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Fri 29 Apr, 2005 09:28 pm
Well here lately I have been having allot of dreams where I will be in a fight but when ever I punch the person it is like my wrist just gives way. It is like nothing will hit right, regardless of the amount of power I put behind the action it just fails to bring about the desired effect. Upon thinking this I wrote this poem.
Paper Fists
Punching with paper fists,
Swallowed by the sinking sand,
To the abyss now we fall,
To oblivion now we die,
Gently hold my paper hands,
Nobody even understands.
The clouds of dark now cry,
The hands of weakness now die,
Punching with paper fists,
Fighting with flailing pillows,
Falling with the rain,
To the end we have come.
The fire of the sun now burn,
There goes life's fern,
No more paper fists,
Punching with ashy remains,
Counting sand grains.
I really like the concept of paper fists. However, I think you could use that thought to write a much better poem.
The problem with this is that you seem to be expressing futility, and nothing more. I don't think you need to repeat the same thing with so many metaphors.
You also are going very epic with this poem, which is not always a bad thing, but in this case I don't think your subject matter warrants it...and the strength of your descriptions actually diminishes the effect of the poem by making such exagerrations!
I would suggest that you come up with some more ideas, and some kind of a metaphorical 'story' or 'setting' in which to place these paper fists, so that we have something more to read about that isn't repetetive but ties everything together.
Dreams are great, why don't you tell us more from your dream? It's much more difficult to make us feel the way you felt simply by telling us to.
Good points once again. I don't think I have ever really wrote a story in the form of a poem...or not very much anyway so that will be a bit of a challenge. I also understand what your saying about how the repetition.
Well I rarely remember much of my poems and I never know the person I am fighting. Or atleast not lately. Something will get me angry at them and a fight will start. Being I have practiced alot of boxing and working out it is unusual that I land a punch and my wrist collapses which is what happens. I guess in a way the same thing is going on in life. Stuff that used to work just doesn't "hit" right. Another thing that makes this dream somewhat ironic to me is that I have not been in a fight for a good 3 years and my attitude is good and I never have a reason to get in a fight.
That is about the best way that I can describe it. I don't know if it helped y'all but it will be a good brain storming start for the reproduced version of this poem that I will probably do soon.
stuh505 wrote:I really like the concept of paper fists. However, I think you could use that thought to write a much better poem.
Yes, I agree with that. I'm not so keen on the poem, but the line "Punching with paper fists," is very good.
Very good crique by stuh.
Quote:Another thing that makes this dream somewhat ironic to me is that I have not been in a fight for a good 3 years and my attitude is good and I never have a reason to get in a fight.
That's good. Leave fighting to the ones who have no life to lose.
Ditto: love the idea, not so sure about the poem.
Although I will also say that i love the imagery of "The clouds of dark now cry"
- hold onto it and put it into a better poem
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