornful darkness annihilates my body
Strikes relentlessly with its contempt for life
Creating paradoxical disbelief
Caressing me with the silken kiss of breathless air
Singing the disharmony of its spite, and sounds so surreal
Unlike the night of reality…
Ah, to remember! The crispness of the air!
The moon, the stars…
This night has no stars, no moon
Entering through my mouth,
Leaves the taste of cruelty on my tongue
Yet I can taste it only in memory…
I only have the dream of a body…
I only have a vision of what life was like
In the splendor of its vastness
Is this darkness a nightmare I cannot see?
With no heart, I agonize
With no body, I struggle
With no eyes, I cry cold tears
With no mouth, I argue
Struggle as I may to see the world again,
My actions are vain
For the words have as much a sound
As these tears have warmth upon my cheek
For I know I can never be released from this pain
Not even in the solitude of Death…
November 15th, 2008 at 3:15 pm
To Love One’s Self
In my struggle with myself,
There is no poetry
In my quest to understand,
There is vanity
In my ordeal of decadence,
There is no beauty.
In my search for transcendence,
There is mockery
This countenance I bear,
This visage that I wear,
Hides helplessness beyond repair
A parody of man,
Claiming greater pain
Where I grant the world my love,
I give myself disdain
Why, then, do I seek glory,
If man would soon forget?
For what cause am I exalted,
If they never comprehend?
Can wings grant me ascension
If their plumes will burn to ash?
Where revelation beckons me
Will I have the power to oblige?
This countenance I bear,
This visage that I wear,
Is but a mask that cloaks despair
A parody of man,
Claiming greater pain
Where I grant the world my love,
I give myself disdain
I will never be a sainted hero,
For a darkness fills my veins:
The perversion of my vanity,
The filth of its refrain
The causes of my servitude
Are traced to my ineptitude
Leaving me ashamed
Ambition deep inside of me
Will yield inside to vanity
Leaves myself to blame…
This world demands a hero,
To cast away its chains
A champion of rectitude
Who cannot be restrained
This countenance I bear,
This visage that I wear
A pale façade beyond compare
A parody of man
Claiming greater pain
Where I grant the world my love,
I give myself disdain
This world, it lacks a hero
While cities writhe in flames
Somehow, I hear it calling,
The message it contains:
“You can’t afford your servitude
No room left for ineptitude
You have no other choice
Cast away insanity
Be freed from what was vanity
In redemption, now, rejoice!”
This doubtfulness impaired,
My fortitude repaired,
Released from dark in which I was ensnared
Where hate will pressure onwards,
I will make its efforts vain
I have learnt to love myself
And rise above my pain
I know I am the hero,
Who shall cast away the chains
The one to ride on wings of dreams
And free humanity of pain
I shall raze those left to servitude,
And shatter all ineptitude
I will cry my heart’s refrain:
This love that burns inside of me
Stretches on for all infinity
I am bereft of my disdain