view on my poetry

roxychix

hi just wondering could give there view on my poetry just enjoy writing


Alterations
There was a time when she would think about how her life would turn out,
She was always a day dreamer, someone who imagined it would all be great,
She may not have dreamed of the big white dress, the picket fence and the 2 point 4 children,
She just assumed that honesty and truth would always be on her side.

As a child, she was always taught to never lie, cheat or steal,
To take what you were given and to never drink or smoke,
But as the years began to pass and obstacles were thrown in her way,
She chose a path which she thought would lead her the right way,
She had just assumed that fate had dealt her with this hand but nothing ever stays the same.

She may have went to college and got the sacred degree but maybe it wasn’t what she wanted,
Just what others had told her needed to be achieved
- “You’ll get nowhere in life without that piece of paper”
Yet she did not listen to her own heart, she had done what others had implied.
Hence this was who she became.

As she continued on this journey, things began to change, maybe not for the better
But to the outside world things seemed great, achieving and exceling in every field she touched.
She herself knew what was wrong, she had began to be someone she to would hate.
Saying what was needed just to get ahead, saying things they wanted to hear so they would like her more.

She had this need to be be accepted and being herself would not work,
Inventing this imaginary life which when she was young had always hoped to have.
Not being herself was what had lead her to this place and the person she had become.
The rules she had learnt as a child would not stand to her now.
She herself had created this monster and maybe it was too late.

Then one bright morning, she arose and decided then and there that things needed to change,
She looked around at all she owned and realised not any of it was true,
The house she owned, the car she drove and the clothes she wore were only things.
None of it really mattered , just materials things. She had noone there to love her and noone who really cared.
Even though the people in the office assumed she had the perfect life.

She walked down her marble stairs and as she was about to leave,
There hung in the hall right beside the door was that sacred degree,
She blamed it for her entire life, for everything that went wrong;
She realised then that those who had loved her,
Had wanted nothing but the best and had wanted her to do so well.

She lifted up her umbrella and as she stepped outside it began rain,
She opened it up and smiled to the sky and with one splash she was gone.

Insect Overlord

Reads much more like a piece of prose than a piece of poetry. Might work better if you re-structured it into a short story. Not bad, just not particularly poetic.

roxychix wrote: »

hi just wondering could give there view on my poetry just enjoy writing


Alterations
There was a time when she would think about how her life would turn out.
She was always a day dreamer, someone who imagined it would all be great.
She may not have dreamed of the big white dress, the picket fence and the 2 point 4 children,
She just assumed that honesty and truth would always be on her side.

As a child, she was always taught to never lie, cheat or steal,
To take what she was given and to never drink or smoke,
But as the years began to pass and obstacles were thrown in her way,
She chose a path which she thought would lead her the right way,
She had just assumed that fate had dealt her with this hand.
But nothing ever stays the same.

She may have gone to college and got the sacred degree, but maybe it wasn’t what she wanted,
Rather what others had told her needed to be achieved
- “You’ll get nowhere in life without that piece of paper”
Yet she did not listen to her own heart, she did what others had implied (implied doesn't work here Perhaps replace it with "suggested").
Hence this was whom she became.

As she continued on this journey, things began to change, maybe not for the better
But to the outside world things seemed great, with her achieving and excelling in every field she touched.
She herself knew what was wrong, she had begun to become someone she would hate.
Saying what was needed just to get ahead, saying things they wanted to hear so they would like her more.

She had this need to be be accepted and being herself would not work.
Inventing this imaginary life which when she was young had always hoped to have. (there's a confusion of tenses here. Perhaps replace it with In childhood she'd invented an imaginary life which she'd longed to achieve
Not being herself was what had lead her to this place and the person she had become.
The rules she had learnt as a child would not stand to her now.
She herself had created this monster. maybe it was too late. Was it now, perhaps, too late?

Then one bright morning, she arose and decided then and there that things needed to change,
She looked around at all she owned and realised not any of it was true,
The house she owned, the car she drove and the clothes she wore were only things.
None of it really mattered., just materials things. She had noone there to love her and noone who really cared.
Even though the people in the office assumed she had the perfect life.

She walked down her marble stairs and as she was about to leave,
There hung in the hall right beside the door was she
saw that sacred degree,
She blamed it for her entire life, for everything that went wrong;
She realised then that those who had loved her,
Had wanted nothing but the best and had wanted her to do so well.

She lifted up her umbrella and as she stepped outside it began rain,
She opened it up and smiled to the sky and with one splash she was gone.

Hope that helps a bit. Keep posting, it's always great to see new writers in here

pickarooney

It's not really a poem as such, is it?

roxychix

ur probably rite

roxychix

well here goes two more
prob not poetry and tell me what ye all think
I left it too late
I found out you were seeing someone else
I give out too many mixed signals
I blame myself the most

Yet i was the first to send that drunken text
You replied
“you’d love to see those gladrags”
But that was about it

I see you everyday
I avoid you if i can
I mean it took you way to long
Now it is too late

Most of the time we get on, have a laugh and joke
Others you could cut the tension with a knife
I find it oh so hard
Its like we both know

So this is it
Its ended before it started
I’ll keep on tickin over
And not Dream of what could have been

Tomorrow I will try and smile
But i will not flirt
Three years is just too long
I will never say how i really feel;
So sin e an sceal.
Waiting:
I saw him again today,
He smiled as he walked passed,
He has never uttered a single word,
His presence has left a mark.

I saw him again today,
He nodded as he walked passed,
He always carries coffee,
His Independant rolled under his arm and not that tabloid trash.

I saw him again today,
He said “hello” as he walked passed,
His tie was a little looser than usual,
He looked a little stressed.

I saw him again today,
He said “goodbye” as he walked passed,
He carried a cardboard box,
He looked irritable but then he smiled as he looked back.

I didn’t see him again today,
I think our time has passed

pickarooney

That's definitely poetry It's got metre, rhyme, intrigue and even irony

His Independant rolled under his arm and not that tabloid trash.

One small thing - it's "walked past" not "walked passed". "Our time has passed" is used correctly however.