I'd like my fellow TL.netters to critique the poem I've pasted below. It was written by an Indian(Hindu, from India) friend of mine, and English isnt his first language.
"Lonely for You..."
I've reread all your letters And kissed your photograph; I'm trying to remember The funny way you laugh.
The many times you held me when things turned upside down; You always raised my spirits and smiled away my frown.
But where are you today, dear, when I am missing you? I need to hear you whisper the love I know is true.
If you are there and hear me, please bring me your sweet smile. I long to hold you, darling, for just a little while
One more thing. He posted this in some forum and one of the posters replied: "your poem has too much rhyme". I dont get that. What exactly is "too much rhyme"? Or is this poster just trying to be a smart ass?
I confess it doesn't do anything for me, but at least it's not
Kati's Poem
Kati my newest friend elegent as the wind. Can you ever be more than my friend? I promise not to cheat.(referring to her ex) I promise not to lie. I only want your heart with mine.
We couldn't go to the dance. But maybe we will share romance. You might love me If you just give me a chance
Find a poem, and critique it.. smells of homework assignment. Why do you want teamliquid to critique it? The monkey will not dance without a peanut. No why, no dancing. Requests without stories are blah.. at least make up one. We want peanuts.
its too generic and overused... tell him to be more creative.. the poem structure is fine just that it doesn't really stand out in anyway hope that helps
On December 19 2006 10:35 Way wrote: its too generic and overused... tell him to be more creative.. the poem structure is fine just that it doesn't really stand out in anyway hope that helps
On December 19 2006 10:35 Way wrote: its too generic and overused... tell him to be more creative.. the poem structure is fine just that it doesn't really stand out in anyway hope that helps
Poem is really okay in its way Although bit corny but it still display Some love in the poem, where it lay You put some work in and that's Okay!
I used to write my love in verses And put it in some fancy letters I put the paper in folded with flowers I handed the letter to one of my lovers
She opens the letter and sees the rhyme O MY GOD, how loudly she cry But then she said this evil line "Sounds like a woman", the poem of mine
Since then I refused to write In the verses where the love could lie I then will go to the love of my life And say it straight, will you be mine?
Don't get me wrong the poem is fine Just remember there's more than just lines That convers your feelings and love and beside A hug or smile may work better hundreds of times
So hold your lovers and cut the words You know she loves you more than she hears Try SINGING before your lovely verse And sing to her no matter you're worse
Call me wrong but for me it's this Youngsters like passion, so giver her a kiss Poems are cute they're sweet and bliss But bodys are too hot, the word they remiss
Poems are not gay, they're awesome ^_^ And rhymes are THE thing in poem, the fuck with too many rhymes, they just suck too much to rhyme in the first place.
Since we're in the spirit of sharing poems here's a sonnet i wrote recently. Feel free to critique.
Sonnet 1
Vicariously I lie in this cell. Tortured, trembling, terrified, I am scarred Wrongly done, mistreated, serving life in hell; Kept inside me, emotions tightly jarred. Keen anger, angst, animosity flowing Today the guilty walks as I lay lost. Inside, my hate and fear, boldly showing Innocently I must now pay the cost. Only in death may I leave this very place Life isn’t just, but I must now depart Please don’t remember me a disgrace Left mortal life behind for a new start
Reside now in the heavens with anew Waiting for my lovers to follow through.
On December 19 2006 15:50 CrownRoyal wrote: Since we're in the spirit of sharing poems here's a sonnet i wrote recently. Feel free to critique.
Sonnet 1
Vicariously I lie in this cell. Tortured, trembling, terrified, I am scarred Wrongly done, mistreated, serving life in hell; Kept inside me, emotions tightly jarred. Keen anger, angst, animosity flowing Today the guilty walks, as I lay lost. Inside, my hate and fear, boldly showing Innocently I must now pay the cost. Only in death may I leave this very place Life isn’t just, but I must now depart Please don’t remember me a disgrace Left mortal life behind for a new start
Reside now in the heavens with anew Waiting for my lovers to follow through.
On December 19 2006 15:50 CrownRoyal wrote: Since we're in the spirit of sharing poems here's a sonnet i wrote recently. Feel free to critique.
Sonnet 1
Vicariously I lie in this cell. Tortured, trembling, terrified, I am scarred Wrongly done, mistreated, serving life in hell; Kept inside me, emotions tightly jarred. Keen anger, angst, animosity flowing Today the guilty walks, as I lay lost. Inside, my hate and fear, boldly showing Innocently I must now pay the cost. Only in death may I leave this very place Life isn’t just, but I must now depart Please don’t remember me a disgrace Left mortal life behind for a new start
Reside now in the heavens with anew Waiting for my lovers to follow through.
Rhyming is hard to do well. And by that I mean, so it doesn't come off cheesy or have a sing-song rhythm. It does indeed rhyme poorly, I don't think that kid was being a smartass, or even if he was, it's good criticism. Also, the poem has nothing original about it. I think most people could've have written an approximation of that poem. A good measure of writing is to ask yourself, could anyone but <fill in the blank> have written this? Good writing is very distinctive.
I should also say, that since poetry is so dependent on using the exact right words, that writing good poetry in another language is very hard to do.
On December 19 2006 16:18 A3iL3r0n wrote: Rhyming is hard to do well. And by that I mean, so it doesn't come off cheesy or have a sing-song rhythm. It does indeed rhyme poorly, I don't think that kid was being a smartass, or even if he was, it's good criticism. Also, the poem has nothing original about it. I think most people could've have written an approximation of that poem. A good measure of writing is to ask yourself, could anyone but <fill in the blank> have written this? Good writing is very distinctive.
I should also say, that since poetry is so dependent on using the exact right words, that writing good poetry in another language is very hard to do.
Lol Rhyming is not hard! Did you got hit by a metal bar? Just say stuff and shuffle words around And in the combonation rhyme will be found It's as simple as placing "aye" in place of "yes" Or as simple as changing "tell" into "Confess" I must do this becomes This I must do Here's a simple rhyme line for you!
Just made that in 1 minute. It's not hard! Just think abit more of which word goes where to rhyme, be adventurous.
On December 19 2006 16:52 lil.sis wrote: evan the bouncy is a fag ppl from russia always lag reading poems makes me gag the mountain in GUTS was the aggro-crag
Maybe my post wasn't clear. Rhyming is difficult to pull off in a way that adds to the poem and doesn't detract from it. Robert Frost's famous poem, The Road Not Taken, is an awesome example of what subtle, and well done rhyming can achieve.
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, 10
And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. 15
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
On December 19 2006 05:03 Gandalf wrote: I'd like my fellow TL.netters to critique the poem I've pasted below. It was written by an Indian(Hindu, from India) friend of mine, and English isnt his first language.
"Lonely for You..."
I've reread all your letters And kissed your photograph; I'm trying to remember The funny way you laugh.
The many times you held me when things turned upside down; You always raised my spirits and smiled away my frown.
But where are you today, dear, when I am missing you? I need to hear you whisper the love I know is true.
If you are there and hear me, please bring me your sweet smile. I long to hold you, darling, for just a little while
One more thing. He posted this in some forum and one of the posters replied: "your poem has too much rhyme". I dont get that. What exactly is "too much rhyme"? Or is this poster just trying to be a smart ass?
Well basically the rhymes interfere with the imagery too much. It cant be really consistent and personal because of this. The rhyme scheme sucks some of the personality out of the poem I think.
Plus, its a bit like when someone uses cliches - too general.
It starts off really nice and has a good feel. It certainly isnt a bad poem by any stretch. As a second language poem it is really great. But like the other guy, I think the abundance of rhyme kills the flow and the personality of the poem.
On December 19 2006 19:21 A3iL3r0n wrote: Maybe my post wasn't clear. Rhyming is difficult to pull off in a way that adds to the poem and doesn't detract from it. Robert Frost's famous poem, The Road Not Taken, is an awesome example of what subtle, and well done rhyming can achieve.
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, 10
And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. 15
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
Yeah true. But yo ushould attempt to rhyme whenever possible. Like change "me and you" to "you and me" to make something rhyme with "Why does he" is totally simple and it doesn't change meanings.
I don't know why sonnet rhymes like abab cdcd efef gg Strange... Chinese poem is like; aaaa bbbb cccc dddd and it flows much better
You should NOT try to use rhyme whenever possible. Use it when it serves a purpose, or if writing a certain style, but the best poetry usually does not follow hard rhyme schemes. A sonnet is a special case of poetry in which iambic pentameter is combined with the abab cdcd efef gg rhyme scheme. They're both pretty important, even though the king of the sonnet, Shakespeare, broke the pentameter "rule" like every other sonnet he wrote. Here's his best one, sonnet 116.
Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Goddamn, that's a good sonnet if I've ever read one.
You know what I think is funny? How everyone thinks that "The Road Less Taken"'s narrator is saying that he thinks the road he took was better because it was less traveled. He's not saying that. He states that both roads were as good as the other, and the more travelled one even looked like it was better. But his choice to take the less traveled road made all the difference. Not the road itself.
Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken sie abends wir trinken sie mittags und morgens wir trinken sie nachts wir trinken und trinken wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete er schreibt es und tritt vor das Haus und es blitzen die Sterne er pfeift seine Rüden herbei er pfeift seine Juden hervor läßt schaufeln ein Grab in der Erde er befiehlt uns spielt auf nun zum Tanz
Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts wir trinken dich morgens und mittags wir trinken dich abends wir trinken und trinken Ein Mann wohnt im Haus der spielt mit den Schlangen der schreibt der schreibt wenn es dunkelt nach Deutschland dein goldenes Haar Margarete Dein aschenes Haar Sulamith wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lüften da liegt man nicht eng
Er ruft stecht tiefer ins Erdreich ihr einen ihr andern singet und spielt er greift nach dem Eisen im Gurt er schwingts seine Augen sind blau stecht tiefer die Spaten ihr einen ihr andern spielt weiter zum Tanz auf
Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts wir trinken dich mittags und morgens wir trinken dich abends wir trinken und trinken ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete dein aschenes Haar Sulamith er spielt mit den Schlangen Er ruft spielt süßer den Tod der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland er ruft streicht dunkler die Geigen dann steigt ihr als Rauch in die Luft dann habt ihr ein Grab in den Wolken da liegt man nicht eng
Schwarze Milch der Frühe wir trinken dich nachts wir trinken dich mittags der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland wir trinken dich abends und morgens wir trinken und trinken der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland sein Auge ist blau er trifft dich mit bleierner Kugel er trifft dich genau ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete er hetzt seine Rüden auf uns er schenkt uns ein Grab in der Luft er spielt mit den Schlangen und träumet der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland
dein goldenes Haar Margarete dein aschenes Haar Sulamith