Friday, June 5, 2009

I dont like this one....

Here is one of my poems I don't like, and yet I have no idea what to do to it.

Night Comes

My vision fades into haze,
a fuzzy twilight
where it should be broad day.
No father to guide me
no companion beside me,
I lay still, alone.
My bread has been broken
and handed out until
the only thing left is one stale piece
that even wrinkled beggar’s
hands would not take.
It is wasted now
as I have wasted away.
Finally, enveloped in the pitch,
I fall backward down a deep shaft,
the opening, filled with light,
shrinking into the distance.

By: T.J. Seale
Copyright 2007 Thomas Taylor


  1. Crazy because I'm no poet: how about beginning with "the only thing left" and ending with "and handed out until ..." Switch the bottom up to the top.

  2. TJ,

    I think this is a good poem, but I can see why maybe you don't like it. It encompasses alot of inner turmoil and anguish- topics that I gather you don't like visiting much (assuming that I know your personality a bit there, so I could be wrong).

    But it is a good poem, interesting choice of words and thoughts. Just my opinion though ;)

  3. Susan- Thanks for the suggestion, I had not considered changing the order before, I think I will try moving some stuff around. I think it will free it up for me to add more to it.

    Wingseeker- I am glad you like it despite my dissatisfaction. You liking it makes me like it a little more however. Thanks for commenting, I love that you always have something to say.


  4. Mr. Seale,

    Have faith in your writing! Or if not, have truth. And if that doesn't work give it time. But if you don't find any of those other things, there is always magic... sometimes that's where writing comes from.

  5. Dear Seale, why didn´t you like this poem? It is a nice one. Keep on writing! It is a catarse!
    Best wishes,

  6. Hey Rosana,

    I don't like this poem, because I don't feel I demonstrate any movement; there is no turn, no change. I typically try to write dynamic poetry that sets up an image and then changes it or creates juxtapose images and merges them. I feel like this poem is too easy to summarize. This poem is about death. I don't like when you can that easily define something, when it is not at all elusive.

    Thanks Rosana as always,