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Golden Leaves in Crimson Hands (Part II) II. The time it’s come To be undone One crackle at a time The ice it melts Fear runs about Naked truth is mine Drip one drip two And three and four Till inside out Frozen no more Each drip gives breath To a new life Burning sights Into the mind Recalling times I left behind Each gruesome tale Weaves into one A life of horror, She’s come undone But who will put her back together? |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2010-11-27 18:06:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
There appears to be story behind the piece. I often wonder, even when I place an autobiographical inference in a piece, whether the story is needed, or if the reflection in the verse is satisfactory for the image.
"each gruesome tale" now there is a line the leaves on to wonder. Self doubt can often account for the image of need, but usually the external world will accent and/or devour the innocense when it is left to be attributed.
This is more powerful than the first chapter. I can issue; the restructuring of humpty dumpty is always up to the glue that is used. Beauty remains an internal quality that speaks externally to any who are looking for it.
A very powerful vision.