Comments : In Rain and Bridges

  • 5 years ago

    by nourayasmine

    What was the contest if I may know?

    • 5 years ago

      by Xanthe

      Battle of the poets, hosted by Chelsey :)

  • 5 years ago

    by Decayed

    First, Congrats for smashing me with this tears jerking piece that left me jealous :P lol... You really made an awesome job!

    I don't want to write
    about our burnt bridges again,

    ^ from the moment I read this, I said she will win :P lol.. yup! with no exaggeration! I mean it's quite alluring.

    not even the bridges back
    in my homeland that I haven't

    ^ You struck my cords with this. Whenever I read the word home or land or homeland, I feel that I am attached.

    visited in years, where misery
    lives underneath.

    ^ I can envision bridges here. The picture is gloomy, foggy, and damp... I imagine homeless people underneath, too.

    For I could no longer acquiesce
    with the stench of dying dreams
    filling my nose,

    ^ original! I had to think of what you mean with 'filling my nose' ; I could say that those dreams never leave you alone. WOW!

    I shall write about something sadder
    tonight...

    ^ oh... now this is THE LINE! I am really fond of this specific line and what it brings from emotions to melody... really attractive and addicting to the senses.

    I try to capture beauty in my hands,
    but beauty keeps fluttering and fading;
    teasing me to run after her. Yet,

    ^ The personification of beauty is awesome! I can envision it as a butterfly.

    I don't want to run anymore, I've been
    running after time for so long
    (or was I running away?)

    ^ Thought provoking with the question. I was kind of said to know that you don't want to run anymore you lazy ass :P haha aren't you a kite runner? lol... this is really amazing, and your style is epic!

    I'm no longer sure. But I am
    sure that I will retreat tonight - as I
    always do - and wake up in
    another dream, standing under the
    rain of December; drenched.

    ^ I really like this stanza and the incorporation of rain. It's typical, but I feel connected to it and totally sucked into the atmosphere. Quite mesmerizing. I would substitute 'under' with 'beneath' .. not for technical reasons, but because it sounds and reads better :P

    I shall see her again, clothed in her
    dress of snow that has been stained
    with neglect, and she will be singing
    and spinning as though rain was
    something beautiful; as though grey
    clouds weren't filled with sadness.

    ^ this stanza IMO is not quite important. The 1st 2 and a half lines only do it for me.

    And as quickly as the dream had come,
    I knew her bridge would soon recede in
    the distance, abandoning me within the
    bosom of dawn - wondering whether
    I was wandering or simply dreaming.

    ^ I love the 'wondering' and 'wandering' .. gir don't we connect :P ... my poem has 'mourning' and 'morning' .. I love this so much :)!!

    I knew I couldn't write tonight, so I
    attempted to paint her bridge on my
    palm, with the rain draped over her
    shoulder and hugging her soiled
    tresses - like how it used to be.

    ^ One of my best stanzas, especially painting a bridge on your poem. It feels that it is a graphical video for an abstract artist. those we see on youtube.... Xanthe, you rock!

    But no matter how gentle and careful
    I will my strokes to be, I knew, with the
    tears soaking my hands that her bridge
    will forever be broken. The painting and
    this poem will only be reminders of
    burnt dreams; never to be fulfilled.

    ^ The dose of melancholy here is killing. Burnt dreams.. ugh, that is stellar.

    All she wanted was a roof above her head,
    a mother to fix her braids;

    ^ THIS WOWED ME. The roof conveys shelter and protection.. not from physical pain only but from the emotional pain. And the mother use is freakin' awesome... fixing the braids shows 'care' and 'love'.

    I had to find her; to thank her for showing
    me beauty in rain and burnt bridges.

    ^ I don't really understant who is 'her'.. mabe a friend? a mother?
    or maybe I didn't read correct what is above.

    but anyhew, this was a super execution to an amazing poem that could be minimized somehow :P

    The ending shows that there is beauty in ugly things, and we should search for them and look harder.

    I am proud you destroyed me with this piece.

  • 5 years ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    Xanthe, once again you rock.
    Lebanese said it all, nothing for me left
    to say other than you go girl

  • 5 years ago

    by L

    I'll be back!!!

  • 5 years ago

    by L

    Your poem looked so long in my ipod,

    I don't want to write
    about our burnt bridges again,
    not even the bridges back
    in my homeland that I haven't
    visited in years, where misery
    lives underneath.

    --- When I started reading this stanza, I thought that burnt bridges was a metaphor to say something like, your past moments with someone or more like the topics that are responsible for setting distance between you and someone.

    For I could no longer acquiesce
    with the stench of dying dreams
    filling my nose, and the ocean
    stinging my eyes before I could
    clearly see and freely breathe
    again, knowing that we'll never
    cross these bridges together.

    --- Then with this one, you explain the reason why you don't want to write about the bridges found in your homeland. I thought you painted a vivid image of where those bridges where located.. Since you are talking about the ocean, I can only assume that those bridges are near from it. And it makes me wonder what type of dreams did you have? But then I thought, it's not really important. The sad part here is that you and that person won't agree on something. " knowing that we'll never cross these bridges together" that's what made me think, that in order for you and that someone to walk through those bridges, you both need to be on the same place and agree. Or it could mean that you and that someone won't be going back to your homeland and hence can't cross them again together.

    I shall write about something sadder
    tonight...

    I try to capture beauty in my hands,
    but beauty keeps fluttering and fading;
    teasing me to run after her. Yet,
    I don't want to run anymore, I've been
    running after time for so long
    (or was I running away?)

    --- When I read this one, my first thoughts were, what type of beauty is she referring.
    Everyone looks for a different type of beauty and this makes me want to read more to find out what type of beauty you are looking for, rather what type of beauty you have been running after, or away?

    I'm no longer sure. But I am
    sure that I will retreat tonight - as I
    always do - and wake up in
    another dream, standing under the
    rain of December; drenched.

    I shall see her again, clothed in her
    dress of snow that has been stained
    with neglect, and she will be singing
    and spinning as though rain was
    something beautiful; as though grey
    clouds weren't filled with sadness.

    --- I'm not sure, but I think this one right here. It's part of the dream. Since, you personified beauty as her on the other stanza.. . It's a bit confusing to know if you are talking about you on this stanza, or if you are talking about beauty, or if you are referring to someone else with "her."

    But the way, I interpret it, it's as if that her is you. As if you are dreaming of yourself in a white dress and dancing and being happy. Like nothing sad has happened.

    or may be, you are dreaming of a friend?

    And as quickly as the dream had come,
    I knew her bridge would soon recede in
    the distance, abandoning me within the
    bosom of dawn - wondering whether
    I was wandering or simply dreaming.

    ---Yup, so it was a dream. So the bridge is a metaphor for dreams and not about what I thought at first.

    I knew I couldn't write tonight, so I
    attempted to paint her bridge on my
    palm, with the rain draped over her
    shoulder and hugging her soiled
    tresses - like how it used to be.

    --- then you attempted to paint your dream on your palm.
    or you attempted to paint her dream on your palm.

    But no matter how gentle and careful
    I will my strokes to be, I knew, with the
    tears soaking my hands that her bridge
    will forever be broken. The painting and
    this poem will only be reminders of
    burnt dreams; never to be fulfilled.

    ---- This is sad, I can relate to this part.

    All she wanted was a roof above her head,
    a mother to fix her braids; all I wanted
    was to cross her bridge and take away the
    sadness no one could see dwelling in her
    eyes, as twilight's fingertips hid the
    tears she longed to shed.

    --- The confusing part is that you switch from she to I.. So I am thinking that perhaps, by she you are talking about yourself but I can also think that you are talking about a friend. And every time, I read it. I'm convincing myself that this is about you and a friend. You want to take her sadness away. You would like to help her cross her bridge so that she can get to her dream.

    I had to find her; to thank her for showing
    me beauty in rain and burnt bridges.

    --- With this one, it's making me believe that you weren't personifying beauty and since it kept fading for you, it made you run more and more towards your friend. . .

    But can you only find her in your dream? Is your friend a dream? Is she far away? and I'm here trying to figure out the beauty found in burnt bridges...
    could it be that the beauty is that you remember her in her dress of snow, spinning, despite all the sadness that she had. Perhaps, she is someone you admire so much since she shows that she is someone strong and she is really dear to you. And beauty in rain, because well, rain is beautiful.

    I think that this last sentences are connected to this stanza in the middle of your poem and I guess the answers to my questions are somewhere in there.

    "I shall see her again, clothed in her
    dress of snow that has been stained
    with neglect, and she will be singing
    and spinning as though rain was
    something beautiful; as though grey
    clouds weren't filled with sadness."

    This one is a thought provoking piece, a bit confusing just because I really thought you were personifying beauty, and I'm almost certain that you weren't lol. I could be wrong. After reading many times, I'm with the idea that this is about a friend and you. That's why you started with our burnt bridges. Burnt dreams, your dream was to take away her sadness and her's to feel the love of a mom.
    But despite dreams not being fulfilled, your friend seemed happy. even though, she did have sadness. But she found beauty in the rain, and felt happy when it was raining. Wait, could it be that she is a homeless girl? she didn't have a roof and the rain felt on her hair and entirely on her. And the rain covered her tears and no one could see that. But you did. And you admired her, right?
    and hence, your dream of being drenched on a December rain. You are remembering her...
    and I'm wondering why can't you cross the bridges with her? what happened to that girl?

    I'm thinking a lot of ideas, right now. I'm not quiet sure but I do feel sad. There are people who leave under bridges. And I just imagining a girl in a dress drenched in the middle of December when it's so cold. and without a home.

    I might have deviated from the true meaning of the poem, but I feel that there is more to it than what I am thinking.

    It's very well written. I will have to come back and read it several times more and see if I can fully understand it. But even so this deserves more than a 5.

  • 5 years ago

    by Hannah Lizette

    "I don't want to write
    about our burnt bridges again,
    not even the bridges back
    in my homeland that I haven't
    visited in years, where misery
    lives underneath."

    ^You are tired of writing about the sadness the burnt bridges as caused you, it has been your only muse lately and it reminds you of your homeland that reminds you of misery? Or I'm not reading deep enough... Don't know.

    "For I could no longer acquiesce
    with the stench of dying dreams
    filling my nose, and the ocean
    stinging my eyes before I could
    clearly see and freely breathe
    again, knowing that we'll never
    cross these bridges together."
    ^You didn't want to come to terms with not walking along the bridge together, wanted to keep the dreams forever. Sometimes dreams are better than reality.

    "I shall write about something sadder
    tonight..."
    ^This stuck out to me, I love it... it's such a great line.

    "I try to capture beauty in my hands,
    but beauty keeps fluttering and fading;
    teasing me to run after her. Yet,
    I don't want to run anymore, I've been
    running after time for so long
    (or was I running away?)"
    ^The personification of beauty is fantastic. With you saying "fluttering" it reminds me of a butterfly. She wants you to chase after, yet you are too tired of always chasing after her; you see no point anymore. The question really entices the reader.

    "I'm no longer sure. But I am
    sure that I will retreat tonight - as I
    always do - and wake up in
    another dream, standing under the
    rain of December; drenched."
    ^You are wanting to wake up (retreat) from the other dream so you can dream about something better for you... I guess? I can't say what I want to say without it sounding stupid! Grrr lol.

    "I shall see her again, clothed in her
    dress of snow that has been stained
    with neglect, and she will be singing
    and spinning as though rain was
    something beautiful; as though grey
    clouds weren't filled with sadness."
    ^This has beautiful imagery. I can just see her dancing in her snowy, stained dress without a care in the world... seeing sunshine through the dark clouds. Nothing is going to bring her down.

    "And as quickly as the dream had come,
    I knew her bridge would soon recede in
    the distance, abandoning me within the
    bosom of dawn - wondering whether
    I was wandering or simply dreaming."
    ^As soon as the happiness of the dream had come, the harsh reality hit, realizing that it was just a dream so the sadness followed.

    "I knew I couldn't write tonight, so I
    attempted to paint her bridge on my
    palm, with the rain draped over her
    shoulder and hugging her soiled
    tresses - like how it used to be."
    ^I love this stanza, it's perfect. You didn't want to write so you decided to paint her dreams(your dreams?) Back to her happy place...

    "But no matter how gentle and careful
    I will my strokes to be, I knew, with the
    tears soaking my hands that her bridge
    will forever be broken. The painting and
    this poem will only be reminders of
    burnt dreams; never to be fulfilled."
    ^You realize that dreams are just dreams... that no matter how you try to paint a pretty picture, the reality is still there and it hurts... it's broken.

    "All she wanted was a roof above her head,
    a mother to fix her braids; all I wanted
    was to cross her bridge and take away the
    sadness no one could see dwelling in her
    eyes, as twilight's fingertips hid the
    tears she longed to shed."
    ^This broke my heart. All she wanted was security and love; all you wanted was to take her sadness and pain away. Oh, my heart. :(

    "I had to find her; to thank her for showing
    me beauty in rain and burnt bridges.
    "
    ^You needed to find her, to let her know that she showed a new world of beauty to you even through the harsh times of burnt bridges. She was/is your friend and that you are there for her, through the happy times and the sad.

    A fantastic write, Xanthe. I'm not sure I interpreted it write, probably not... but just thought I would give my input! :) You are so talented, never stop writing!

  • 5 years ago

    by Lioness

    Amazing.

    Everyone did so well in the contest I quite enjoyed reading everyone's poems and yours just blew me into the waters.

    You are amazing and beautiful.

    I could really see the images in my head and smell the stench you wrote describing the dying dreams.

    Awesome, flawless

    x