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Click herewhen white is the color of freedom
nothing leaves a shadow like blood
tremors loose speech
free silence
make reality
gentle empty spaces filled with people passing through
toss them out with my mind
righteous hatred
rings a rusty bell
sounds in circles
finger try to pluck pomegranates
from bush
fruitless
barren
stripped
mind bleeding drops of memory
watering wracked flesh
sprouted young wistful wishful
ripped out with each soil
less space left each harvest
this sounds more like a poem about infertility than PMS. if it is, it's on the nose.
An interesting metaphorical piece that most women could appreciate, even if it doesn't send them to the brink of rage. Third line, did you mean to use lose instead of loose?
Write an essay on what's troubling you, sugar. This nonsense just ain't makin' the grade. :(
The first stanza was great (esp the imagery in the first two lines) but the momentum seems to drop off after that.
These lines, for instance:
'ripped out with each soil
less space left each harvest'
sound cliched. This metaphor isn't fresh and offers the reader little to think about.
A good effort that could be great with some reworking