/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.9094690]

I didn't see a rate/feedback thread in the catalog, so I thought I'd start one. Feel free to share your own

I'd really like feedback on this poem. It feels disjointed probably because I'm not a big fan of "I" and "He/She" poems but this definitely feels like one.

Stained Glass

This piece of art can take ages to create
the wondrous piece of glass that is our hearts.
Yet, like fools we treat it carelessly.
Throwing it around with rash abandon,
lending it those who’ll toy with it,
until cracks and creaks.

Until it shatters.

But what are we to do but move on,
trying once again to give those
shattered pieces away.
And yet all those jagged shards
can now only maim,
and those not sharp enough
to pierce the skin, can only be stolen.

The true sorrow remains however,
with the one that resolved to fix it.
He who refused to run away,
with cuts along his back,
and ragged glass stuck within their neck.
He, who gathered pieces,
and glued them back together,
like a little puzzle,
longing to the see the fin
filling in the missing seams
with slivers from his own precious heart.

No longer will your heart hurt others,
but it will awe, inspire and captivate.
No longer will your heart be given,
now only to sold, won, and fought over.

And what to glazier, who’s left bleeding?
The gentle artist who’s given the time,
the true pragmatist lending his unending effort,
the angel able to bear your unbearable pain.
How could you ever repay him?

With a swift kick.
For how will a master create
his next masterpiece without more pieces
to build with?

[Anonymous No.9094693]

We like
to tell ourselves
“I am the brightest star in the sky”
stop
a supernova
will take the sky
with it.

[Anonymous No.9094740]

Don't let this die please

“It’s not you, it’s ….”

It was always me.
Because you lack ability
to look in a mirror,
and my placid surface
was reflective enough

It was always me.
Because when you asked me
“what do you love about me”
“I don’t know, I just do”
wasn’t enough for you
It was always me.
Because when you told me
“you lack empathy”
you wouldn’t listen to the echo
that bouncing off my bent
and broken body

It was always me
because when you now
hear my name
images of demons
dance in your thoughts
while the mere mention of yours
can only brings the
sting of bitter joy

It was always me
because when I told you
“I love you”
you didn’t believe it

It was always me.
Because when you told me
“I love you”
I believed it

[Anonymous No.9094776]

Just a quick critique since I'm on my phone but try getting rid of everything before the "true sorrow" line and changing it from there to make sense. If you insist on keeping those other stanzas make it an image poem since you seem to have one foot stuck in describing stained glass and the other stick in describing you're own thoughts on glass and thus we get a really vague poem that only makes my eyes roll.

Additionally. Go into more details. You use so many adjectives throughout your poem,"Ragged glass" and "jagged shards" are examples, when it would be better to describe what exactly is your idea of jagged and ragged.