[Kaizer Kaizer]

A nail embedded in one's skull
Would be a rather unpleasant thing to have
But I myself have seen things
Far more unpleasant than that.
I have seen men with shattered minds.
I have seen children with children, perish.
I have seen the End.
If I were to choose
Between any of these things
and a simple piece of metal
I would have to say
Bring the hammer.

[CuCulain42]

Well, here's my thoughts. The classic teen angst is quite apparent in this one (I checked your profile for your age after reading it.) It reminds me of some of the stuff I would write when I was your age. I would suggest working on your metaphores, the key to a good poem is layers, when I read this one it's all there out in the open.

[Kaizer Kaizer]

Yes, but what of this poem?

With a wicked smile, let thy inhibitions take hold
On flaming wind, take flight
Hollowed starlight, gleam from below
And fly off into sated night.

And in her hair, she wears a crown of gold
A cloak of ashes, unending sadness is her cry
Skin of moonbeams, eyes of emerald, she laughs
Her voice of madness shrieking high.

Her feet pass a road of secrets only angels know
Lit only by the sky's tears, lit only by pain
The bitter regret of a thousand sins, unforgiven
A maiden's heart, gentle, forgotten, slain.

She falls, screaming bitterly at the soulless plain
Her sobbing cries lighting the onyx path
Her spirit tainted, ripped and torn, bleeds evermore
Painless death, show now your merciful wrath.

The sun rises, a dreaming corona malignant dies
And gazes omniscient with heartless, uncaring eyes.

[smokingwreckage]

I happen to like angst.

All my teenage poetry had a lot more swearing in it.

So yeah, quite articulate, but you could keep the rhythm on the second a bit tighter ;)

[Kaizer Kaizer]

I could. Do you think I'm going to?

[smokingwreckage]

< mystic voice > Only YOU can answer that.

[Kaizer Kaizer]

Then no.

[Spike]

Though the second one could use a bit of refinement in meter, it shows that you have a firm grasp of how a thesaurus works. You managed to avoid repeating adjectives, though some bits seem a tad cliche.

Otherwise it's a pretty poem.

The first one, however, is depressing and lacking in complexity.

[Kaizer Kaizer]

Wait, you found that depressing? Odd, not what I was going for. And you want to know something that makes me smile when you say that? l know how to use a thesaurus, yet I did not once use a thesaurus when I wrote that...

[Kaizer Kaizer]

Here, as promised.

I ran my hands along the holes that had
been whispering in my ear "Touch, but do not look."

Though below the surface of my arctic poltergeist,
Fires of damnation burned and multiplied and shook.

Creaking, crawling, craving madness falling lower than the darkest night.
Spelunking golden fists of darkness churn the archers' false delight.

Boulders, flaming cannons roll
"Roll down!" screams the priest.

Child of seven mothers, son of seven brothers,
thoughtless whims of others; to the east.

Halflings. Wretched mutants!
Imperfection taunts me. Dance!

The mistress sighs, and slowly sits,
Submitting to the trance.

[Kaizer Kaizer]

Guessing, guess, and guess again,
The glistening, pearly flare; observe.
Grating, gastly, burning teeth;
Your master serve.

Beligerent followers, with aching rage,
Hear the phoenix cry.
Befriend the chestnut alchemist,
And fly.

Throne of tapestry blood.
How does the manic handle scream?
Sorrowful winds of limbo, I derive.
Pestilential dream.

Whiskers of the purple fox;
They grow along the amber sphere.
The baubles shatter, shards exhale
From iron shear.

Guessing, guess, and guess again,
Beligerent followers with aching rage.
How does the manic handle scream?
Turn the page.

[Kaizer Kaizer]

Time for another poem. Someone, for the love of all things good, comment.

(Fallen Seraphim)

White light, oh the brightness of the icy wind,
A speckled wall of frost begins to tumble down below.
Black night, yet the polar moon above,
Wills the fright of men and lights the blackened snow.

Seraphim, looking down upon the wind,
Black heart, lost, beyond the spectral door
White wing, flowing gently in the wind,
Hears the icy serpents' tainted roar.

Shout and cry, behold the Seraphim!
Fallen voice of God, forever grey!
See his whirling tears, they beckon him,
And never shall he see the light of day!

Tears upon tears, and wind upon gust,
An angels blood, a malice torn.
His fear, a stone, if dust to dust;
The frozen voice of God, Reborn!

[smokingwreckage]

Okay, the "manic handle" poem I didn't "get". It wasn't sucky, I just didn't get it. Manic means ridiculously "up" and hyper-happy doesn't it? The poem feels like it's about something specific but I don't know what, like I'm missing the "final piece of the puzzle" or in this case, the box with the picture on it, and all the edge pieces.

""rolldown" screamed the priest" is clearer. With a little context I think I could see what's happening there, but it wins points for having halflings and wretched mutants- or better yet, for calling halflings wretched mutants.

"The Seraphim". Ah, here is some clear imagery. It has some very nice pictures in it, with lovely greyscale and excellent lighting. Does it bear any relation to that old movie about God and Satan, what was it.... "Mr Frost"?

PS wretched is one of my favourite words. It's fun to say, especially in melodramatic villain voices.

[Kaizer Kaizer]

FINALLY SOMEONE COMMENTS!

No, my poetry is never based off movies or books or tv. As for the handle, it's a nonsense poem, and thus does not have to make sense.

Thank the lord someone commented...

[smokingwreckage]

I was thinking "inspired by themes also present in", where satan and cold and reborn all are. OK, "handle" is nonsense, I can stop trying to make it mesh, phew!