Resurrection (second edit)

[Pilgrim]

This is my second edit, I hope it's better than the first. I would really appreciate to hear your honest opinions. I really want to improve my writing, so your feedback would be a great help. Thank you

Overgrown and overflown:
A perpendicular tremor.
In fragile skin
I invite the sin-
My final, guilty endeavour.

I peek outside a dusty mind,
Through windows of unborn zest:
My facets are encrypted,
My garden is inscripted-
The present is a ghost-like guest.

Butterflies and lullabies
Are fragments of embryonic times.
A transparent appearance
Redefines the coherence-
Converting the sirens into chimes.

Inhale the stars to exhale the scars
Of past's spiraling descent.
With a light so inviting
The fireflies are guiding,
Into hives of familiar scent.

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Here's the first edit I struggled with it quite a bit, but I think I've finally managed to improve it. Any feedback/critique will be much appreciated, and will be a great help for me, when I do the next edit. Thanks a lot in advance


Overgrown and overflown,
Brainwaves are crashing together.
In fragile skin
I shut myself in.
My vessel unable to tether.

I glimpse outside from where I hide,
Through windows of spiders and dust:
Dead roses reflecting,
Ten years of neglecting
The soil; dehydrated to crust.

Butterflies and lullabies
Are hazy mementos at best.
My will subsides
To rising tides;
Filling the void in my chest.

I gaze out there, my only care:
Searching the deep, murky sea,
For uplifting currents,
To flush my deterrence,
Then finally I will be free.

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Please bear with me. I'll be the first to admit that this poem, well.. it has a lot of problems. (I knew next to nothing about poetry when I wrote it, still I'm almost embarrassed.) But the poem means a lot to me, so I really wanted to save and rewrite it. It is doable and it's moving along, but it's far from done. I was hoping you could perhaps help me with some constructive criticism, to help me along. It will be very much appreciated!


Overgrown and overflown,
The perpendicular tremor.
In fragile skin,
We order in,
It's such an "original" sin.

In caskets wide,
The glasses hide,
With windows of unborn attention.
Facets' encrypted,
The garden inscripted.
Tell me, what is your fright?

Butterflies and lullabies,
Is a fragment of simple invest.
In changing hides,
The shadows spies,
And leaves nothing to utter suggest.

Flesh is your temple,
Take it and tremble,
Thus no-one can ever forget,
Sickening matter,
All full of chatter,
In hives of familiar scent.

Hello, Volaticus.

I have wandered through the previous incarnations of this poem and have come to the conclusion that what you have left your readers is a puzzle inside a conundrum inside an enigma. In simpler terms, you have constructed a message in code, but have left no means of decoding your message.

Your title sets up the reader to anticipate a subject (in this case, apparently, the narrator) who has in some fashion been restored to life. Alas, from that point the message descends into obfuscation and obscurity. What, the reader may well ask, is going on here?

Ironically, the individual words comprising your message (with the possible exception of your verb ‘inscripted’ – although even in this case you might possibly claim poetic licence) may be found in the dictionary. But when strung together in statements and/or sentences their collective meaning evaporates. Which, of course, is the point of a message in code.

However, the purpose of language, surely, is communication. When your reader asks in frustration and dismay: What does it all mean? then just as surely communication has failed.

Could I, without being facetious, ask that in your next edit you include some code-breaking key so that we might come to enjoy the benefits of what is clearly an imagination in full flight.

With regards and best wishes,

Pilgrim.