All of My Dreams are Bittersweet

Softly I inhale the morning
and exhale possibilities
like strands of probabilities
entangling soft oddities
that whisper a fragrant warning
of Sunrise slipping from the day
on Armageddon's weary feet
cloaked with disaster and deceit
like lives unlived and incomplete
with passion's breath stolen away.

Motivation and Focus

I write only for publication, thus I have an intent and purpose for everything I write. Additionally, since this is a workshop, when I solicit feedback, I want, along with general impressions and opinions, a judgement as to how my intent and finished product line up in the mind of the reader.

If you believe poetry is a special snowflake and above review, reflection, or improvement, you may want to ignore the Motivation and Focus section of what I write, and probably everything else as well.

This is a study in structure and imagery based on past events and circumstances in my life. Unsurprisingly I am using tetrameter but for this piece I chose a single sentence broken into two parts of five lines each with an ABBBA rhyme scheme. I enjoy playing with structure and I had originally envisioned this piece as much longer, at least another 10 to 20 lines.

As often happens in my writing, I got stuck and everything I wrote after the initial 10 lines felt forced and strained. So I set it aside for three months and came back to it realising that, as an image, it was complete and in my desire to make it a longer piece, I was likely to destroy any value.

So I tweaked a few minor things and spent time to come up with a properly reflective title and the finished result is, in my less than humble opinion, concise and striking.

Subject wise, the piece deals with a reflection of failed relationships. Not coincidentally, I have some experience in this area and, for those people who, like me, reflect on the little things, tying to ascertain how a relationship failed can be bittersweet, as the title indicates.

It's my considered opinion that most relationships fail, barring some truly monumentally moronic action, because they could never succeed. No matter the intent of the parties, some relationships just do not have the ability to persevere and it is normally not this truth that causes as much pain as the decisions people make and the actions they take to separate themselves from a failing or failed relationship.

I have managed not to take any monumentally moronic actions in response to my failed relationships and thus I can look back on them with bittersweet reflection rather than shame and regret.

It's enough to give a cantankerous old romantic a measure of hope.

Just a measure though, we wouldn't want to get carried away.

Thanks for the detailed explanation. It is refreshing to know the history of a poem.

First..why does "Sunrise" begin with uppercase?

Second..L4 is seven syllables, if "entangling" is pronounced correctly, with three syllables. But perhaps you are playing the poetic license card here..I have done that a few times. And since this is not really iambic, it probably doesn't matter.

My first impression, while reading this piece, is that it would work better in performance than on the page, because strategic breaths and inflections could give it a rhythm.

Still, I like it on the page too..it's smart, and original. But as a reader with a meter fetish, it is hard for me to establish a good pacing without rehearsing it a few times.

Thanks for the review and notes.

At times in my writing I anthropomorphise common things and in this case, I am embodying the sunrise with will and purpose, thus turning it into a person.

As for line 4, the problem is that you are pronouncing the word correctly while I apparently have added an extra syllable to it.

I'll revisit that line, thanks for the catch.

Performance wise, everything I write is intended to be rendered as conversationally as possible, as if the meter and thyme is incidental rather than the purpose.

I have found this connects with non-poets much more readily as there is an absence of a lecturing tone associated with a lot of spoken poetry.

i like the poem from the whisper part onwards, it flows, like the muse has now got to you, the half of the poem before that is struggling and does come out a bit forced,
sorry, this was not meant to be hard critique, its just me saying things as i feel they are

Alana,

I can honestly say that no one has ever given me a hard critique. Any critique, when it explains why the author feels the way they do, is valid and as someone who considers themselves a serious writer, I would rather have an honest critique than empty praise.

So, sincerely, thank you for your review and comments.

All of My Dreams are Bittersweet

Softly I inhale the morning
and exhale possibilities
like strands of probabilities
that entangle soft oddities
and whisper a fragrant warning
of Sunrise slipping from the day
on Armageddon's weary feet
cloaked with disaster and deceit
like lives unlived and incomplete
with passion's breath stolen away.

Based on observations and comments I have updated lines 4 and 5. Line 4 was updated to conform with meter first and then reviewed to make it scan smoother and the changes in line 4 required a change in line five.

Comments and critique are welcome.

I am puzzled by the two disparate imagest built here. The poem begins with a delightfully original awakening, then suddenly armageddon shows up! on weary feet , yet. and the second part doesn't seem to fit with the first. Perhaps I expect too much logic or perhaps more information than you wish to convey. Just some thoughts. Warm Regards, Tasha

I like the oddly 'quantum mechanical' feel of this poem. Softly bothers me a little. Not because it isn't apt, but because it seems almost cliched, or something encountered in a romance novel. Or maybe because 'soft' appears again shortly afterwards, modifying oddities. I don't feel that in the rest of the narrative.

What is an 'unlived life'?

I don't really have a lot to add.