So, my poetry portfolio has to be in for Tuesday and I could do with IF's help.
Basically I've got to write 120 lines of poetry. I've got most of it done but I'd love your guys opinions and and criticisms and I think it'd really help me to get a better mark
These poems are in the latter draft stages and I think some are almost finished and I've put some of my own comments on there which I'd like your feedback to.
Any criticisms or typos or anything that you guys think could improve any one of these poems would be really valuable to me.
Cheers guys
Addiction
1
It takes just four minutes to make you.
You are as dark as newborns pupils,
And you sooth me,
With your bitter velvet fingers
That pull on my motor skills.
2
How evil you are.
But all is forgotten when you strike my lips,
When you press my shoulders free
And vibrate my eyes
Until ecstasy is achieved.
3
My tongue aches for you.
I wish to cease control,
And sway into a stupor
Until speech is a passer by
Tutting at my slouching grip on reality.
4
You are the person.
And when we meet for 1,
Or when you chastise me for 2,
Or when we consume too much of 3,
We always end up here, at 4.
For Milkman
You visit my house in the early hours of every weekday morning.
Before the sun rises to melt the frost stricken ground
and the birds twitter quietly to themselves
as they take to the skies for another day of song.
While people lie in their beds with their heads full of worry and despair,
you float down empty streets wearing a blue anorak and thick gloves to keep out the biting cold that tease the end of your toes as you crack the frozen flags of another house.
Although your job may be simple.
Although it may be unrewarding.
Although it might be lonesome.
You make up a part of the routine.
Without you my coffee would be bitter.
Without you I’d be malnourished.
Without you I’d be missing the most important meal of the day.
So when I see you in the morning I’ll be sure to say hello.
And when you come round on a Wednesday night to collect your three pounds fifty,
I’ll make sure you’re alright.
Because the bottle you leave outside my front door every morning
isn’t just for my cereal.
It’s a hello,
good morning,
let’s start the day together,
and make sure it's a good one.
Funeral Buffet
Dressed like the mob, family and friends file out of the room.
My aunts carry plates of food
wrapped in cling film
that I had been too nervous to assault on my own.
Egg mayo,
ham salad,
beef and tuna.
Couscous
humus (LOSE THIS LINE MAYBE TO HELP RHYTHM?)
dinky sausage rolls and cucumber.
A worth spread,
but no one else is really hungry.
My Existence
not sure if this should go in to portfolio
Isn’t it vitality, clarity and
immortality that drives us,
Binds us,
Drives us?
Our essence,
Our being,
That gives us reason to live on,
Breath,
and take the next step.
I spent the evening with you.
We wrapped ourselves us in each others
arms, lips and dreams.
And in that bittersweet moment,
I lost it all.
My essence.
My clarity.
And darling, I lost it all to you
Stubbed Out Ashtrays
HIGHLIGHTED TEXT INDICATES POSSIBLE CLICHÉS
We always talked about leaving.
Packing up our shitty little lives and taking off in the middle of the night.
You’d dream aloud of Beach houses in Cornwall,
Youth hostels in Eastern Europe.
And I dreamt of waking up to a foreign sunrise and a cigarette breakfast.
Balcony light spilling through torn curtains
Illuminating golden hair, splayed across pillows while you slept.
It was but a dream of our adolescent idiocies.
Forgotten, along with the rest of me.
And now, I wake up alone. Not in the suburbs or Paris,
Or an apartment overlooking the Ramblas,
But in the state you left me.
And the only gold that shines in my life is the burning cherry.
Like the orange sun that never bore the sweat of our skin
Browning like the filter
Stubbed out.
In ashtrays.
