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Whenever life felt unfair
I’d go outside for some fresh air
Normally heading to the seas
Desperately in need for the nice breeze

Waited barefoot on the shore
And let waves crash on my feet
Truly a feeling I adore
Even then, I felt defeat
Ready to end my inner war

End is near, i can feel it
As a sunflower in September
Rotting , fading ready to peel it
To use her seeds and to remember
How long you got to keep it

Fired up, and full of passion
I’m ready to become a better person
Ready to rise up after I burn
Eyes out world, it is my turn

I hope it doesn’t count off topic haha but i had fun writing this :)

I like how you start this poem for this verse things feel off I think it would be better with

Like a sunflower fading in September
I'm ready to begin anew
To let my seeds spread and grow
letting something that was great be greater /to let something strong be stronger

Or Our end is near I can feel it
We were good but not the best fit/not meant to be ...
Like a Sunflower in September
Fate decides it's time for me to go.
Use my seeds and remember
all the times we had together.

Or some others depends on what struggles in particular

I agree, however look closer at the first letter of each line haha. I also tried to keep it rhyming and struggled to keep it light

Oh did you want it to be completely general struggles or did u have more idea of potential meanings for inner war maybe just without it after peel instead be peeled and to have her seeds used maybe

Along a cliff of blackened rock arises
Blackened cracks. Blistered stone splits wide
Exhaling breath afoul with bile; the putrid
Air is warm, and further in the cracks grows thick
And gastric hot

Inside the darkness: boiling heat and
Distant crackles; a deep inhuman moan
Cuts through abyss, along its back it
Carries demon screams and guffs of
Charring flesh

A sudden drop, into infernal black:
Observe the winding tributary, onyx
Flame flowing like silk and bathing all
In lightless heat. Perched atop the lapping tongues
Behold Old Charon's seat

Blackened robes that never seem to burn
A crooked figure built of igneous bone
That towers, still as stone, and still it would
Remain until the end of time, but for
Lord Hades' order: Plough the River Styx

Edits for formatting space between lines.

I like how the mood more or less rises consistently from start to end.

I'd say maybe be more deliberate about- / experiment more with rhythm. For example, the last line of the first verse > Desperately in need for the nice breeze

feels a bit jammed into the rhythm of the previous lines. Same with the second line of second verse. This can be totally ok and even great if done deliberately, to highlight something about what the line is saying, sort of how a long galloping-sounding sentence can emphasise movement.

Also, every line being a new clause gets (semantically) repetitive and limits what you can do with rhythm, try some enjambments.

A useful method I sometimes use is to start a poem conforming to a specific metrical structure (like using only iambs, only n stressed syllables, etc.) then as I start to hear the poem better I let myself break the structure where it feels right. YMMV but this usually helps when I don't have a clear aural picture of what I want to say.

Hope this was useful!

I traveled over seven seas

with the storm crashing against me,

and over seven continents

with the mountains obstructing my path.

​

I needed to see,

what was at the end?

​

I traveled flying with the birds

while the gale drove me away,

and finally reached my destination

after three lifetimes.

​

In the fourth lifetime,

I found a hellscape.

​

The raging fire charred the soil

and turned the air scorching.

and made the water boil.

Nothing was safe.

​

But when I looked closer,

I saw something.

​

The soil was fertilized.

The stream was now a hot spring.

The steam purified you.

The fire blazed on.

​

Fire can destroy,

but the elements are harmonious.

This was really good! I liked the descriptions.

I think it would be better to use something like "heartless heat" than "flightless heat" unless you specifically wanted to highlight darkness.

Also, I think you should capitalize only the beginnings of sentences, not lines.

The internal struggle of spiritual belief:

​

Take care of your divinity

It allows you to spread light

Salting the earth with

Grains of unearned positivity

​

Winds whispering the words

Corralling the masses to herd

While they hang on every word

It all seems so absurd

​

Holy water blinding their vision

Wrath filled, dreaming of desire

Be careful if you disagree with them

Or you’ll burn in hell, in fire.

[deleted]

I love it so much
It’s so nice to see the balance between the 4 elements and how you can see the harmony all through the poem

I really like the "lightness heat" and the contrast of the dark blackness with the flames. This feels so doomful and threatening to me. Also like the greek mythology - I googled charon and the river styx to see what they are (havent heard of before), and I like the connection between all of the greek myth references.

kitchen

​

show me the

moon's belly

the bottom of her white skirt

crescent stretch marks

yellow light firefly

drive in movie

​

on the mountain immortal dogs run wild

watch out for curled tails bared teeth

each awake when tomatoes bloom

​

winter woods watch

shedding woolen wrappings of ice blanket

peaks shred revealing naked rock thigh

as spring lights the spark parting

powder snow leaving ash behind

each season a funeral procession

I like your topic here and the way divinity becomes a personal characteristic. I like the imagery that connects earth to body to eventually fire/creation. Especially love the salt/earth connecting to grains.

I think your last line is good but I might go with hellfire rather than "hell, in fire" because I think the hell connects better if it comes right after and makes for a more succinct ending.

Thank you! I actually considered hellfire originally but felt it didn’t have enough punch but that seems to have been to my detriment, I appreciate the feedback and will take your advice on board for the next one :)

Again nature sleeps,

Blanketed by freezing winds

Waiting for morning.

​

Awakening dirt

Roots stretching, leaves unfurl

Reaching for the sun.

​

Summer sun rises

Heat spreads from wildfires

Earth begins to thirst

​

Autumn rain-storms flood

Under thundering gray skies

Nature drinks her fill

​

Tired, she slumbers,

Under a blanket of snow

the cycle repeats.

​

One year at a time.

---------------------------------------

WC - 60 words - edit for formatting

r/Spirited_Words

To the Wildfire.

​

Alight! Fledgling gasp of enlightened breath!

Stretch to distant Fornax: your Father's beating heart

Kindle life in feathered gods, in Pliny's reborn spark

​

Cradle in your ashen wings the clutch of summer

Crash uncaught on blackjack pine, while shortstraws fall and rise

Split the hermetic seals of chaparral souls, once open free to thrive

​

So quickened, they become a verdant legacy of ash

A memory of Dante, transfigured into Blake

The Lamb unburnt by Tyger's bite, nourished by spring rain

​

In darkened night, and coldest ground, you spark against the earth

Aquilla's children swoop and dive, to seek out perch and prey

Snap!

Crack!

Spark, again! No better midwife than a flame.

Good Stygian theme throughout, first two stanzas really give a sense of sulfur and decay. Sets up nicely for the introduction of the Styx. Love "Old Charon's seat" as almost punctuation.

Only edit I would offer would be consider the repeat of "blackened" in the first two lines. blackened cracks doesn't add much to blackened rock and vice versa.

You do a lot with little here, and I appreciate that. The depictions of winter and spring convey their seasons effortlessly.

I would offer that "Autumn rain storms flood" is somewhat clunky in that it has two interpretations for a reader: "Autumn rain storms flood" with rainstorms as the subject and flood as the verb or "Autumn rain storms flood" with rain as the subject and storms as the verb and then flood just kinda lying there at the end.

Ode to a Campfire

I

 

Amid a tangled mass of trees and rock,

A forest where light dapples into shade,

A clearing lies where we have taken stock

 

To rest a while in this pleasant glade.

And when that rest is broke by hunger's call?

We walk no more; a campsite here is made.

 

Our tents rise up as sunlight starts to fall

Their pegs like roots are driven into earth

Firm foundations for our resting hall.

 

So dig we now a circle in the turf

Exposing stone much stabler and drier

Our carried wood shall prove its weight and worth

 

As with a sudden spark it turns to fire.

 

II

 

How brightly now our cooking fire burns

A thing of light and warmth within the wood

Smoke twists up and dances as it turns.

 

We have made a thing, and called it good

When it sates and satisfies our need

And in this moment all seems as it should

 

But fire, like a living thing must feed

To stave off death, it will all things devour

Consuming, unrepentant, in its greed.

 

So watchful we must be, although the hour

Grows late; the sun has made its westward arc

Our tool, our toy, still holds its heat and power

 

A last light as the world around grows dark.

 

III

 

Above us now, faint starlight spots the sky

Our fire banks in deference, to match

dim embers twisting red to please the eye

 

Our quiet conversations start and catch

Against the snap and crackle from the fire

Each silence taking longer to dispatch

 

Words and light and people all can tire

When lengthy days in nature reach the night

The flames know when to rest and to respire

 

So when the final moment feels just right

Douse the fire! With one last clap of steam!

Let darkness blanket now this forest night

 

And let us slip off smoothly into dream.

Fire

There's a fire in my heart.
Where it sits and writhes and burns.
And I tire and I tumble from the venom that it spurns.
Does the world I interact with see me kindly or with hate? Would they rescue me, or watch me as they leave me to my fate? Could I stand up to the bullies and the terrors in the night? And how do I discover if these dogs will bark or bite?

There's a fire in my brain.
When I'm tired and depleted.
So I wonder and I ponder of the ways that I am treated.
And do I so deserve this? Should I find a clever quip? Fight back or scare it off —force the narrative to flip? In my favor or against, do I really care at all? Is the likelihood of victory still worth it if I fall?

There's a fire in my stomach.
And I'd rather it was not.
It feels queasy and uneasy and discordant in that spot.
Should I even bother then, to investigate this state? Would it let me turn the tables or already be too late? Can I force it, can I chase it, from the darkness of this pit? Can I stomp and scream and holler, or erase it with some wit?

There's a fire in my eyes.
And here it feels okay.
I will use it and peruse it just a little if I may.
Let me find the clever meanings. Will they answer, will they fuel? Will they understand my gesture or decide me to be cruel? Can I keep them dancing maybe, to the rhythm of this beat? Let me coax them ever gently, to their imminent defeat.

*************

WC: 284

Edits: formatting and the likes

I never liked candles at my friends’ birthday parties as a kid.
I always moved away from the table,
fearing that as they blew it out
the flame would only transfer rather than disappear
and I would find my face awake with heat.

In middle school I was still afraid,
but made myself out to be fascinated.
I centered my science projects around flame
and became comfortable using long lighters
though I still wouldn’t touch a match.

Somehow growing into adulthood it managed to flip
intrigued by fire
yet now avoiding water
High school nightmares followed middle school trauma
drowning as much a fear as revealing my own body
so I hide myself in layers,
count the places clothing covers
and in my anxiety and exhaustion
barely manage to shower.

I should not be weak to water.
It didn’t have to be this way.
So underneath all of this fear
underneath the thought spirals that suffocate
I nurture burning rage, declaring
it’s you who made me this way.

It might not really be, but who cares?
At least my childhood wouldn’t have been so trapped
at least my memories wouldn’t be a trap
that I fall into, time and time again
replaying your comments
replaying your movements
replaying what I had no control over
forced to experience
forced to do
and each family member I turned to for help
wouldn’t meet my eye.

So I hope you suffocate here,
as I flip this match between my fingers.
What happens to me next, I hardly care
but I can’t wait to watch your home be erased
to hear the wind howling over scorched earth
and say, quietly,
you did this to yourself.

I really like this! I like the way the lines lengthen as each stanza goes on but the rhyme scheme holds steady; It makes it feel like the pace of the poem picks up, rushing feverishly forward. The narrator is burning up over how he will be perceived and whether he will succeed or fail, but is able to use that fire nonetheless. I think my favorite line is >It feels queasy and uneasy and discordant in that spot.

where I feel like the rhythm really pays off.

I'm not totally sure what 'trope' means in the context of your third line and maybe a different word could pair with 'tire' there? Might just be me missing it though.

I read this twice before I realized the word 'phoenix' isn't actually anywhere in it. It's cool that you managed to imply it so strongly.

Also chaparral is a really fun word.

Hi there Lost_Carcosan!

Thank you for your feedback! I'm glad you enjoyed my poem. Good catch on the meaning of 'trope' not being entirely clear. I've replaced it with tumble.

Thanks again!

Hi ruraljurorlibrarian,

I really like the imagery of this piece. The words flow very nicely and create a sense of peace somehow, if that makes sense.

A little nitpick:

>each awake when tomatoes bloom

I found I lost my immersions with this sentence at the word 'tomatoes'. Might just be me missing it's meaning but for me, it broke the vibe of the poem.

My favorite sentence:

>each season a funeral procession

I find this sentence to be really powerful and an excellent ending to your poem.

Winter winds whisper against the windowpane.
Dull and dreary mood begging let me in.
Beneath this blanket, cozy and warm,
I deny its entry and snuggle in.

Rain trickles against the glass.
Spring flowers bloom beyond.
Water washes off the slate,
Brings a hopeful new dawn.

Waves of heat shine and burn.
Passionate fire spreads.
Colors, vivid and wild –
But, still I see in shades of red.

Crunching leaves smack against my walls.
The threat of death is not my friend.
But Earth reminds me it’s not the end,
That life will rise once again.

A DAY ON THE FARM, 1955

(A technicolour dream from a black and white scene)

----------

A family wakes to the rooster’s dawn
Fumbling on clothes through dreary yawns
Fighting off the sleep
A mother smiles to a father’s soft kiss
A brother hides from a sister’s hard kick
Fighting not to weep

A father works the fields and fertile soil
Through storms and rain, he has always toiled
Fighting for the best
Images crash his mind from a decade ago
Limitless flashes of bodies with bullet holes
Fighting like the rest

A mother cares for the home with only love
As soft and as warm as a red velvet glove
Kindness in her heart
Prepares the meals like a painting master
She cares, she heals, she plays like an actor
Kindness in her art

A sister studies to follow her dreams
Of being more than a mother who breeds
Wishing for better
Brother plays soldiers like Dad the hero
Mother prays son does not choose that road
Wishing him better

An infant sleeps in a cot by the flames
Bellies full, a family dreams of the same
Warmth from the hearth
A brother dances from sister’s glaring eyes
A mother glances at father who smiles
Warmth in their hearts

----------

WC - 194

Edited for formatting

#Perfect Storm

The day is anything but calm outside my earthen hall

The inferno swirls around me like a gargantuan w wall

The searing fire licks at the cracking mud bricks

Treating my life as if it were a pile of tinder sticks

A maelstrom of ice and sleet rains down from the sky

Launching its watery offensive intent on my demise

Barbed icicles pierce down inches from my head

Bathing my small home in a sea of crimson red

Winds whip about me and rattle my lights

Superheated by the inferno with icy bites

My walls crumble beneath its blistering strike

Entering my bones and cutting through like a pike

A perfect storm raging outside my mind

Defended by nothing but meagre mud grind

It may be small and it may not be much

But it's all made better with chocolate and such

WC: 142

I tried relying pretty heavily on allusion and implication, hard to thread the line.

And I agree, chaparral is very fun.

I pondered the flame
That danced above that wick
How alike, how different.

Aristotle said you
Were one of four -- air, earth, water, fire
Making up one and all.

The poets have said
You're alive -- you dance
In the breeze, you eat, you kill.

The chemist says
You're oxidation -- energetic, exothermic
A reaction to continue while fed.

But I will say
You're unique -- one of a kind
Short lived.

That's how we're alike,
Born, burn, fade,
Candles snuffed out all too quickly.

(Word count: 82. Please let me know what you like/dislike about the post. Thank you in advance for your time and attention. Other works can also be found linked in r/atcroft_wordcraft.)

Great pome, Fye! Glad you joined us :D. This has excellent vivid imagery and lovely flow. A few bits of crit:

>The inferno swirls around me like a gargantuan w wall

Repeated "w" there.

>A perfect storm raging outside my mind

Defended by nothing but meagre mud grind

It may be small and it may not be much

But it's all made better with chocolate and such

I love the shift in focus here, but I feel the ending itself is a bit sudden. You spend a whole poem describing this raging inferno, and then jump to "it's all made better with chocolate and such". And that doesn't mean you can't end it that way, but I'd like a bit more along with it or perhaps just a more serious tone than the somewhat dismissive "chocolate and such".

Good words!