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Doomed
Stars strung like Christmas lights
across a midnight sky
Moon looking more like
a child's beach ball
lightening tears a jagged line
fabric torn
then thoughts bleed through
and tumble
to late
they have run amok
misbehaving children
gone wild
no self control
memories flood
doomed
Editing stage:
Content level:
Not Explicit Content
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Comments
c lynn brooks
Sat, 2021-05-15 15:36
Mark
Thank you kind sir
Chrys
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atorn
Sat, 2021-05-15 15:33
interesting
I love the Christmas tree lights opening line leading to the closing line "Doomed" creates a wicked journey
c lynn brooks
Sat, 2021-05-15 15:36
Andrew
Thank you for the visit and comment
Chrys
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Candlewitch
Sun, 2021-05-16 08:47
dear Chrys,
both Steve and & read your poem. he said that it starts out with a happy state of mind and over time spirals down in depression where it bottoms out. I agree. let us know if we are wrong. I also think that this poem needs to be fleshed out a little with more fact and detail.(to make it more clear) you are on to something, here. you have the base for a great poem!
*hugs, Steve and Cat
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c lynn brooks
Sun, 2021-05-16 10:51
Cat
point is the memories are doomed to stay with and haunt me. No I wouldn't agree it starts out happy and ends depressed. How would you flesh it out, I thought it was complete as a complete thought
Chrys
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Candlewitch
Tue, 2021-05-18 15:18
dear Chrys,
on rereading, I find out I am wrong about fleshing it out as it is all that it should be. the opening line makes me think happy thoughts, as Christmas/Yule, is a happy time in our household. the poem is great as it is, but tell me, should I worry?
love ya, Cat
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When someone reads your work
And responds, please be courteous
And reply in kind, thanks.
atorn
Sun, 2021-05-16 16:36
From the opening line to the last
The promise of the opening line that spirals into doom as the work progresses is pure genius I love how the lines draw you in with pretty images and by the end the other shoe drops along with my jaw and I am hooked
c lynn brooks
Mon, 2021-05-17 09:35
Adrew
Thank you once again. One poem did all that
Chrys
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