Soliciting suggestions

[erise]

Hello, this is my first time in the poetry forum. Would you mind me barging in asking for some feedback on a thing I'm writing? If that's ok, bring it on. I've got a thick skin.




The keys to my kingdom, seven deadly spells
I kneel by these roots, lull worries to slumber
I sing sacrilegious of Avalon's bells
and pray for respite, just a little bit number

A little bit less of that skin tearing flame
A little bit slower to drain when I'm bleeding
Maybe I'll sleep once I'm used to the pain
but Avalon, please, send the demons receding

Those creatures of bile sneering hope into fear
of ashes and insects that buzz in my centre
They suck up the light, riding high on each tear
Expel from exposure, forbid them to enter

Come fairies, come ghosts, come delusional dream
fill my void with your song until all that I feel
is your stardust parade and my senses that scream
Until neither is solid, and just sleep is real

 

[ag2507]

The keys to my kingdom, seven deadly spells
I kneel by these roots, lull worries to slumber
I sing sacrilegious of Avalon's bells
and pray for respite, just a little bit number

A little bit less of that skin tearing flame
A little bit slower to drain when I'm bleeding
Maybe I'll sleep once I'm used to the pain
but Avalon, please, send the demons receding

Those creatures of bile sneering hope into fear
of ashes and insects that buzz in my centre
They suck up the light, riding high on each tear
Expel from exposure, forbid them to enter

Come fairies, come ghosts, come delusional dream
fill my void with your song until all that I feel
is your stardust parade and my senses that scream
Until neither is solid, and just sleep is real

Barge away -

i'm going to start by saying not bad. You have the basics of a good poem there. It is a little obscure but I assume you are a dying knight? What follows are some disconnected thoughts...

You've chozen a somewhat galloping meter so the poem rushes headlong into sleep/death. the subject may merit a meter that is a little slower paced. having chozen a meter and style you need to stick to it unless there is a very good reason not to, yet even the first line breaks the meter: it needs a connective instead of the comma.

Your biggest problem is is with the rhyme. It is an easy trap to fall into but with a bit of persistence you can fix it. Firstly some of the rhymes feel contrived and secondly, you've allowed each rhyming word to terminate a phrase (in musical terms, every line ends with a perfect cadence, a stop): for some of the inner rhymes, and even across stanzas, you can let the rhyming word be in the middle of a phrase - strangely, once you get used to it it is easier as you have greater flexibility of word choice in the middle of a phrase than you do the end. You did it nicely in the last stanza.

And your bile is vile (sorry, couldn't resist) you need to think a bit about word choice and the use of bile here sounds out of place. There are a couple of things I would avoid if you can. Try not to borrow metaphors or quotes. It's very hard not to: for example I would never use "seven deadly spells". nice alliteration, it's been done. The seven spells are clearly key so I would look for a synonym for deadly that had more than one meaning and which, if practical, I could link to another idea in the same or a different stanza.

Finally, there is no link between the stanzas that makes the poem a cohesive whole. I really didn't see the point of most of the middle two lines in the last stanza so you have lots of room to refer back to ideas from the first. and while I think about it, bells and spells, that's been done too.

Oh, yes, and "Little bit number"? Didn't get that at all.

A

 

[erise]

Barge away -

i'm going to start by saying not bad. You have the basics of a good poem there. It is a little obscure but I assume you are a dying knight?

Almost. Maybe I should have given you the background info to this. It's for a character in a novel I'm writing. He is a bit of a weirdo with a Victorian fetish (In fact, he blends all kind of styles and influences like the manic he is.), so he writes, among other things, these short stories, punk rock songs, anagrams, riddles and slightly archaic poems about what he experiece in life. The novel is essentially his diary, so it doesn't all have to make sense, but this poem is supposed to have been written when he is bed bound, in pain and depressed after an accident.

The problem is, he is supposed to be quite good at it, and I've never really written any old school poetry before, so my obstacle is to make a few that are plausibly well written. I'll have to learn the ropes as I go along, I guess.

You gave me a lot of good pointers there. I'll give it some time and see what I come up with. Thank you.