| BOOKS ARE NOTHING TILL THEY ARE READ!
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2012-10-08
I most respectfully have to disagree with your core argument - amusing as I find it.
Books are collections of words, strung into sentences, which frame mental images when read. Books these days are not necessarily made from paper, but grow increasingly diverse in their shape and form.
They have a use, in that they facilitate the transfer of ideas directly between minds - Stephen King has stated that writing is technically an act of Telepathy - in that ideas are transferred from one mind to another, without direct contact between the participants. We have never met, and in all probability we never will - but even so, these words directly transmit concepts between us, allowing us to bridge the several thousand miles separating us.
Words have an uncanny power to bring into existence things not yet conceived of in reality.
However, I fully agree that the power of the book and the words it contains, come into effect only once that book is opened by a reader - suddenly, the world envisioned springs gloriously to life, painting itself upon the mind's eye, of the recipient.
Just my two cents. :)
P.S. This is not meant as a critique, but rather, as an open argument, and I do hope you don't take it ill.
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| Dead To The World but not forgotten
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2007-10-06
The title is striking, and the poem is a wonderful read.
I think the theme of being "dead to the world" is one you have not fully exhausted, and one that deserves further attention.
Don't get me wrong, I think the poem is wonderful, but try to speculate in what it means to be "dead to the world", for instance, in an emotional sense
also, who is the active character -the world or the dead one?
there are many possibilities, that I encourage you to discover and exploit.
Wonderful work, please keep it up :)
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| Running Alone
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2006-08-06
I will take the liberty of being rather direct in my criticism of this text.
I simply love the first stanza - particularly the butterfly part.
The "Easy" repetition in the following stanza is another excellent piece of work - not overdone.
The bit in diacritics in the subsequent stanza, however, I deem irrellevant for the poem - I must confess it annoys me to a certain extent. :)
In stanza 4, try to regain the rhyme and rhythm you had going so nicely in the first stanza - try mentioning the colour of the shade instead of it's coolness - everybody knows a shade is cool - tell me something I haven't noted about shades - their colour - their character, or the like - or tell us something we already know in a way we haven't heard before.
Stanza 5 - you have "night" in two subsequent lines - try to replace one of them with something else - I like the "fright" bit :)
And the wall is an excellent image, that might perhaps be elaborated.
Overall, the text cuts through my mind like a sharp blade, but it might perhaps be sharpened even further.
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