poetry critical

online poetry workshop

inner child knowing

naked again
nature bathing to sleep the lack thereof
heart crack opens
shedding acid flakes
detaching hereon
no more wounds hideous

10 Sep 18

Rated 7.5 (7.5) by 2 users.
Active (2): 5
Inactive (0):

(define the words in this poem)
(64 more poems by this author)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha


This does not make sense. If you are serious in learning about poetry you will need to read a lot of it (I can tell that you do not at the moment).
You will also need to look up (online) what elements make up poetry. there is a lot of info out there. also look up, the difference between "tell" and "show."

Good luck.
 — unknown

Agreed with Cadmium this struggles for making sense
 — unknown

that's not my comment. it totally makes sense to me. i'm a poet. stop trying to be clever. you don't do it well.

'naked' in the obvious and also mental sense. naked allows us to show our body, to show what we really are. our heart is open to the reader. that's what naked means here.

the heart cracks open -- this is expressionism: the word sound and even the word itself crush the phrase into poetry. the important thing is to show what feeling is, to create an emotion out of our feelings in order to just live at all. creativity is life. poets create life.

the heart dissolves, we watch it disintegrate -- what's disintegrating is the ability to hurt anymore, to feel hurt. all is dissolved, all is made pure and, worthless, because he doesn't love you.

concepts like 'tell and show' are specific to the actual poem. so, some poems do only tell, and their life and energy is in the sound and form of the words themselves. some other poems hint at a reality and then hint again with another reality. the two realities are like our conscious inner life and outer observation, outer sensual world.

my name is 'cadmium', with a small 'c'. i'm not just out of middle-school. and, really, my name is 'mike'. you can call me 'mike'.

i don't ever post as an unknown. pretending unknown is safe is infantile, as though you couldn't see my soul by looking at my poem or comment. 'soul' is the only reality in poetry and here in poetry critical. and, as far as i'm concerned any unknown could be any other unknown. are you the unknown who called me a worthless queer? i'm not worthless... ::
 — cadmium

either these commentators have never been in love, or they don't know the english language well enough to read poetry. i think they've never been in love.
 — cadmium