"Beneath," he says to me as I fall behind the shawls
And crawl, despairing, as the shadows creep along.
"Oh, God, is nothing right?"
I hope.
I feel
Nothing. And all I have left is my invisible touch,
As he chases me to the depths of Hell.
I'm breathing, quick and shallow.
Like a pool of rippling ecstasy,
I decease
With a artificial bomb exploding in my veins
But I do not weep.
I fear to cry
For the Demon stands beside me,
Cackling and remorseless;
I try to stand, but
No one is there to help me stay,
And so.
I fall, bequeath unto the Master
To live.
He laughs again, so cold for a demon so heated,
And then he says, "I shan't.
You'll die. That's all."
I cease in the realm of living, but soon
Am promoted to a living God.
Purified.
Ves, I'm not really a poet, my poetry tends to run to word play and humor, but may I suggest that you're forcing it. If you'd really like constructive criticism, let me make some suggestions, since we've come to know each other a bit, now.
"Submit," he says as I cower beneath a thin shawl ('to me' is superfluous, 'thin' and 'cower' imply that you are defenseless.)
and crawl, despairing, as his menacing shadow hovers.
"Oh, God, why have you abandoned me?" I cry.
I suffer.
I hope for succor.
Nothing. All that remains is the fiery breath on the back of my neck,
as he chases me into the eternal fires of hell.
I'm breathing, quick and shallow,
and my hope becomes a lie. (ecstasy has does not fit here, despair is apt)
Then I expire (decease is not a verb)
with emotions exploding in every cell (bombs seldom belong in an emotional poem.)
But I do not cry;
I refuse to to subside,
though the Demon stands over me, (beside me sounds like the demon is supporting you)
Cackling and unforgiving. (why should you care if the devil feels remorse for his actions? we're in
your point of view)
I try to stand, but
without the help of others, my brothers, I cannot remain among the living
And so.
I fall, beseeching my prospective master
that, for my loved ones, I might survive.
He laughs again, so cold for a demon who reeks from the ovens of hell.
He smirks and says, "I offer no mercy.
It is not in my nature. You shall die."
And then I abandon the realm of mortality, but soon
am promoted to the status of a living God.
Do you see the differences? Minor, yet powerful. Action verbs, descriptive adjectives and metaphors. Instead of "so heated" it's "who reeks from the ovens of hell." "invisible touch" has become "fiery breath on the back of my neck." "I feel" is vague, yet "I suffer" is descriptive and much more precise.
Use the words for all they're worth, they're all a writer has. There are also rhymes that I have insinuated, yet this remains a non-rhyming poem since they are not exact rhymes and the poem has no meter. hovers-suffer-succor hell-cell unforgiving-living why-I-my-expire-cry-try-fiery-fires-lie-subside-expire-survive-die. Not rhymes, in the exact sense, yet they give the poem a rythmic sound.
The last two lines are suggestive of a hidden meaning behind the poem, yet I cannot decipher it, if it is there. These lines don't seem to fit. Re-think this ending and you may have achieved a truly meaningful, evocative poem. Hope that helps. It is a wonderful, emotional poem, but the passive language makes it seem insipid.
