#1
I might as well post every now and again, just to show everyone I'm still writing. I won't be posting my songs and poems as often as I was before (I think I was on 8 a month, perhaps more) because I'm taking my time writing, rather than rushing everything. So this is a poem and it follows a basic plot, although it does jump from one place to another and back again, but I meant that. I have to warn some of you, it is a tad long.

The sentry stands idly ferninst the gate
Leaning on the pillar with his scabbard in his sock
The knife?s hilt resting lazily in his half-clenched fist
The doddering cat woman leaves her hovel with her felines in tow
Meowing and purring in the dank, wasted streets

?Wud one care to purchase a singular feline frae me??
The man to whom she is addressing stares down at her in disgust
Before showing her a clean set of heels
The old woman, aged in her advanced years
Bends down wearily on one knee and sings to her only companions

The articulate squire rises agitatedly from his bed
And scratches his splinter-infested head
?For the morning hath come and I am awake
Spare me this life?s work and I shall pay handsomely
For a bucket of water I may wash my tangled hair?

?May the world overlook my unsavoury name,? declares the piper to the apathetic mirror
It swivels its invisible eyes up, round, and looks in another direction
Reflecting the doorway, where once it was empty now houses a dark figure
Clutching at a blade in his right hand, facing the window
And now come the cries of the cats from the street as the old woman walks by

Stalking the shadows, the pickpocket rears his ugly head
And with a snatch of his hand, he has her purse
She carries on unknowing as the boy returns to the shadow
To pass the moneys between himself and the sceadugengan
For they will one day rule the world

?Hiv you any moneys for a poor, bego?en soul??
?I have not, poor peasant, but I know someone who has
The man lives in the castle made of mortar and stone
And guards his treasure with a sword made of pure fool?s gold
But alas as you are who you are you will not get his gold?

The rich man turns away and leaves the beggar be
And begins rhyming nonsense with nonsense as he heads back to work
The shape shifter follows as a busy worker bee
The murderous cloud is following close behind
As the cloud cover thickens and threatens the world with a superfluity

In the brothel, the poor girls work their shift
But as the shadow enters, they forget their purpose in life
Screaming and cussing they split like a herd of elephants
Fleeing from the watchful eyes and advances as a pack of lionesses
But the lionesses have better eyesight and they will gain their quarry

The elegant woman with the pink lace-frilled parasol
Lifts her foot daintily over the putrid, pock-covered corpse
And sighs a sigh that could build the Bridge of Sighs
Of bricks and mortar and the bones of the dead
Plague-ridden streets where rats rule the roost

She knocks on the gate and the guard salutes her
But she ignores the gesture and demands entry
The guard falters once and the bullet buries through his skull
The marksman waves her through and she smiles wonderfully
Goodbye, King, may your next life be as fruitful as this

The cat woman warbles to the crow and the rat
As they bicker and squabble over the cadaverous dog
When suddenly the townsfolk stop and stand in a deafening silence
News has reached them of the king?s demise
The woman in white has taken the throne; now there shall be anarchy

A euphemism for chaos shall sweep across the town
The rats shall flee and the birds shall panic
As the people tear down the walls that they see
And as the rains will fall an angel will come down
With a hammer of gold it shall assist in their anarchic state of minds

The king is lying in a puddle of his own blood
Frothing at the mouth and wheezing in death
The bloodied dagger held firm in her tight grip
The light breaks apart as it careens through the stained glass
And the rainbow ends at the feet of the decaying king

The world rejoices and the townspeople sing
Today, they declare, a holiday shall be bestowed
For the King has gone and in his place sits anarchy
With a watchful eye and an iron hand
She is King
#2
See what you meant about it being a bit long, I'll need to read over it a few times before i give it a crit to be honest. If i haven't done it by tomorrow night then pm me and i shall give it a bash
#3
ok, had a look over this, dont really know what to think of it to be honest! never really done a poetry crit on this before

Kinda liked these lines:
"Plague-ridden streets where rats rule the roost"
and
"It swivels its invisible eyes up, round, and looks in another direction
Reflecting the doorway, where once it was empty now houses a dark figure"

They're the ones that kinda stuck out for me when reading it through.

One line i wasnt too keen on was:

"And sighs a sigh that could build the Bridge of Sighs" just too many sighs i think
dunno maybe "And sighs a sigh that could build the bridge" sounds better, dunno just my thoughts. Sorry that this crit couldnt be more useful anywho
#4
For me it may sound weird but I don't think it's long enough. in a poem of this magnitude I would like to get to know the characters a bit more. I think it would help convey the message you want to get across. The imagary was very good but I think in there somehow the plot got a bit muddled. I think the style is good and has great potential. I'd love to read an Epic by you some day because I know you can do it.

Here's a short piece i just did: https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/forum/showthread.php?t=430166
Last edited by magicninja_ at Sep 9, 2006,