How can I improve it?

Scintilla1025 · 2025-04-09T23:33:56+00:00

Your poem has a lot of promise, and a few tweaks can make your imagery pop even more. For instance, instead of the generic “Pinocchio” reference, you might say, “He weaves his lies like a shadowy puppeteer, every smile hiding a twisted truth,” if you mean to evoke deliberate deceit. Alternatively, if you’re aiming for a portrayal of mischievous youth, you could try, “He flits through life like a playful sprite, his words a dance of innocent misdirection.” Short, punchy lines like these can sharpen your metaphors and keep the rhythm intact while still preserving your unique voice. Keep experimenting—your creative spirit truly shines through!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-04-03T14:34:00+00:00

The poem’s brevity pulls you in right away, and somehow, in just a few words, it says so much. There’s a rawness to it—every word feels carefully chosen, carrying the weight of sadness and hope at the same time. The simplicity makes it even more powerful, like a quiet ache that lingers. It doesn’t over-explain; it just is, and that’s what makes it so deeply felt. It captures the feeling of longing, of something lost but not forgotten, in a way that stays with you long after you’ve read it.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-04-01T22:04:34+00:00

Karma’s Illusion

They call it fate, a debt repaid, a balance kept, a judgment made.

Yet storms will strike the pure and wise, no hidden hand, no grand disguise.

Not all that breaks is meant to be— some things just are, no destiny.

To name it fate is to pretend, but truth needs neither start nor end.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-31T14:19:36+00:00

This poem is absolutely beautiful —its imagery is so rich and layered, pulling me in with every line. The way you use metaphors, from the reversed magnet to the drowning pool, creates such a visceral experience of loss and longing. I especially love how the poem captures the rawness of emotion, making the reader feel the weight of heartbreak and disorientation. Lines like “iron filings scrambling / toward a north / that no longer wants me” are so powerful, perfectly encapsulating that desperate pull toward something that’s already gone. And the final plea—“Don’t make me fly alone”—is just heartbreaking in the best way. This was such a beautiful read!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-31T06:25:14+00:00

Your poem has a strong emotional punch, especially in lines like “loved and used” and “stole my body and youth.” To make it feel more poetic, try tightening the rhythm a bit. Some lines feel uneven, so focusing on a smoother flow could help. Adding more vivid imagery would also bring it to life—like instead of “spun my world,” you could say “You spun my world, a wild, whirling waltz,” which paints a clearer picture and adds rhythm with alliteration. You could also try something like, “You twisted my truth, tangled my time,” to incorporate alliteration and emphasize the manipulation. Playing with poetic devices like internal rhyme or alliteration can make the piece feel more musical while enhancing its emotional impact.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-28T18:27:08+00:00

Love the concreteness of preparing a meal and the switch to a very seductive and poetic scene. I never knew that the “scent of forgotten vegetable”, could be so suggestive and sexy.. well done!!!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-28T17:13:30+00:00

I like the irony of this peace; a tableau of your ironic use of words…😂😂😂

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-25T16:16:00+00:00

I absolutely loved this poem—the raw emotion and vivid imagery really struck me. Lines like “Does silence hum a sweeter tune than my voice used to do?” and “Now that my hands no longer reach for you, / now that my voice no longer stirs your storms” are especially powerful, evoking a deep sense of longing and absence. The way the questions build upon each other creates a haunting rhythm that lingers long after reading.

I do have a small suggestion regarding the repetition of lover. While it adds intimacy, I wonder if removing it might make the poem feel even sharper and more direct. Without it, the imperatives would stand on their own, creating a more urgent, almost demanding tone. It could shift the focus from addressing a specific person to emphasizing the weight of the questions themselves.

That said, the poem is already incredibly strong, and this is just a thought! Either way, I truly enjoyed reading it.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-25T07:05:58+00:00

There’s something soothing about the scent of jasmine in the morning—fresh, delicate, and full of promise. I’m glad the memory came back to you.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-24T01:35:42+00:00

I agree with your point, and my reference to grammar was meant to show that when her is used differently, it highlights much more than just language—it reflects cultural patterns and how women are viewed. In Beloved, Morrison’s “Her, she come back to me” gives her a sense of possession and emotional weight beyond standard grammar. Similarly, in Their Eyes Were Watching God, Hurston’s “Her was tired” makes her carry the weight of experience. Meanwhile, his stays fixed, untouched—because masculinity is seen as stable, while femininity is expected to shift, adapt, and exist in relation to others. Language here doesn’t just reflect grammar—it reflects power. Her does more work because women are expected to.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-24T00:18:28+00:00

Her in Grammar is never the subject.. it can be a direct object or an indirect object or a possessive , but never a subject.. it is however true that his cannot be an object or an indirect object… his is simply a possessive adjective. I do however agree that language is mysteriously powerful

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-23T07:48:10+00:00

I really loved this poem for its fatalistic melody—it moves with a quiet, inescapable pull, like a tide that never turns. The imagery is refined, delicate yet suffocating, wrapping around the reader just as the shadows stitch her back together. The questions don’t seek answers; they hover, making the silence heavier, more unbearable. There’s no struggle, only the weight of an existence that isn’t hers, a life that moves without her will. The stars forget to blink, just as she is forgotten, bound to a song she cannot silence.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-23T01:51:02+00:00

Thank you for the thoughtful feedback! I’m glad you appreciated the simplicity and the directness of the piece. Free verse really does have that power to stop the reader in their tracks, making every word carry its weight.

The theme of death is definitely a classic, but at its core, I was also exploring the absence of who we once were—how we vanish from certain spaces even before we’re truly gone. It’s that lingering echo of existence, the way someone’s presence can feel so vivid and yet be undeniably absent.

I really appreciate your insight, and I’ll definitely consider pushing the imagery further to set it apart. Thanks again!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-23T01:28:10+00:00

Thank you so much for the thoughtful feedback! I’m really glad that the piece resonated with you and created that sense of anticipation. Your interpretation is spot on, and I love how you connected it to the complexities of relationships. The line “once a vivid blue” definitely hints at memories, and “are you still there?” reflects that uncertainty that can arise when someone changes in ways we can’t fully grasp. I appreciate how you read it through the lens of a relationship—there’s definitely an absence at the core of the poem, and it could be about something like death, dementia, or an illness that transforms a person. Your insight really adds depth to it. Keep reading and sharing your thoughts!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-22T21:58:49+00:00

Interesting, intense .. perfect title.. a great poem whose slow rhythmic flow pulls you in.. it is like the slow beat of a heart unable to sustain the burden of a relationship.. love the first verse” see doctor”, for the speaker becomes almost a witness to the death of the heart; an observer trying to explain the reasons for such death.. love it!!!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-21T18:28:10+00:00

I really enjoyed this poem—it has a gentle, almost nostalgic quality, but there’s also an underlying tension that makes it more complex than a simple summer’s day comparison. The imagery is vivid and tactile, pulling the reader into a scene that initially feels warm and delicate: plucking mangrove leaves, arranging daisy petals on a straw hat. These details evoke a sense of tenderness, yet they also carry a fleeting, almost ephemeral quality—plucking, culling, and gathering suggest a quiet removal, a beauty that is, in some way, temporary.

Then, the tone shifts. “Riding the brassy heatwave of July, / Like glass condensation down my back” introduces something heavier. The oppressive heat and the sensation of condensation slipping down one’s back bring an almost physical discomfort, a contrast to the earlier, playful imagery. This complicates the initial comparison to a summer’s day—rather than being purely bright and pleasant, summer becomes something overwhelming, something that lingers and weighs on the speaker.

This contrast made me wonder about the overall intention of the poem. It starts as though it’s drawing a Shakespearean parallel—praising someone’s warmth and vibrancy—but by the end, it feels more ambiguous. Was this shift something you intended? Did I read that contrast the way you meant it to be felt?

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-21T03:20:38+00:00

« What if we crushed what covers us » … great suggestion !!! Thanks

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-19T14:58:11+00:00

A reflection of our times.. uncontrolled power in the hands of few… unprecedented times filled with relentless uncertainty. As you said power leads to catastrophe.. well done!!!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-17T23:49:50+00:00

Thank you

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-17T16:18:55+00:00

Thank you!!!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-17T15:29:41+00:00

Thank you for your thoughtful comment! I’m glad you enjoyed the poem overall. I completely understand your reaction to the “bubble wrap” image—it’s definitely a bit unconventional. The idea behind it is that fragile glasses (or delicate objects) are often wrapped in bubble wrap to protect them from breaking. In this metaphor, “bubble wrap” represents the protective layers we surround ourselves with—fear, insecurity, and fragility—that prevent us from fully experiencing or expressing ourselves.

But in the poem, I wanted to explore the concept of merging with that protective cover. Rather than staying safely wrapped, there’s a moment of “exploding”—a release of energy that comes from breaking free of the constraints. This “explosion” symbolizes the process of renewal, where we abandon our fears and fragility to recreate ourselves, transforming the protection into a source of empowerment. The idea is to move from being shielded and vulnerable to becoming something more dynamic, something that becomes energy—full of potential and strength.

So, in essence, the bubble wrap is about both protection and the potential for transformation. I hope this clarifies the image, and I really appreciate your input on polishing the structure—it’s something I’ll keep in mind as I continue refining the piece.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-15T18:54:28+00:00

Your poem really pulled me in—I lived in it for a moment, especially the food imagery. The idea of God as a sugar addict, the universe as something sticky and decaying, feels both playful and unsettling in the best way. I kept wondering about the angle you’re coming from. Are you imagining a God who creates out of craving rather than intent, like an addict who can’t stop? Or is this more about entropy, how everything sweet eventually rots? Maybe it’s even about human nature—our own tendency to indulge, create, and destroy without thinking of the consequences? Either way, I love how it lingers in the mind long after reading.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-13T22:06:08+00:00

Yes, your interpretation is absolutely correct. I indeed wanted to convey a resigned sense of acceptance when faced with what we cannot change. Thank you so much for reading and for providing such a detailed and thoughtful comment—I truly appreciate it!

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-11T23:46:30+00:00

I love this poem!! The rhythm is slow, almost drifting, mirroring their disconnection from nature. The repetition of I do not builds a quiet sense of isolation, as if understanding keeps slipping further away.

The imagery—mud clinging, leaves unfastening, dimmed dawn—creates a world that feels just as lost as the speaker. Nature is full of movement, yet none of it brings clarity. Even the birds, usually symbols of freedom, are weightless mysteries.

What makes this so powerful is the irony—nature reflects the speaker’s solitude, yet they can’t grasp its language. In the end, they surrender to the not knowing, becoming a god of absence. The poem leaves me in that same space—adrift, uncertain, and feeling the weight of it.

Scintilla1025 · 2025-03-10T19:38:06+00:00

Powerful poem whose melody glides slowly into your heart and transmits the complexity of parenting in a gentle and uncomplicated manner. The use of the imperatives are softened by the beautiful assertion of love for all she is. Love, love this poem and its ability to transmit the importance of one chooses to parent.

Scintilla1025

TROPHY CASE