[Soul Dreamer]

Crying for Sanity

Rain falls,
against the blood stained windows,
of my life,
as i beg for release,
from this prison,
of stress and fear.

I look out,
Through the running red glass,
at a world as bright,
as the moon.

The children run, skip, and laugh,
as couples hold hands,
in the park,
Roses line the walk ways,
Rainbows and stars grace the sky.

I look down,
at my blood soaked clothes,
and upon my scarred, aching wrists,
and blink back tears.

I hear the cries,
from the other rooms,
as the insane fill the air,
with their morbid call,
reminding me that this prison,
is my home,
for i am insane,
and those outside,
are not...

[Natsunaine]

I like the poem but im not sure what it is but i feel like it could be better. To be honest im not a good critic thats more galla, and sheol's territory XD

[Soul Dreamer]

poems aren't for being criticized. theyre for expressing the emotion. but ok.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

On the subject of poetic criticism, I find this a rather interesting read, though it isn't exactly in line with my thoughts on the matter.

I suppose I'm something of a poetic nihilist, in that I see poetry as a dead form of art, something engaged in for wholly self-indulgent purposes. There are, sadly, far, far more poets in the world then there are readers of poetry. I could go off on a tangent about how writing of any kind comes down to communication (and, more fundamentally, community), semantic structures providing a medium through which ideas can be exchanged, but, as I said, I feel that poetry in the last century has become entirely saturated and lost to all relevance. To make an example of what you said, it is, in many ways, about the poet's emotions, in that it is a pursuit mired largely in vanity, and at best, a quasi-artistic hobby. It doesn't, and hasn't in a long time, communicate much of anything beyond the poet's state of mind at the time of the writing. A curiosity.

That isn't to say there's no room for discussion, however. Honestly, the only sort of recognition a poet is going to get in our postmodern age is among his or her peers. In that sense, it remains a dialogue, albeit one of particularly colloquial parameters. You can represent poets as a subsection of the human system engaging in a form of discourse unique to themselves, and could derive sufficient semantic merit from that to call poetry a kind of art, but outside that circle of relevance, poetry simply falls away. And if you deny that very dialogue, you're left with only the poet in stasis, isolated in a room of mirrors. Ideas can't mature or evolve without communication.

[Soul Dreamer]

Um ok then

[Graceful Reaper]

Just wanted to say I liked your poem! ^_^ As far as criticism goes, don't let it get to you. No big deal.

[Soul Dreamer]

Thanks Reaper. I'll post some more poems for you ok? :) and I'll try to post some not so dark poetry just for you hun :)