#1
An improvised poem that I edited a bit afterwards. Quite dark.

Spiders

No wonder, then, under the
bridge by the riverside in dead
Wales, under the riverside,
bridge spiders crawl and children
wince - the city is mince.

Webbed foot clammy in the damp
tunnel clinging to the cold stone
underfoot on the dead soil and a
weeping cry the wind is dying down
the sun is getting thin.
I see you have a piece of cake
oh today's the day I have to get
the eggs I need a plastic box.

I have earned none of this
but afternoon tea and
gravy in the hot wet sun.
We struggle in webs
for the last currant bun,
falling through ancient dust,
and webs that linger on the Earth's crust.
#2
I really have nothing to say about this piece, just a piece of advice. If you want the guys around hear to really help you out you will have to give them more in depth critiques than "nice! I liked it" I just thought I'd let you know since I noticed you commented on a bunch of pieces with short little quips like that hoping to get a reply. Anyway, keep writing
#3
Quote by bluesybilly
I really have nothing to say about this piece, just a piece of advice. If you want the guys around hear to really help you out you will have to give them more in depth critiques than "nice! I liked it" I just thought I'd let you know since I noticed you commented on a bunch of pieces with short little quips like that hoping to get a reply. Anyway, keep writing


Sorry, I did try to give valuable criticism. Just because they were short doesn't make them empty of all meaning. I wasn't particularly hoping for replies, I just thought I'd have a read of some pieces - I'll try to give better feedback in future, anyway.
Last edited by OKSauce at Apr 7, 2013,