WordBeast

Winter,
and the sky
is a herd
of restless polar bears
poised to unleash
their fearsome fury
onto the nervous world below.

A moment's cruel silence
is blown open
as the angry bears
howl down
a fierce blast
of snow-packed rage
onto the street
outside my warm sanctuary,
whipping my windows with
wicked tails
of white wind,
devouring my world whole
in one great icy roar!


I wrote this poem a year ago, and set it aside because there was something about it that I felt was missing, or something about it that should be changed, but couldn't figure out what that "something missing or in need of change" was. Any thoughts, anybody?


WB :>

__________________
My karma just ran over your dogma.

Scratches

Hmm... I think something about this poem makes it read rather like a paragraph from ordinary prose split into different lines. Maybe you should try varying the pace a bit, and breaking the sentences up more?

__________________

Never get so attached to a poem
you forget truth that lacks lyricism
and never draw so close to the heat
that you forget that you must eat
- En Gallop, Joanna Newsom

WordBeast

Hmm...I get your point, Scratches. Now that I read it over, some of it does read like prose, come to think of it. That is such a bad habit of mine! I often write prosey poetry without realising it. And now I know exactly why this escaped me when I wrote it: I didn't follow the golden rule of writing poetry---I forgot to read it aloud! That would've told me in a millisecond that it was sounding more like prose than poetry.

Thanks for that, Scratcherino. :>

__________________
My karma just ran over your dogma.