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| Topic: Tear me to shreds! - Literary Criticism Room | |
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good call.
you should read my asterisky free-verse poetry and comment. |
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Edited by
soufiehere
on
Tue 10/26/10 02:51 PM
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deactivated at 5555 posts. 
I hope he comes back. Tribbles too. Maybe they had a Mountain Dew recall. And they got picked up in the sweep. (((((((((((((Plastic_Pancakes)))))))))))))) (((((((((((((((((Tribbles)))))))))))))))))) |
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Now I know why Fear quit drinking the Dew last week!!!
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deactivated at 5555 posts.
I hope he comes back. Tribbles too. quitters |
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Now I know why Fear quit drinking the Dew last week!!! He knew something! Uh. Seen him today? |
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Now I know why Fear quit drinking the Dew last week!!! He knew something! Uh. Seen him today? Now that you mention it.... ? |
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life's a terrible scam.
whose work should i rip to shreds, folks? |
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Now I know why Fear quit drinking the Dew last week!!! He knew something! Uh. Seen him today? Now that you mention it.... ? He's been posting all day, where have you been? |
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 I was joking T. haha
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I was joking T. haha
Women can't joke. Hence the confusion. |
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i feel ignored.
this is only child syndrome. except it's just boredom. for real - what should i critique? dig the pic, torgo. row - you're cooler in focus. |
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life's a terrible scam. whose work should i rip to shreds, folks? Oh they all love that. I agree with bastet though - you should all take a bow. I do know that Tribbles really wanted someone to shred his story. |
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Edited by
RowBaby
on
Tue 10/26/10 04:25 PM
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Too slow. Always trying to keep up.
As the oldest of 3 I got a lot of the (negative) attention. Women can to joke! 
Perfect - is my picture outta focus? I've been told that that pic doesn't look like me. It's only a couple weeks old. |
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i feel ignored. this is only child syndrome. except it's just boredom. for real - what should i critique? dig the pic, torgo. row - you're cooler in focus. Thanks! |
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The smell of pumpkin moonshine filled the air. Fall was offically on it's way. Melissa was sooo excited she couldn't sleep a wink. To calm herself visually, she even went as far as to paint her room pink! But it didn't work. Nope, nothing seemed to work. She tried everything, and I mean EVERYTHING! Herbal teas, aromatherapy, meditation, and exercise. Hell, even her granny's world renowned Tryptophan Casserole didn't work. None of them worked. It started to feel like all was pointless, and Melissa was doomed to never sleep again. Was it something she could live with? She often pondered this question, and one day finally realized, of course not. Nobody can live without sleep! The moment she came to this epiphany, if was almost as if a small weight had been lifted from the endoplasmic reticulum of her nether region. Feeling better, she decided to go out. Now mind you, Melissa lived in a very small town, and there's really not a whole lot to do there. If you ever find yourself there, you have two choices - 1) Go to Buttcrack Bayou and grab a beer. 2) Go to Skeeterpeters Pornographic Get-N-Go, and you know... Being the girl Melissa is, she obviously chose... Dun Dun Dunnnnnnn To find out the answers to these questions, and more... ... tune in next week for the exciting conclusion of; Diaries of a Pornographic Puzzle Farter If you're as smart as you tend to write you should be able to juggle impossible allegories with your fantastic stories; instead, left behind, is a chaotic mess with no ending or beginning and not even worthy of the terminology "in medias res". Do better. |
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Too slow. Always trying to keep up. As the oldest of 3 I got a lot of the (negative) attention. Women can to joke!
Perfect - is my picture outta focus? I've been told that that pic doesn't look like me. It's only a couple weeks old. you rock. don't be concerned. |
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Too slow. Always trying to keep up. As the oldest of 3 I got a lot of the (negative) attention. Women can to joke!
Perfect - is my picture outta focus? I've been told that that pic doesn't look like me. It's only a couple weeks old. you rock. don't be concerned. I wasn't just curious is all. Thanks, I assume Tribbles will like being critiqued if and when he returns. Next do Soufie! I love her write. |
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You KNOW I don't want to do this. But I will, the once, for you P_P. Some background.. I wrote this for a feller I met on M2. He had asked me if I knew what his nick-name meant..I had answered 'Is it about dental floss?' It had the word 'glide' in it. He was appalled, apparently the first motorcycle by Harley was the Electra Glide so I wrote this to show I grasped it. DETRIMENTAL I never finished it as it was over before then so, the syllable matches are off... DETRIMENTAL Outlaw He glides with electra, into the night they ride as one at the wind The righteous shy away in fright like the devil himself has sinned. He thunders into the darkening bend trails of his dust flying high He knows what he needs to defend to the end and he knows what he needs to defy. He flaunts his freedom in weathered chaps as he haunts the home of the brave He smiles behind his shades of glass because the road to hell is paved. In the first line "electra" should be capitalized. I think the whole sentence would benefit from ending with a period after "night". "The righteous ones shy away in their fright" is how I would have written the line. If you don't agree with it - rock n' roll - but that's how I truly feel. "He thunders into the darkening bend trails of his dust flying high" Be more prosaic. 'As he thunders into the dark bend,/ Trails of his dust flying high" There's a lot of room to move in on that moment. Don't ignore it. It could be the core of the piece. "He flaunts his freedom in weathered chaps as he haunts the home of the brave He smiles behind his shades of glass because the road to hell is paved." Come on. You've brought me this far to give up on your own style? Nothing matches. The piece is incomplete. Knowledge, as was supplied to me, was to rewrite it without a copy and see what you get. "because the road to hell is paved" has excellent structure and is interesting in its visual nature. Don't quite being brilliant there. You waver off, diminishing the great knock-out of the final stanza, which is necessary. "as he haunts the home of the brave" may be the truest sentence in the poem, but it doesn't communicate well and it is awkward. There is a lot of potential here for a GREAT (i hate all caps) piece, but it's held back by your personal connection to the lines. cheers. |
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PRESS 1 FOR MORE LIES
Platitudes for a thoughtless world, Cliches for inertiads, "There's someone for everyone" "It comes when you're not looking" More lies -- What next? A man on the moon? Generalizing, oversimplifying; You say "I have the answer" But it's an answer stolen From thief after thief after thief, None of whom ever had it to begin with Because it's a lie Think: 2+2=9 "This square peg fits in this round hole, And if it doesn't, We'll claim it does anyway -- Who can dispute us?" Reality tells us otherwise -- Reality doesn't fit In your Box Of Lies |
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PRESS 1 FOR MORE LIES Platitudes for a thoughtless world, Cliches for inertiads, "There's someone for everyone" "It comes when you're not looking" More lies -- What next? A man on the moon? Generalizing, oversimplifying; You say "I have the answer" But it's an answer stolen From thief after thief after thief, None of whom ever had it to begin with Because it's a lie Think: 2+2=9 "This square peg fits in this round hole, And if it doesn't, We'll claim it does anyway -- Who can dispute us?" Reality tells us otherwise -- Reality doesn't fit In your Box Of Lies I don't believe you. The emotion of embitterment comes across more sternly than any message you are trying to convey (if any). 'Generalizing, oversimplifying; You say "I have the answer"' The greatest poetic lines in your poem, you continue to toy with them until they are almost unrecognizable amongst your ******** writing. By not continuing the quotable theme of the first stanza you deny the possibility for personal identification to your words. If distance is what you want, then you've succeeded, but that's not what I believe. Through your individual piece I don't like you enough to trust math equations you complete, whether or not you complete them - I become uninterested. Imagine what the ordinary, uninterested reader will feel. You have, clearly, enough intelligence to write the ******** poetry you've more than begun to. Do you have the gall to stick to limiting styles? Your words sing truer than your message, which is an essential **** up. You've already written four or five books. If you can't write a poem about the girl that broke your heart I'm about to become bored. Don't get emo. Do me a favor and write it - since you are a writer. |
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