This and More

[Rook]

Hello.

This is my second post here and my first poem.

This and more

Once upon in Boston Street,
There lived a girl so fair and sweet,
So warm and radiant a redhead whom I did adore,
And this grim task I take with care,
For there is insufficient flair,
In verse I craft as I record this piece of lore.

For she was this and much more.

So tender were her velvet lips,
And with her perfect span of hips,
Her gracious walk was nothing I had seen before,
She was a love-induced mirage,
The lines of her décolletage,
Such pizazz no breathing man could ignore.

Yes she was this and much more.

Her heart to me she gave away,
An oath sworn on summer’s day,
The brightest years I had never lived before,
Until a bleak December night,
My precious love-induced mirage,
A heartbeat later it shattered across the polished floor,

That was it and nothing more.

In sorrow I felt the stormy skies,
Anticipating my demise,
A drowning man five feet away from homely shore,
Slow descent with no refuge,
Under the might of the deluge,
Knee bent prepared to touch upon the ocean’s floor.

I was this and nothing more.

[rowens]

Edgar Poe has been taught shamelessly in high schools for decades.

But there's more to it than what's taught.

[Rook]

I was never taught Poe.

But yes, reading it was what made me try.

[Seth31]

A lot of emotion in this, I feel that you really wrote this from within. And, that in itself, makes this enjoyable for me to read.

[billy]

hi seth, we need as little more than you gave. what made you feel this was written from within?

---

hi rook and welcome to the site.

after reading the 1st line i was intrigued, (mainly because of the marathon thing) sadly you followed up with a large cliche.
and then followed the cliche with reversed syntax (yoda speak).
don't force the rhymes. if anything, forget them for a while, just get the bare-bones of the poem down without cliche or language that tries too hard to be poetic.

don't forget to use punctuation where it's needed,

there's a lot more that needs pointing out but you can workshop the poem a few steps at a time.

talk the poem out loud, where does it break, where are the pauses. have you heard such expressions before, if so use something else.

thanks for the read.

Hello.

This is my second post here and my first poem.

This and more

Once upon in Boston Street,
There lived a girl so fair and sweet,
So warm and radiant a redhead whom I did adore,
And this grim task I take with care,
For there is insufficient flair,
In verse I craft as I record this piece of lore.

For she was this and much more.

So tender were her velvet lips,
And with her perfect span of hips,
Her gracious walk was nothing I had seen before,
She was a love-induced mirage,
The lines of her décolletage,
Such pizazz no breathing man could ignore.

Yes she was this and much more.

Her heart to me she gave away,
An oath sworn on summer’s day,
The brightest years I had never lived before,
Until a bleak December night,
My precious love-induced mirage,
A heartbeat later it shattered across the polished floor,

That was it and nothing more.

In sorrow I felt the stormy skies,
Anticipating my demise,
A drowning man five feet away from homely shore,
Slow descent with no refuge,
Under the might of the deluge,
Knee bent prepared to touch upon the ocean’s floor.

I was this and nothing more.

[Brownlie]

Hello.

This is my second post here and my first poem.

This and more

Once upon in Boston Street,
There lived a girl so fair and sweet,
So warm and radiant a redhead whom I did adore,
And this grim task I take with care,
For there is insufficient flair,
In verse I craft as I record this piece of lore.

For she was this and much more.

So tender were her velvet lips,
And with her perfect span of hips,
Her gracious walk was nothing I had seen before,
She was a love-induced mirage,
The lines of her décolletage,
Such pizazz no breathing man could ignore.

Yes she was this and much more.

Her heart to me she gave away,
An oath sworn on summer’s day,
The brightest years I had never lived before,
Until a bleak December night,
My precious love-induced mirage,
A heartbeat later it shattered across the polished floor,

That was it and nothing more.

In sorrow I felt the stormy skies,
Anticipating my demise,
A drowning man five feet away from homely shore,
Slow descent with no refuge,
Under the might of the deluge,
Knee bent prepared to touch upon the ocean’s floor.

I was this and nothing more.

I took a class once and they advised me not to be "poetical" I thought the idiom was a little short sighted but perhaps theres truth to it and I may struggle with this to. The idea behind "poetical" is that you should not use archaic language in an attempt to sound eloquent. "In this verse I craft as I record this piece of lore." The use of the word "lore" may be called poetical. Also, the idea of poetry as a craft seems like it is something you have been told. Why is poetry a craft? Good Luck.