Does anyone have a comment?

girl in hiding








moving statue


an almost beautifully choreographed dance


stumbling around and around


she wobbles in her five inch stilettos








her knees collide with hard granite


and laying in pain, undeserving








pretty dress artfully arranged


on the cold marble floor





she preens into a tiny mirror


still beautiful





girls find your place








father looms, his nearness causes subtle hairs


to stand


save face


kiss his lips and dance\beautiful girls








blanket your pain with sweet smelling flowers


empty eyes, window for an empty head





mirrors show these child like reflections


childhood obsessions


grown out of filth, smothered with rot


she blooms into a beautiful shell


with nothing inside her

Does anyone have a comment?
I like it, but line two gives me a little bit of trouble...


"an almost beautifully choreographed dance" would imply that the dance has been choreographed, but not quite beautifully. However, the rest of the stanza seems to indicate that it's not really choreographed at all, as the girl is "stumbling around" and "wobbles."





That would make me think "a beautifully almost-choreographed dance" would make a better line. I think this would be cool, as it would mean the almost-choreographing was beautifully done (which I kind of get the sense is what you are saying).





The idea would then carry over more clearly into lines 11-15; where the actions described in those lines could be considered the "almost-choreography." -- Seems pretty powerful that way to me.





Of course, I'm looking at the work from the outside -- and maybe I'm reading my own ideas into it by changing your line -- but I just can't comment on a poem here without making some kind of suggestion.





Still, it's just a suggestion, do with it as you will.


Nice work.
Reply:Is it okay to answer your beautiful poem with one of mine own?


"Lonely Tears"





Half-sitting, half-laying


His hat in the street


A few coins twinkle there


Nearby, a drummers beat.





His eyes barely open


For what's there to see


A businessman passes


Throws two quarters, maybe three.





Out of guilt or compassion


I'd say the former not the latter


For his eyes never left his watch


As though he doesn't even matter.





But the old man doesn't care


He's already learned how to cope


What he really requires


Is for us to give him hope.





A bard in me, I say to you


You that cannot see his pain


For it does indeed show itself


Time and time again.





If you peer closely


At the corner of his eye


Ah, but first you must sit a spell


And let the sun creep through the sky.





Until time then rewards


It now begins to swell


A lone tiny tear


Has finally climbed the well.





Slowly it builds


Its journey long


Vibrating in rhythm


To the drummers song.





It finally falls


Sliding over the cheek


Pounding through the stubble


Gliding where it's sleek.





Hanging from the chin


Posing in its singularity


And showing all


In utmost clarity.





Only a man


With a broken heart


Cries with


Lonely tears.
Reply:beautiful, an art of words arranged into a beautiful poem!





bravo!
Reply:It's prose with some words missing. Poetry is more than writing in sentence fragments.
Reply:This is a fascinating, well written poem, slightly disturbing and very moving. Excellent imagery. I really enjoyed reading this. Thank you.
Reply:Simply Beautiful, but I wonder about the meaning, what is the girl hiding from? Does the girl need help with something? Or is she writing about something she has seen? You do truly have a poets heart. Keep on writing, it is such a wonderful outlet.