Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Tackeh's 10,000 Etchings
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I decided I'd try and post some of my poems on here, since I liked the first line poem thread so much. I would really like some advice on how to improve. Thanks!
- 718 Replies
What the heck....
*We're
There's
"Oh,....important!"
I'm
Don't
What's
can't
wouldn't
Not a bad story. Seems kinda depressing actually. I'll continue reading to see were you're heading. Actually looks quite interesting.
The only problem is that you didn't describe the setting much. We know nothing about the character, he/she's background and he/she's problems. So we can't relate to the reasons why he/she wants to perform suicide. Just wanting to kill yourself for having no purpose is sort off pointless.
But if we know that for example he/she comes from a broken family, has problems in school and things like that we can relate to them and here reasons for suicide makes much more sense.
But of course his is only part 1 and you're gonna surely explain the setting more in the other parts.
So yea it sucks.
Just stating what I think. If You don't like it don't post to critique on the OP, but tell people to only say good things about your poems. By the way most poems I read here suck
I would appreciate the "criticism" more if you actually told me how I could improve and why exactly they suck. Are the phrasings off? Did I rhyme incorrectly?
Oh and that last poem looks copied.
I can assure you it is not. Do you have any basis for your accusation?
Go and read some poems that are good; take the best you can from it and try to get better.
That's not really advice. Which poems would you consider 'good'?
So yea it sucks.
Just stating what I think.
Saying that it's bad without reasons makes your posts inane. Actually, they are.
Go and read some poems that are good
You obviously know absolutely nothing about poetry whatsoever and your advise is void. Her poetry is much better than what your simple mind could ever come up with.
And her poems are good. If you can't see that, then you are blind.
Oh and last poem looks copied.
First of all, it's not a poem. Obviously you cannot read correctly. It's a story.
You're senseless if you believe that. She probably wrote it up in Microsoft word then copied and pasted it onto here. Unless you have solid proof of it being copied, then don't post that garbage.
It's obvious that your intentions here are to troll by saying that her poetry is bad because she commented on your page about not spamming on her profile anymore and you're trying to get back at her by thrashing her poetry.
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Tacky, I would suggest that you write it up in notepad next time so that the weird symbols don't come up. I've had it happened to me before.
I've been reading through this thread for quite a while now. Keep up the good work, Tacky.
If You don't like it don't post to critique on the OP, but tell people to only say good things about your poems. By the way most poems I read here suck
Sorry for the double post, but I had to say something about this...When did I say I didn't like criticism? If you had read back a few pages, then you would have seen that I have accepted numerous intelligent criticisms, and tried to improve. And if you don't like any of the poetry, then why go to the AMW Forum in the first place?
"Yes?" I ask impatiently. His eyes move to the bottle in my hand, and the grin slides off his face, replaced by one of worry. I find myself growing angry at this little boy, this kid who dared poke his way into my life. Worried? About what?
After surviving my glare for a few seconds, he clears his throat, looking fidgety and nervous. I hate fidgety and nervous people. "Wellâ¦We're moving in next door, and I wanted to get to know the neighborsâ¦" Gulp.
"And you decided to look into my bedroom window?" I know Iâm being cruel--he canât be more than 10-- but heâs irritating me with his hesitating tone.
"I didn'tâ¦I didn't meanâ¦." Heâs looking more panic-y by the second, wringing his hands and trembling. I know I'm an imposing figure, tall for my age (and gender, for that matter), and you can see that in his eyes. We stand there for a few seconds more, never breaking eye contact. Suddenly, he calms down, much to my surprise.
"I would like to apologize for my behavior" he says, with nary a quiver in his voice. Then he turns sharply around and walks away, back rigid and straight.
"Apology accepted" I shout after him. Yeah, right. The little twerp.
This is driving me crazy....
The weird symbols after 'Well','neighbors','didn't','mean' are supposed to be "...."
I assume you write in Word? Replace every ' when you post it and delete one . out of the ... and replace it.
Not bad, not bad at all. This short story is actually very interesting. You should continue writing 'cause you just got yourself a reader.
v6y.
You are an idiot.
You have not even an INKLING of what good poetry is, you are nothing but a mother effing spam bot sent to AG because of bad Karma.
SO GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THIS FANTASTIC THREAD!
/rage.
I like the short story so far, really great detail with what you have. But don't forget to add in your surroundings, like the kitchen or the window, etc, etc.
Oh, and c/p what you have in word, into notepad, then post it on here.
It sounds really nice. Teen Suicide is a strong topic and it keeps readers (well, at least me) on the edge of their seat. Keep me updated on when more comes out.
Thanks you guys!
You make my day! Or my hour, depending. XD
Moon, I would add more description, but somehow I feel that I can't or else it will ruin it. I don't know. It's an intuition thing. XD
Part One continued...
You could say I'm your typical angsty teen. Or rather, an angsty teen with a philosophy. And unlike those guys Confucius and whats-his-face, mine is really quite simple. "Life has no point." It really doesn't. For me, at least. Maybe those smart or popular girls at school have some sort of life, but I don't. Simple as that. All I do is take up space. You could call me ungrateful, because I honestly don't have a bad life where I am. But there's no point to it.
And so lately, I've been contemplating leaving this boring life, with the help of mom's medicine cabinet. I got into a sort of routine, almost. I lie on my bed with the bottle, thinking about how. When. Why. That was, of course, until the little mongrel next door started visiting me.
Part Two
Back to my routine, I think, almost cheerfully. I pick up a pill, weigh it in my hand. I'm about to take it when I hear a familiar rapping sound at my window. Not again. I pop the little pill in my mouth anyway, crunch it in satisfaction, and my heart almost stops when I see his ratty little face peeping in through my window again.
"What do you want?" I growl. I cross my arms and glower at him with all my might, hoping that he'll get the hint and leave.
No such luck. "Why did you take that pill?" He asks, with all the innocence of a child. Surprisingly, he holds my glare and watches my expression calmly.
I decide it wouldn't hurt me if I scar him for life. "I'm going to kill myself." I reply in the most chipper voice I can muster.
He nods, as if he already knew. "Will you please go for a walk with me?"
"Are you stupid?" I splutter, shocked. "No!"
He glances at the bottle in my hands, and again dons an expression of worry. "I see." His voice has a maturity that scares me. He turns and walks away, same as before. He walks so rigid it's as if he were in the military.
I make sure he's gone and close the window.
IMPORTANT STUFF
Moon and I have taken it upon ourselves to collaborate on a project. You probably already heard it from her thread, but it's going to be like WoM, but with no competition. Everyone can have alter egos, and if you want to have a guest appearance, say something!
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