08-19-2015, 05:16 AM
Hey Ackeley
I'm not sure why this wouldn't be considered poetry. I thought is was good poetry, but like others have said, it has too much imagery. I'll offer my thoughts on this below:
[quote='AckeleyPhillips' pid='195641' dateline='1439830194']
This is the first poem I have posted for critique, I look forward to hearing feedback.
Black Ooze
He smiles scarred tracks on ice, cracks in the earth’s crust, cut into brown dust cheeks, protected in a barbed wire moustache.
Black treacle gathers in the skin cracks of his chin.
Tar dribbles at the sides of his mouth, strains onto his chest, madness circles into his nostrils, black smoke in his brain, a charred bird’s nest.
Boom! Stop right here. This is a great series of imagery. The following lines are too much though. Some may want to be omitted or rearranged.
His melted and burnt form, gritty grease gets caught in his teeth.
A caustic sour chemical tangles his mouth, his tongue, his hair. Hot melted black bin bag stretched over his forehead, mat shining plastic, boarded with a crusted smear of black gravel.
His tongue sinks in a thin pool of ink, bubbles on his teeth cause fierce pain under his ripped lips.
The skating smile from his hole razors through his face, slashed spirals, twirls, dots and blotches, deep stains through the skin’s soul.
Omit these lines would be my suggestion
A tearing of plate territory, violence cuts into features.
Fluid flows as charred lava inside his husk. It rides the slopes to his eyes. Through the veins of his white domes it soaks into his pupils, black clouds in dusked water.
His dead face, pleased of any sensation. Rotting clotting black, gushes out his portals.
The stretching aperture holes of his Halloween mask smile with lunacy, they tare as its chin falls off, creating piles of singed plastic.
The lacerations, argue its face, collided to cause further physical distress.
Omit these lines too
His blade smile a compulsion, a nervous sickness. The black gold of the ocean, spewing out a rig. Severed arteries out of his neck create this repulsion.
Black ooze spews, unable to break monotony, convulsions out of a mass.
So it reads like this: less is more as stated above
Black Ooze
He smiles scarred tracks on ice, cracks in the earth’s crust, cut into brown dust cheeks, protected in a barbed wire moustache.
Black treacle gathers in the skin cracks of his chin.
Tar dribbles at the sides of his mouth, strains onto his chest, madness circles into his nostrils, black smoke in his brain, a charred bird’s nest.
A tearing of plate territory, violence cuts into features.
Fluid flows as charred lava inside his husk. It rides the slopes to his eyes. Through the veins of his white domes it soaks into his pupils, black clouds in dusked water.
His blade smile a compulsion, a nervous sickness. The black gold of the ocean, spewing out a rig. Severed arteries out of his neck create this repulsion.
Black ooze spews, unable to break monotony, convulsions out of a mass.
I'm not sure why this wouldn't be considered poetry. I thought is was good poetry, but like others have said, it has too much imagery. I'll offer my thoughts on this below:
[quote='AckeleyPhillips' pid='195641' dateline='1439830194']
This is the first poem I have posted for critique, I look forward to hearing feedback.
Black Ooze
He smiles scarred tracks on ice, cracks in the earth’s crust, cut into brown dust cheeks, protected in a barbed wire moustache.
Black treacle gathers in the skin cracks of his chin.
Tar dribbles at the sides of his mouth, strains onto his chest, madness circles into his nostrils, black smoke in his brain, a charred bird’s nest.
Boom! Stop right here. This is a great series of imagery. The following lines are too much though. Some may want to be omitted or rearranged.
His melted and burnt form, gritty grease gets caught in his teeth.
A caustic sour chemical tangles his mouth, his tongue, his hair. Hot melted black bin bag stretched over his forehead, mat shining plastic, boarded with a crusted smear of black gravel.
His tongue sinks in a thin pool of ink, bubbles on his teeth cause fierce pain under his ripped lips.
The skating smile from his hole razors through his face, slashed spirals, twirls, dots and blotches, deep stains through the skin’s soul.
Omit these lines would be my suggestion
A tearing of plate territory, violence cuts into features.
Fluid flows as charred lava inside his husk. It rides the slopes to his eyes. Through the veins of his white domes it soaks into his pupils, black clouds in dusked water.
His dead face, pleased of any sensation. Rotting clotting black, gushes out his portals.
The stretching aperture holes of his Halloween mask smile with lunacy, they tare as its chin falls off, creating piles of singed plastic.
The lacerations, argue its face, collided to cause further physical distress.
Omit these lines too
His blade smile a compulsion, a nervous sickness. The black gold of the ocean, spewing out a rig. Severed arteries out of his neck create this repulsion.
Black ooze spews, unable to break monotony, convulsions out of a mass.
So it reads like this: less is more as stated above
Black Ooze
He smiles scarred tracks on ice, cracks in the earth’s crust, cut into brown dust cheeks, protected in a barbed wire moustache.
Black treacle gathers in the skin cracks of his chin.
Tar dribbles at the sides of his mouth, strains onto his chest, madness circles into his nostrils, black smoke in his brain, a charred bird’s nest.
A tearing of plate territory, violence cuts into features.
Fluid flows as charred lava inside his husk. It rides the slopes to his eyes. Through the veins of his white domes it soaks into his pupils, black clouds in dusked water.
His blade smile a compulsion, a nervous sickness. The black gold of the ocean, spewing out a rig. Severed arteries out of his neck create this repulsion.
Black ooze spews, unable to break monotony, convulsions out of a mass.
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