Outside Criticism Needed
NumbersNotFound
Join Date: 2002-11-07 Member: 7556Members
Join Date: 2002-11-07 Member: 7556Members
<div class="IPBDescription">(caution! poems inside..)</div> Hey, I've been writing a whole bunch of stuff over the past year, and now my school is accepting submissions for a Literary Magazine... I don't wanna look like a total flake that just writes all day (which isn't too far from the truth) and would like some input.
Out of these, what do you think would be the top 3-5? Or maybe just rank them if you want...
1:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->The Pitfalls of Human Adaptability
A hand of fury
Brings terror to the land
When controlled by the powerful.
The same hands that pray
Also pick up a sword
To smite their enemies.
The worst and best of life lies
In the nuances of the universal,
And the driving convictions behind them.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
2:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->A Watch
A watch is the most indifferent lover
With a constant flutter of heart
For anyone who swings it the right way.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
3:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->I Don't Like Heights
Why has the opposite sex
Become such a subject of vex?
I have recently tracked it down to subtle fear,
Much to my dismay, and venture further to make its origin clear.
Frustration sets upon the most determined being
After the hundredth chance is squandered by irrationality.
An affectionate glance sends me away from reality,
To a place of instant misery. I am reeling.
Atop a building, teetering.
Looking down at faceless hundreds who are cheering.
I see my response's result
As I speed towards the asphalt,
All the way turning and flapping in vain,
As the hundreds yell louder at my pain.
And at the muffled thump they go quiet,
Sympathize, reverse polarity from the riot.
And quickly scrape my rejection from the street.
The reeling stops with a clank,
As I look away with horrid resolve,
Doomed to never raise the social ranks,
I want to fade into the background, dissolve.
Darwin must be chuckling
At my trials of propagation,
Noting studiously this futile heckling
Of his vicious subjugation.
But I defy him often,
With each minute revelation.
Each one serves to soften
That mental bastion of reformation.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
4:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->Flashback
Steve Oozier woke up,
When he was about 3,
He remembered nothing from the past,
And developed his first long term memories.
He scurried through life,
And at the age of 19,
Fell in love with the introvert down the street.
Time slowed around her,
Bent around her,
Like the curvature of light around a planet.
Only this mass was beauty,
And it mangled his perception.
Ripped him out of his body,
Froze her in place,
Spun around her,
Inspected every curve and hair,
Looked into, around, behind her eyes,
And snapped back into his body.
She glowed softly for awhile, then disappeared.
He went on with his life.
And got a job.
Everything turned black.
He came back to reality.
He recoiled in pain.
And three weeks later, came out of the hospital,
With a new outlook on life, and a couple scars.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
5:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->Insightful Jabber
It's funny how people look
With their arm over their face
Positioned just so-
So their eyes see only dark space.
Without these simple gems,
Life is only hinted,
By a shallow heaving of chest
And occational twitch of the hand.
I'm surprised that they wake up-
It gives me a start-
That the dead once again rises-
And springs to life before me.
It is only then that I realize
That eyes are not windows to a cold soul,
But rather prime observation decks
To the raging inferno of life.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
6: <!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->Radio
I could never keep myself along with a radio,
It is much too frightful a task,
To think of not only what is in front of me,
But what has been.
Thousands of trapped soldiers,
Praying for contact.
Millions of people with this sole posession
To tell them of the world.
Its almost ironic to have such a universal piece
Just sitting there... collecting dust
On my desk, and under my TV.
Its almost hypnotic to think-
Of the hundreds of unforseen waves.
Bouncing, twisting, turning, changing,
All to serve my purpose of simple entertainment.
The life of these waves must be very dull,
Speeding, quite fast, towards their senseless demise.
And the little maganet moves a coil.
And I hear some joyous music.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
7:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->Existance
Ever wonder if existence is a cruel satire?
Mocking what it should be.
Opposing boldly what defines average,
And accentuating those universal anomalies.
It's too subtle to be a comedy-
With its dry, dull, insipid humor-
Not fit for that raging river of populous,
Yet scarcely grasped by creeks of life.
Do these few exclusively know of this abstract comedy,
Or is that perception their anomaly?<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
If you actually like these thoughts ejected from my mind, take a look at my <a href='http://www.thekickback.com/viewtopic.php?t=1633' target='_blank'>complete works</a>
Thx.
Out of these, what do you think would be the top 3-5? Or maybe just rank them if you want...
1:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->The Pitfalls of Human Adaptability
A hand of fury
Brings terror to the land
When controlled by the powerful.
The same hands that pray
Also pick up a sword
To smite their enemies.
The worst and best of life lies
In the nuances of the universal,
And the driving convictions behind them.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
2:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->A Watch
A watch is the most indifferent lover
With a constant flutter of heart
For anyone who swings it the right way.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
3:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->I Don't Like Heights
Why has the opposite sex
Become such a subject of vex?
I have recently tracked it down to subtle fear,
Much to my dismay, and venture further to make its origin clear.
Frustration sets upon the most determined being
After the hundredth chance is squandered by irrationality.
An affectionate glance sends me away from reality,
To a place of instant misery. I am reeling.
Atop a building, teetering.
Looking down at faceless hundreds who are cheering.
I see my response's result
As I speed towards the asphalt,
All the way turning and flapping in vain,
As the hundreds yell louder at my pain.
And at the muffled thump they go quiet,
Sympathize, reverse polarity from the riot.
And quickly scrape my rejection from the street.
The reeling stops with a clank,
As I look away with horrid resolve,
Doomed to never raise the social ranks,
I want to fade into the background, dissolve.
Darwin must be chuckling
At my trials of propagation,
Noting studiously this futile heckling
Of his vicious subjugation.
But I defy him often,
With each minute revelation.
Each one serves to soften
That mental bastion of reformation.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
4:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->Flashback
Steve Oozier woke up,
When he was about 3,
He remembered nothing from the past,
And developed his first long term memories.
He scurried through life,
And at the age of 19,
Fell in love with the introvert down the street.
Time slowed around her,
Bent around her,
Like the curvature of light around a planet.
Only this mass was beauty,
And it mangled his perception.
Ripped him out of his body,
Froze her in place,
Spun around her,
Inspected every curve and hair,
Looked into, around, behind her eyes,
And snapped back into his body.
She glowed softly for awhile, then disappeared.
He went on with his life.
And got a job.
Everything turned black.
He came back to reality.
He recoiled in pain.
And three weeks later, came out of the hospital,
With a new outlook on life, and a couple scars.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
5:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->Insightful Jabber
It's funny how people look
With their arm over their face
Positioned just so-
So their eyes see only dark space.
Without these simple gems,
Life is only hinted,
By a shallow heaving of chest
And occational twitch of the hand.
I'm surprised that they wake up-
It gives me a start-
That the dead once again rises-
And springs to life before me.
It is only then that I realize
That eyes are not windows to a cold soul,
But rather prime observation decks
To the raging inferno of life.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
6: <!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->Radio
I could never keep myself along with a radio,
It is much too frightful a task,
To think of not only what is in front of me,
But what has been.
Thousands of trapped soldiers,
Praying for contact.
Millions of people with this sole posession
To tell them of the world.
Its almost ironic to have such a universal piece
Just sitting there... collecting dust
On my desk, and under my TV.
Its almost hypnotic to think-
Of the hundreds of unforseen waves.
Bouncing, twisting, turning, changing,
All to serve my purpose of simple entertainment.
The life of these waves must be very dull,
Speeding, quite fast, towards their senseless demise.
And the little maganet moves a coil.
And I hear some joyous music.<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
7:<!--c1--></span><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>CODE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><!--ec1-->Existance
Ever wonder if existence is a cruel satire?
Mocking what it should be.
Opposing boldly what defines average,
And accentuating those universal anomalies.
It's too subtle to be a comedy-
With its dry, dull, insipid humor-
Not fit for that raging river of populous,
Yet scarcely grasped by creeks of life.
Do these few exclusively know of this abstract comedy,
Or is that perception their anomaly?<!--c2--></td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'><!--ec2-->
If you actually like these thoughts ejected from my mind, take a look at my <a href='http://www.thekickback.com/viewtopic.php?t=1633' target='_blank'>complete works</a>
Thx.
Comments
Keep up the good work! <!--emo&:D--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'><!--endemo-->