Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Poetry

>Shes beautiful, but I know shes nothing.

Who's she?

>We spent all night in my bed,
>holding each other
>and talking,
>but I could never get past the point of comfort.

Go deeper. Show us this. Don't just tell us. Put us in this moment.

>She held me tight,
>her blues eyes glimmered as she
>rested her chin on my chest,
>smiling at me.

Better, but still seems very surface, as though you're telling us on the morning after. Put us in the moment.

>I wanted her, but there was nothing more
>than physical attraction.

from "but there was..." on could easily be replaced with an image and make the poem that much stronger. I wanted her like...

>I just couldn't go past that point.
>How could I just have sex for sex sake,
>and not feel guilt when morning comes,

Dunno'...let us feel this instead of telling us, and maybe we could answer that question.

>and I find those same shimmering blues
>staring me right in the eyes,
>looking for more than just attraction.

Again, show us this.

>I guess I just couldn't feel,
>but there was nothing in her that could bring
>emotion to the drama that poured out of her mouth.

More images needed here. Instead of telling us you couldn't feel, let us feel nothing...

>Drama, drama, drama,
>as if the world revolved around it,

Possible litany if you follow the first two dramas with "as if" statements. Build to the last one.

>I felt void of myself even.
>There was just nothing there.
>And even after looking at her delicate face
>and the perched mouth,
>which would lure anyone into kissing it
>I saw nothing.

Oh, more...go deeper into that face. Sink down into it, and really let this "she" have it.

>We kissed for a while, but I couldn't bear to go on.

What did it feel like? What was it like? Why couldn't you go on?

>my mind was racing the whole time.
>I wanted to just grab a hold of her and shake her,
>I would of done anything to get more than drama
>flowing through her thought,
>but I gave up just in looking at her,
>teeth all white,
>those red pout lips caressing mine.

You saw all this?


>I gave in, the passion took me
>and left me rocked and torn when things
>were said and done.

More...what did it feel like? Up the images here.

>What will come when dawn arises?

Don't really need the last line. Back up what's happened before with solid imagery, and we'll understand the ambiguity of the morning.