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I liked the first stanza but i don't you should rhyme with Jell-O in the second stanza. I also love the line "To death's door i wave my hello", really powerful. The third stanza was a great way to end the poem.

My last post was towards Drowning.

Drowning
Cold, wet, and fear stricken,
Rasping mind, achey body,
Emotional trauma blocking
out all happy thoughts.
Arms flail rapidly to and fro,
Legs feel as if filled of Jell-O;
To Death's Door I wave my hello.
For suffocation is near,
All because I fell off the pier.

I really, really, really liked the first stanza. I don't think you should have tried to rhyme the last two.

i don't you should rhyme with Jell-O in the second stanza

The third stanza was a great way to end the poem.

Very well, the poem, for the most part, is well written. However some of the despriptions steal away the tone you are setting here. Furthermore, the light hearted overtone is a complete contradiction to the opening of the poem. While it may work at times, this time I felt like it slapped me in the face. I felt cheated in a way. Perhaps I enjoy tragedy too much, but, even so to start off with what seemed dark, only to turn it into a joke is a discredit to you as a writer and steals the emotion from the poem.

Yes, I was refering to the last two stanzas. Well at least the term jell-o and waving hello to death. The other line in the second stanza is fine

Well, I have edited and added more to the poem. Retains the dark image.



Drowning
Cold, wet, and fear stricken,
Rasping mind, achey body,
Emotional trauma blocking
out all happy thoughts.

Arms flail rapidly to and fro,
Legs feel heavy as lead.
To Death's Door I wave my hello.

For suffocation is near,
I keep on sinking deeper.
The light dims out,
I See no more.
I close my eyes tightly shut.
The dark has me chilled to the core.

My heart keep thumping, thumping.
Suddenly it stops, I've felt my last pulse.

That was epic. It's probably one of the best you've written.

While i love the edit much more i thought you should have kept
"For suffocation is near,
All because I fell off the pier."

Swapped out the pier with an approximate rhyme to keep the mood going. I will make up for it sometime (poem about piers? hm I don't know)...

Next is a shorter poem:

Forgotten Whisper
Once muttered, once spoken
But now man has forgotten-
All that remains of the whisper
Is what the trees shiver;
The branches swaying, beckoning.

The words are now lost,
But linger in the Forest
Echoing, never to be forgotten.

Quickly worte this one for the First Line Poetry:

Ended Crisis

The crisis has ended,
Our goal we sought
Is now in our arms.

No more pain, no more suffering
For some cause that has us all
Interwoven in each others' fate.

Hazy, lost eyes no more.
The bombshells buried under
The dust of destruction.
I wave farewell to the insanity;
The crisis has ended.

Worn Bench
Cold, worn, and alone;
Sitting there in the middle
Of the night, waiting.

Through rain it sits,
Bones soaked, shivering.

Through snow it lasts,
Bones frozen, crackling.

'Till at last it is sunny,
And then it finds company,
Seeking a place to rest
Their aching, worn bodies.

The Sun, a Savior
Bright in the middle of the day,
Heat surging to the ground;
Warming up our weary souls.

Smiles down upon us, like a
Child riding his bike with no
Training wheels to guide him.

Banishes the cold and fear,
Back to whence they came.

Reassures us with a kindly grin
When we seem to have lost all hope.

Each and every day it shares
Its warm smile with us,
Forever, until the end.

I wrote this for the 10 day poetry contest, and since i liked it so much, I am going to post it in my poetry thread, hope you enjoy!

The Tale of the Hunter
The Tale of the Hunter
He lays stiff and sound;
Fallen to the evil ways.
No heartbeat, no blinks;
He is hone, gone forever.

In his glazed eyes his tale
Etched in vivid horror lingers,
Grasping, crying, for help:

Siting under the shade of a willow,
Crafting arrows, polishing a grand bow.
Prized knife shaping pitiful wood
Into slender, lethal killers.

Dusk sets in, sun dies out;
the Forest becomes silent
Except for the melodious chirps
Of the crickets, singing their song.

There is an eerie shift in the brush.
A dark figure leaps into the night,
Then cold iron meets warm flesh.

Agonizing in pain, crying woeful yelps;
His soul drifts away, the look of pain
Stained into his eyes; forever to retell
The Hunters mournful tale.