Review my poetry and I'll review yours
Just as the title says.
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Wish Bone
He steps onto the platform, Not a moment too soon The audience is silent A chair on the stage his only boon But he shall win the crowd yet With two puppets hoisted below the arms He will make them come to life With his style, wit, and tenacious charm On his face he wears a peculiar mask, A white one, adorned with no sequins nor glitter Quite the opposite of a Mardi Gras mask, if you ask me, It is stony and all the more bitter He takes a seat on the edge of the wooden chair Placed primly in the center of the stage He fumbles around with the strings for a bit Then forces a dance upon his slaves I have the best view on his right, besides you on his left, And can assure that it is quite a spectacle But still the women are haughty and snooze On the shoulders of all the men bespectacled Somewhere in the distance an accordion plays It seems much like a carnival But the audience grows frustrated with this exercise, Lackluster and banal But this man, he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve, And he begins his incessant mumbling, He stands upright, looks deep into the night, And the puppets are no longer fumbling They have come to life, it’s true, The audience knows not what to make of this beguiling On the surface this man is cold and indifferent But below is he crying or smiling? The click and clatter make the audience cheer And roar with unremitting laughter, And let it be known that quite an odd spell Did fall on those peoples thereafter I saw those gray eyes better than most, save you, And as this man jumped up and danced, I did too And I’m glad that you’ve chosen not to be defiant To this man whom we endow our lives to So the night grew on, and the people grew sloth-like and tired But still we danced, and we danced, and we danced And I laughed (on the inside) at all the gentleman Who believed they could disown this trance However, I too grew tired and wanted out Yet strings did still bind me strong And somewhere in my wooden frame My heart did feel for this gullible throng For I was once one of them, And even if you don’t want to remember: so were you, What a shame there is no cure for such a disease as this Haunting, shape-shifting taboo This is your first time, though, And you are still filled with mirth Perhaps you believe you will overcome this, But your purpose was created well before birth Whatever you do, don’t try to fight back, The man with the strings will always see you through, For though you think you may have chosen your own path, The one on the left will always look like you A/N: I may submit it to my 8th grade literary magazine, so I want to get some feedback. Thanks... I'll review anything you want me to.
11/27/2007 #1
Yasona Black

Holy...wow...and you're in eighth grade? Thank you so much for a poem that actually sounds original. It doesn't sound cliche, and I absolutely love the whole puppet idea. I think the poem would be even better if you broke it up into some stanzas, it is long (which isn't a bad thing!), and it might make it easier to read. The line, "you are still filled with mirth," seems a little forced, I'm not sure why, it could just be me. I think you could describe a few more things, like how the crowd is and what the crowd is like at the beginning, before the guy comes out, and maybe describe more about the last line?(That might be a stretch but it could be fun to play around with.) Another thing, when you say "the audience grew sloth-like and tired," perhaps you could add some more description there, maybe about their feet dragging, or something like that. Of course it is all up to you.

All in all, I absolutely love this poem! It is amazing. If you could do me a favor, could you read and review one of my poems, Going Green? Thanks. Good luck writing!

6/27/2008 #2
Yasona Black

Holy...wow...and you're in eighth grade? Thank you so much for a poem that actually sounds original. It doesn't sound cliche, and I absolutely love the whole puppet idea. I think the poem would be even better if you broke it up into some stanzas, it is long (which isn't a bad thing!), and it might make it easier to read. The line, "you are still filled with mirth," seems a little forced, I'm not sure why, it could just be me. I think you could describe a few more things, like how the crowd is and what the crowd is like at the beginning, before the guy comes out, and maybe describe more about the last line?(That might be a stretch but it could be fun to play around with.) Another thing, when you say "the audience grew sloth-like and tired," perhaps you could add some more description there, maybe about their feet dragging, or something like that. Of course it is all up to you.

All in all, I absolutely love this poem! It is amazing. If you could do me a favor, could you read and review one of my poems, Going Green? Thanks. Good luck writing!

6/27/2008 #3
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