The Unnamed Act

[Fionn Fael]

While researching Sylvia Plath (a fantastic author of confessional poetry) for an AP English project, I looked up some of her later works. Upon reading some of her poems yesterday at about midnight, I was struck with inspiration, and decided to spew out some prose of my own. I normally am terrible at poetry, but I actually like this piece a bit. For some reason, my best writing comes out late at night. Go figure. Anyway, here's the poem:

The Unnamed Act

I am stopped.
The air is cold and the wind is sharp
But I still feel the warmth.

The stage lights dim
The backdrop changes
The chief player, a wistful woman with a wilting rose
That was withheld from a lover

Sitting, resting, staring
Hope counts the minutes and the seconds
Ticking the time away 'til my glorious doomsday

How much is a red glyph worth?
Of late, of more than every mine's gold and silver
That shines with a fleeting explosion

But do you see it, do you?
All the gossips, midwives, matchmakers exclaim, "Truth!"
Yet Doubt still makes his home in my mind

I go on only to play the game
The goal: Your gaze.
The reward: Your love
And the sweetest buoyancy that never fails to follow

And if it is true buoyancy
Let me be thrown upon the rolling waves.
My faith is in the life that keeps me afloat.

Oh, woe is absent
But absence brings woe
When I am returned to my never-ending task once more

An apparition through the doorway has your fair frame,
A passing shadow glimpsed bears familiarity
Though I know it not.

Snow whips and whirls and reproduces, it seems.
Multiplication in the sky of frozen thoughts
Cast heavenward

The play goes on adjacent
The lamps still lit, but the lines forgotten
And lost among the stumblings of "out of character"s

We are those fretting our hour upon the stage
While Lady Wisdom chides for waste and youthful ignorance
"Child," she says, "fools' endeavors dost thou seek."

Sifting through the sandy crowds leaves only one stone
Time and again, but despite myself
I am sure she is right.
Yet saints do move all the same.
_____________________________________________________

So... What do you think? I know, it's kind of strange. It's metaphorical. Sorry about the length! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, though!

[Althaia]

i like it it very nice

[Anna Mae]

The Unnamed Act

I am stopped.
The air is cold and the wind is sharp
But I still feel the warmth. Of... the stage lights?

The stage lights dim
The backdrop changes
The chief player, a wistful woman with a wilting rose
That was withheld from a lover Just checking that the rose is what was withheld from the lover.

Sitting, resting, staring
Hope counts the minutes and the seconds
Ticking the time away 'til my glorious doomsday I like this stanza.

How much is a red glyph worth? If this is a specific allusion, I missed it.
Of late, of more than every mine's gold and silver
That shines with a fleeting explosion

But do you see it, do you? I would put this into two sentences.
All the gossips, midwives, matchmakers exclaim, "Truth!"
Yet Doubt still makes his home in my mindGood. Although if this is still in reference to the glyph thing, I would not be comprehending the full meaning.

I go on only to play the game
The goal: Your gaze.
The reward: Your love I would put a comma here.
And the sweetest buoyancy that never fails to follow

And if it is true buoyancy
Let me be thrown upon the rolling waves.
My faith is in the life that keeps me afloat. Interesting thought

Oh, woe is absent
But absence brings woe
When I am returned to my never-ending task once more Which is?

An apparition through the doorway has your fair frame,
A passing shadow glimpsed bears familiarity
Though I know it not. By this point I am really appreciating the flow of your poem.

Snow whips and whirls and reproduces, it seems.
Multiplication in the sky of frozen thoughts
Cast heavenward The thoughts are what were cast heavenward?

The play goes on adjacent
The lamps still lit, but the lines forgotten
And lost among the stumblings of "out of character"s

We are those fretting our hour upon the stage
While Lady Wisdom chides for waste and youthful ignorance
"Child," she says, "fools' endeavors dost thou seek." I question your decision to decide to have Lady Wisdom speak directly.

Sifting through the sandy crowds leaves only one stone What is the stone?
Time and again, but despite myself
I am sure she is right.
Yet saints do move all the same. I would suggest making this line its own stanza.