Thread: Path of Dirt and Weeds

Like a beautiful rosebush
armed with hidden thorns,
my life looks rosy while
wandering down the path of weeds.

As dreams slowly percolate
in my once pretentious mind
they steam on my back burner
now as I'm smeared by life's dirt.

Nothing makes sense in this tangled
cobweb called consciousness,
it's like a swirling dust devil
in an unstable, desert land.

I was crying silently inside
while screaming loudly outside,
seeking refuge from the phantom
who stole all of my being.

Now I wander down life's winding path
no longer dwelling on the
tumbleweeds of thought.

Like should be erased from every poet's dictionary, or at least physically prevented from being the first word in a poem - just my totally prejudiced and personal opinion. The use of Like is not a match for your ability as a poet.

A beautiful rosebush armed
with hidden thorns,
my life looks rosy while
wandering down the path of weeds.

Still leaves the problem - Life can still be wonderful while walking a path of weeds, it's just that they are everybody elses weeds not yours; but I think you mean that you're looking serene while paddling like mad beneath the surface, and that the weeds are your problem. Wandering is a cosy word, a word of relaxation, a careless word, it lacks the tension I think you may be after, perhaps:

A beautiful rosebush armed
with hidden thorns,
though my life looks rosy
my path is strewn with weeds.


In the second stanza I'm not sure that pretentious is the right word, someone who is pretentious would be in denial and wouldn't be so self aware, think Hyacinth Bucket.

Nothing makes sense in this tangled
cobweb called consciousness,
a swirling dust devil ------------------------ You can lose the it's like in this line, we get this as you are talking about your consciousness.
in an unstable, desert land.

I'm beginning to feel like Bowdler, but keep it tight!

I was crying inside
screaming outside,
hiding from the phantom --------------------- Perhaps an alliteration here, phantoms can't physically steal, how about the burglar who stole my being....?
who stole my being.

I'm puzzled by the last stanza as there is no lead in, just a sudden change to a point where you are relaxed, laid back, not bothered, but you give us no trigger for this change. Alternatively, leave us hanging, give us no resolution, you owe us nothing.

Cindy, the sentiment of your poem is clearly about an inner struggle as to how the narrator fits in the scheme of his/her life which is burdensome.

Firstly, I see no problem beginning the poem with “Like”

I’ll be throwing out ideas during the course of this review because I think connections need to be made and with less scattered imagery, though very good imagery.

rosebush
armed with hidden thorns,
my life looks rosy while
wandering down the path of weeds.

The ital. Too similar words too close together.

I would suggest just a few changes along this line

‘Like a beautiful rosebush,
the thorns in my life
are prettily obscured
while I wander down
the path of weeds.”
　
As dreams slowly percolate
in my once pretentious mind
they steam on my back burner
now as I'm smeared by life's dirt.

Hope, permeates, percolates
on the back burner;
my sleeping mind.
The dream steams
like the vapor of healing waters.

Nothing makes sense in this tangled
cobweb called consciousness,
it's like a swirling dust devil
in an unstable, desert land.

I like cobweb called consciousness and a nice alliteration. I would eliminate "desert" as it seems to come out from nowhere.

I was crying silently inside
while screaming loudly outside,
seeking refuge from the phantom
who stole all of my being.

"Inside, crying
outside, screaming
at the phantom
who stole my being"

Here you have an economy of words and a suble ryhme going on.

Now I wander down life's winding path
no longer dwelling on the
tumbleweeds of thought.

I bellowed at a ghost,
no longer dwelling on
tumbleweed thoughts.

I wander down life's winding path
where the rosebushes are lush.


I thought this needed two stanzas to make the ending more powerful. Note that I re-introduced the rosebushes in a different light. Tied up the beginning with the end.

Cindy, I hope I've been of help and you've been too long gone. Don't let it happen again! More!

Hugs, Laurie

Bloggsworth,

Thanks for your comments. I've seen the work "like" used many time in poetry, so heavily considered using it before I wrote. I also used the word "wandering" to convey a message of mindlessness, to go astray. I don't consider it a "cozy" word.

I'll take out "like" in the third stanza.
"a swirling dust devil"

seeking refuge from the phantom
who stole all of my being.

I'm trying to free myself of this ghostly past who stole me of who I was. And that is where the last stanza comes in. Sort of a rebirth.

Are there a lot of poets in Colorado?

Hi Laurie,

Thanks for your refreshing comments. Most of them I do like and will consider. I knew when I posted this poem that it did need work and was/am open for suggestions. I'll post again when I re-write it.

Cindy

A few.

David Mason, our poet laureate and a professor of mine, for starters. I liked this. I think SM has given a great launching point for adjustments.

On the use of the word like. Similes use the word; like, as, then ect. Similes are one of the devices of poetry. It might not be best for it to be the first word. To use a simile you have to have a direct comparison between to things. I think your two first line would have to be rev. to make a valid simile. I liked the imagery presented. The poem had a smooth transition through to the end. Good read.

Thanks Jeffrey and Squalid Glass, for your comments.

Like a beautiful rosebush
the thorns of my life
are pleasantly obscured
while I wander down
the path of weeds.

Wishes permeate, percolate
on the back burner;
my sleeping mind.
The dreams steam
as vapors in healing waters.

Nothing makes sense in this tangled
cobweb called consciousness,
like a swirling dust devil
in an unstable land
I'm smeared by life's dirt.

As I cry silently inside,
outside I scream
at the phantom
who stole my being.

I bellowed at a ghost,
no longer dwelling on
those tumbleweed thoughts.

I wander down life's winding path
where the rosebushes are lush.

Cindy, your re-write is much more cohesive and am glad to see that you've kept your imagery alive in this piece.

Really, a very effective change. More? Laurie

Thanks, Laurie for your kind comments and your valid ideas.

I will produce more very soon.

I'm glad you kept the simile. This is a great poem - it is powerful, but soft. No punches. I love that. Nice to have another sunshine stater in the poetry forum!

Thanks, Squalid Glass. I'm working on my imagery.