I love the mood here. Dark and foggy. I'm not the greatest judge of poetry, so I kind of go by whether it strikes a chord within me, and this one does. So in my mind, it's a great poem. I like the feeling that is produced when I picture a young woman standing in murky darkness and feels no fear, but a strength from within that sustains her. I like this one very much!
This is a beautiful poem, lots of emotion. Expertly written and a pleasure to read. And thanks for your comments on ( HOPE) they along with your friendship are much appreciated.
Posted 16 Years Ago
2 of 2 people found this review constructive.
My advice, work on the title. The title isnt original and I'm very surprized it caught my eye.
The poem itself, I loved. To me this poem is about overcoming a past fear and realizing how irrational it was. I dont think it could have been better worded.
Well done. [:
The is beautiful Elizabeth. My kind of poem all the way. I love the free-verse "story" that was told here, and the fog.....great reference for what you described. Maybe remove the periods at the end all together? I think it'd make it flow better, as one big continuous thought.
It's a very wonderful piece. :) I'm in the mood for this today, and I'm glad I chose this to read!
I like the idea of this piece...the strength that comes from within shining through, forcing away fear and doubt. I also found that there was a sort of "jaded" tone in the speaker's voice, so I see a juxtaposition of inner strength and simply being jaded by life's experiences...it's a duality that really made me think. Does she feel no fear because of her strength, or is it less "strength" and more the fact that she doesn't care anymore (mainly I got this from the lines "All of her heroes are long dead./But heroes only fall from their pedestals./They have become as unnecessary as fear.")
On a technical note...there are some punctuation problems with this that do break up the flow a little bit...very easy to fix, though. Something like this:
Somewhere in the fog, she stands alone.
The trees and sky are obscured by thin wisps of milky air. (,)
But though the fog closes in, no fear envelops her.
Her heartbeat is slow and sure. (either ; or a , here)
No tears fall. (,)No doubt lingers.(.)--some might say that periods are more "correct", but they stop the flow)
There is only the dark. (maybe "there is only darkness")
And she is filled with the certainty that only this kind of solitude brings. (if you start with "and" put a comma at the end of the previous stanza, or maybe and elipsis)
This road hasn't changed since childhood. (,)
But she is no longer the child that walked these paths. (,)
The doubt that once wracked her soul has been replaced by quiet resolution. (,)
And the knowledge that salvation comes from within is firm in her mind.
The ghosts that once haunted her have been replaced by silence.
All of her heroes are long dead. (,)
But heroes only fall from their pedestals. (, because it's a continuation of a thought)
They have become as unnecessary as fear.
There is nothing here that scares her, anymore. (I would maybe separate this line from the last stanza and have it as a stand alone ending...just my opinion, though)
--So, that's a QUICK edit, but you get the idea. Nicely done.
The paradox is that I expected some scary or dark poem - but the contrary it is. Fog seems to symbolize self-confidence, which is truly original in itself.
What a wonderful job setting up the feelings of being lost in a familiar place... sometimes it is hard to move forward when the world changes so fast and we get comfortable with the way things are... sometimes you can't go home, well at least the home you once new... wonderfully written.
I love the mood here. Dark and foggy. I'm not the greatest judge of poetry, so I kind of go by whether it strikes a chord within me, and this one does. So in my mind, it's a great poem. I like the feeling that is produced when I picture a young woman standing in murky darkness and feels no fear, but a strength from within that sustains her. I like this one very much!
I am Alice through the looking glass...I mix my metaphors with barbiturates. I take my mania with a glass of milk and I rarely look before crossing the street. Walk a mile in my mary janes, friend.
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