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Writing Purple Paint


wiccansamurai
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Okay, my last poetry thread was full of complete crap. So here's my first decent poem since someone smacked me in the head and [I]made[/I] me realise it was crap.

Purple Paint

Purple paint is smear?d on a window
Clear doorways lead to untold
Falling to cinders are soft leaves of sparkling gold,
A bird loses flight, and falls to the snow.
Of all the days she stepped blindly,
she chose this one to leap.
Now purple paint that is so intermittent, is so cheap.
But it hides it all so kindly,
Her intentions wrapped in it
Her windows so dark
She daren?t leave a single, insolent mark
On one she intended to hit

Doorways clear are simple
Concealing nothing, in an open book.
Inviting all to take an uncaring look.
Thinking they?re good example,
but empty rooms conjoined
have whitewashed walls of stale, bitter silk
The kind that deceive and bilk,
And have endlessly purloined.



Tell me what you think, wether you liked it or not.
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[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by wiccansamurai [/i]
Okay, my last poetry thread was full of complete crap. So here's my first decent poem since someone smacked me in the head and [I]made[/I] me realise it was crap.
[/quote][color=deeppink] Nothing written, despite the literary talent of the author, is ever crap, if it comes from the heart and soul. =)
[/color]
[quote]
Purple Paint

Purple paint is smear?d on a window
Clear doorways lead to untold
Falling to cinders are soft leaves of sparkling gold,
A bird loses flight, and falls to the snow.
Of all the days she stepped blindly,
she chose this one to leap.
Now purple paint that is so intermittent, is so cheap.
But it hides it all so kindly,
Her intentions wrapped in it
Her windows so dark
She daren?t leave a single, insolent mark
On one she intended to hit
[/quote]
[color=deeppink]
All that shimmers eventually fades away, all that glitters is not gold. Basically what this stanza is about. The mask that hid true intentions at first was so perfect, then slowly realizition came, of how cheap it really was. The purple paint was a poor substitute for the real thing.
[/color][quote]
Doorways clear are simple
Concealing nothing, in an open book.
Inviting all to take an uncaring look.
Thinking they?re good example,
but empty rooms conjoined
have whitewashed walls of stale, bitter silk
The kind that deceive and bilk,
And have endlessly purloined.
[/quote]
[color=deeppink]
The walls are truthful liars...at first appearing to be honest and open, but become a maze of confusion that leaves you not knowing where the reality is.
[/color][quote]
Tell me what you think, wether you liked it or not. [/QUOTE]
[color=deeppink]
I liked it. It was pretty good. =) You should try expanding on this, and pointing out messages a little clearer. Also, the last 4 lines, the rhyming seems odd and a little forced. The imagery of the billowing silk walls was very cool though. ^.~

-Karma
[/color]
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Yeah, I guess I figured out, that despite what I thought at first, this just wasn't finished so here's the last stanza, with the last part that I wrote to finish it.

Doorways clear are simple
Concealing nothing, in an open book.
Inviting all to take an uncaring look.
Thinking they?re good example,
but empty rooms conjoined
have whitewashed walls of stale, bitter silk
The kind that deceive and bilk,
And have endlessly purloined.
A smiling blackbird, soars through thin clouds.
The ones she fell into,
their inquisition, always asking "Who?"
but the truth, It always shrouds.
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[size=1] The beginning of the poem was quite shaky. You lead one way, then the other one, then stayed on "a bird loses flight, and falls in the snow."

The poem is really unfocused at the beginning, which makes it very hard to keep going as you read it. I'd definitely make the beginning flow better than it does, and give it some more narration. Make me [i]see[/i] this bird in those first few lines, because I don't see it in those first two lines too much, other than in "a bird loses flight and falls in the snow."

Over all, the poem doesn't hold together well, honestly. But I think it's [i]much[/i] better than what I read in the past; but that is not the point of poetry. The point of poetry isn't using big words and vague phrases like you have in this poem. It works in some poems and poet's hands, but at this point it seemed like you just made it as you went along (which is what I hope any poet does, so that necessarily isn't a bad thing), and that you didn't know where you were taking it even when you wrote it that first moment(s).

I actually like the older second stanza than this newer one. Again, what you added only makes it less focused to the point where it's as bad as the first stanza.

Don't be so vague and almost meaningless in what you say. You have to be obtuse if you want to, but at the same time, you need to say things in a beautifully poetic profound way. And this poem, honestly and as good of a first try as it is, doesn't accomplish this too well. I do see its meaning...but it itsn't amazingly profound, it isn't interesting. It doesn't spark my interest too much. And that is mainly because it just didn't hold together well at all.

I'm being honest. This is the way I am with critiques if I do them. And you asked me to say whether I like it or not, so I have.

It wasn't terrible. I've seen [i]far[/i] worse in this place. But you just need to work on description and making your symbolization much more keen and easily read. You basically need to find what of your writing voice you can. And doing that, especially as a poet, is hard. It changes so often. It never stays the same. It's something that will never be found, but can only be found in its parts.

I do think it's relatively good. But it nowhere thunders to the point of genius or anything other than a vague feeling of something.

My biggest gripe is that it just needs more description, some better narration. I read the words of this poem but they mean nothing to me--I can't even see too well what you are trying to say without reading it over and over again and forcing myself to understand the words.

Just keep writing. That's all you need to do. And maybe read too--reading is a thing which is important to the growth of a poet and a writer. Reading gives you a style to steal and implement as your own, it also stops the impedeing nothingness that you have for ideas and gives you some new ones.[/size]
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Thanks for your input. I will revise this one when the FRIGGIN EXAMS ARE OVER!!!!!! Sorry, I'm so stressed... I thought this seemed too.... broad. I guess I need to expand. As it was, I was dwelling on this for a few weeks, changing words around and the such. I'll have to ellaborate on the bird and everything. Again, thanks. I've been to the Megatokyo forums, so hard crituques don't bother me, lol.
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