Quote your poem and rate the one above yours.

This type of thread was my favorite on the old Wattpad clubs. I hope I’m not breaking any rules by resurrecting this thread. I would regularly share a poem of mine and wait 'till others rate it. The rules are simple: read the poem above yours, rate the poem ./10, and share your own poem. I’ll begin the thread.

Title: Perfection
From: Sliver of Hope

Imagine having the life you want,
Parents supportive of your passions,
Willing to do anything to make you smile,
Not making you a carbon copy.

Imagine having the life you want,
A significant other that reflects
The ones you see in Disney movies,
Not breaking your heart in any way.

Imagine having the life you want,
Friends trustworthy of your secrets,
Complete with being yourself,
Not faking your way to acceptance.

Imagine having the life you want,
Your best friend shows you far more
Compassion than you give yourself,
Not being bitter whenever you cry.

Imagine having the life you want,
Teachers caring for your issues,
Even sacrificing class time to help you,
Not making your grades top priority.

Imagine having the life you want,
Guidance counselors carefully
Listening to your darkest thoughts,
Not calling you crazy.

Imagine having the life you want,
Coming home from a stressful day,
Knowing you have family to comfort you,
Not worsening your stress.

Imagine having the life you want,
Always smiling at your surroundings,
Excited to show everyone your true self,
Not being shamed for your differences.

What if your dreams aren’t far-fetched?
What if you fulfill enough to be happy?
Ever thought that your life
May not be a total lost after all?


I thought a quote would be short like, just part of the poem :thinking: But anyway :wink:


Repetitions can sometimes work and sometimes not. This one was kind of not for me. Maybe you could add a bridge stanza and break up the repetition like you did at the end. Putting a non “Imagine having the life you want” stanza at the end kind of through me off a bit to tell you the truth. I felt like you could have just left it out.

Mine: quoted from “The one in the river” from collection “Melancholy”. This is the beginning first two stanzas.

I take her hand, and,
it just slips away like,
I have butterfingers or something.
She falls into the water
with a tiny, insignificant splash.
And then, she is all alone.

I try to grab her again but,
she’s like driftwood,
never looking back toward the shore,
and floating away down the river,
not knowing where it’s taking her.
But, she is all alone.

The lines feel like they have been cut in unnecessary moments and some bits feel informal.(Especially "it just slips away like / I have butterfingers or something)
Also you say she is all alone but the next stanza starts with “I try to grab her again”, so she’s not alone yet? But I do like the second stanza!

From Recreationals poem Thirteen.

I am on the line,
Between desperate and divine,
A mess but not completely,
A wreck but you complete me,
And butterflies come to me like I’m nectar,
I guess I deceive their retina,
And I can feel them hitting my stomach’s walls,
Because you love me despite my flaws,
It’s so sweet, I don’t believe it,
Love exists and you confirm it,
Hyper and shaky, your words leave me a hickey,
Call me your baby, call me your babe,
I think it’s fate, you’re the light and I walk that way,
Eros comes when he’s least expected, that I claim,
But he never, ever misses his aim.


If I could do it all with you again,
I’d tell you to leave me faster.
If I could take more pictures with you,
I would make a bigger fire.
If I could write a song for you,
You probably wouldn’t like it.
Because if I could sing that song to you,
There would be no love left in it.

I’d give yours an 8.5/10. It flows nicely and just sounds beautiful all in all.

My poem is about a complicated past with someone and wishing you could do it again so that you could stick up for yourself faster and not endure the pain they put you through for as long as they did.

1 Like

Title: Astray

for she was a girl
who had harboured jealousy
wrapping her fingers around a beautiful nebula,
an immoral intention to wring its colors away.

alas, oh alas,
the light it radiated
had scarred her palms
the evidence of a girl who robbed for poverty’s pleasure
the thirst leading her astray.


I’ll give you a 8/10. Your poems do evoke emotion in me! And the use of repetition makes it catchy :wink:


I’ll give this one 7/10. It’s quite interesting to read, but the language seems a little confusing. Though, I suppose, poetry is supposed to be.


I once held a soul in my hands.
It was small, and fragile, and pale,
Not the black shard of glass I’d been expecting.

It was bent, but not broken,
A little twisted in places, but whole, nonetheless.
Not the hollow, cold rock I’d imagined it to be.

It was hope, and truth, and belief,
The purest thing in the world.
Not the bleak darkness I’d been waiting for.

I once held a soul in my hands
It was real, and true, and bright,
It was not, I thought, as I looked upon it, unlike my own.

6/10 the poem was really good but i feel like it didn’t end on a strong note. Very interesting though

The ones who like to drink
He was not alone, yet being alone is sometimes better than bad company.
I met him outside of a burger joint one day. He was sitting there on the steps
With a bottle of Martini and some drowned hope. He had suitcase which I
assumed was his whole luggage. He gave me some martini.
Was good.
The poor fish told me he lived in a garage not far from the station.
He asked if I had anything to drink. I could see he was out of hope.
Pure desperation in his eye, and I know the hunger he experienced.
So I bought him a few beers and we sat there on the the steps drinking.
People came by the train station next to the burger joint.
Funny how they never notice the likes of him. But I saw that they paid notice to me.
Some laughed others pointed fingers.
For he was in bad shape, and I was not.
And the homeless are always invisible to the vast crowd.
He said, the garage he lived in was close by.
But funny enough I never saw him again.
I hope he was okay.

It took me a couple reads to fully understand what was happening, but once I understood what was happening I really like the story. I think if you fleshed out the scene through a bit more description it would be a really nice piece.


She emptied me.
Took a spoon to my stomach;
carved me out like a pumpkin,
then left.

I waited and wondered
when she come back
would she noticed
how insides bellowed
and a thin layer of mold
covered scrap marks.

Or after she saw the mess,
leave again.

1 Like

I like the ending 7/10
Though i think the pumpkin metaphor kinda broke the spell you where building.
But i love the ending though. Your style is very simple and concise i like that. too many poems have to much filler content tbh

Thin Ice
She told me I was on thin ice.
I didn’t know why.
She never seemed to have the courage to stand up to me before.
But something shifted inside of her.
She was always crying, even when I was mad and I felt hurt and needed comfort.
She took it away from me.
I blamed her for a long time for the things I had to go through.
But she was too caught up in her own sorrows, so every kiss I planted. Every comforting word, fell on deaf ears.
She just wanted to be right, and pitied.
Looking back I wish things could’ve been different.
But I know, for once in my life, it wasn’t my fault.
Perhaps I could’ve been kinder. But I did the best I could.
I was a good boyfriend. That time and that time alone.
Other relationships have flown before me, never settling on love.
It seems I’m destined to find comfort in others but never love.
It seems as though the ones I do love, destroy me.
But I can take it.
Because I know, love is still out there. I can still feel that emotion.
A feeling I once thought incapable of anymore.
And I’ve found that being in love, whether its reciprocated or not is genuine in itself.
I’m comfortable as I am… alone.
And as Bukowski said: I like myself.
I’m the best form of entertainment I have.
I hope you feel the same about you.
I hope you find comfort… in yourself.

9/10 I love the way it shifted from kind of sad to a little bit more happy and the way I read it was truly enjoyable. I really loved it, but there were some things that are a bit tweak-able. I almost felt a rhythm but it was a little off. I mean, that’s really it.

I watch you walking in the halls
Hand in hand, together
I wish I could say I came out on top
But you’re doing so much better
I have lonely nights on my couch
Watching all my shows
I have snacks but I’m not happy
Cause everybody knows
You have her
You have all of her and more
And she has you
She has more than I ever could
I wish I could say that I’m better without you
But I’m sitting alone and you have her

Mine is called You Have Her.

8/10. This poem explored unrequited love well. My only problem is that you didn’t probe deeper into the topic where you really let the narrator’s feelings out.

Given that September’s National Suicide Prevention Month, here’s a poem I wrote that deals with the themes. Hope you enjoy.

A pen whose ink
Can only be harvested
By drawing lines on your skin
Lies on the palm of your hands.

It’s no ordinary pen,
Not like a non-erasable pencil,
But one whose handle
Contains a serrated blade.

With each line pours blood,
It crawls away from your skin
For use as fuel to your pen
At the expense of your blood supply.

The first time you did it,
Your arms burned,
Felt like it was tearing apart
To the point you wanted to scream.

The more you did it,
The pain lessened to numbness,
Replacing such sensations
With smiles on your face.

It’s a taste you acquired,
An addiction even,
And this pen is no pen,
But a knife.

Knives belong to the kitchen
And blood belongs to your body,
But you desperately sought
A cure from all your misery.

What if I told you
That you were doing it wrong?
I doubt you’d listen,
But listening could save your life.

I know it’s hard to quit,
Hard to resist this knife’s compulsion,
But you know what makes it easier?
Throwing the knife away.

Your body may be strong,
Heals every time
You slash your skin,
But are those scars worth it?

Before you use that knife again,
Think about what’s worth living for,
Think about the positives of your life,
However little it may be.

Reach out for help.
Find people who would understand,
For there are people who can relate.
You are not alone.

1 Like

8.5/10 It was beautifully written and very true to that feeling and what it truly is, but poems almost always take those turns and it makes it less effective, if it had a more haunting effect, where something more serious actually did happen, it would’ve been a huge break from huge happy endings and really added that extra something, you could still add something like that, but it turns happier too soon.

His hair, his eyes, his nose
His everything
But I can only think of you
It only takes a sweater
Or your favorite movie
Because I can only see you
There are so many things
Running through my head
But they’re only memories of you
But there’s only one thing I hate most
And that is only you.
Why’d you leave me here?
Cause now it’s the memories,
That and only me.


There where some love cliches that stood out. But overall it didn’t detract too much from the story. i love the internal struggle between the two.

A love letter to a thing of beauty

Oh there you are again my darling.
Did you dare to spring out.
When the sun had faded, here you are.
Your tender silver light fades over the horizon.
Words from somewhere familiar.
Yet I don’t know where.
Wind blowing against the tree tops.
Over the lakes mirroring back the shining beauty.

You my darling, my mistress my pale blue goddess.

1 Like

I loved the content, the subject and the words all stood out and wove a beautiful scene of nature and emotion. But the wording and the meter feel somewhat jagged, and gave me a sort of bumpy experience while reading. And capitalizing every first word in the lines is confusing, for it is clear that some sentences shouldn’t end with the line, and yet you added a period and a capital letter. Honestly, unless your poem is an acrostic, don’t capitalize words unnecessarily.

(please understand I’m trying to be constructive and if I came out as hurtful then I apologize)

We are Gods.

We are the makers of worlds and dreams.
Every idea, just for being thought and given a name,

Comes into existence in a way;
Reality and imagination are one and the same,
Except for the separation between them by the mind.
Anything can be, with just a single thought.
Though reality is truthfully just poorly defined,
Everything is possible, if you think and dream a lot.

Besides the obvious imagination routine,
You can use that to teach and inspire.

Then people will see your unique spark all around,
Hereby lighting a revolutionary fire.
Inside our minds, infinite possibilities waiting to be,
Nagging to be set out into reality.
Knowing words won’t always help explain
Ideas bursting to get out from inside your brain.
Now you understand, feeling is something words can’t top.
Go out now and create! Dream and never stop!


8/10 your poem was nice. i enjoyed reading it. however, while the rhyming is flawless, as well as the grammar, i feel as though it’s not the most memorable. i don’t mean to offend you, but honestly, there’s some pretty great poetry out there. i think that if you want a professional career in the poetry industry, this, (i am so sorry) will not get you far.

tl;dr: good, not memorable.

from my poem evangeline

she carried secrets

they were neither here nor there,

but nestled in the folds of her party dresses

and tucked inside red-lipped kisses’

she knew nothing, but yet everything

she’d seen the world without even exiting

her modest, sunburnt town.

i knew her once,

knew the way she whispered to the wind,

knew the exact shade of her butterfly eyes

but when i tried to catch her,

tried to pin her down on a map,

there was no girl

only the wind

and a single, red-lipped voice

1 Like

It’s okay. I’m not looking for a professional career; I write for fun.:smile:
Thanks for the feedback though!:upside_down_face:

(PS Idk how many of you noticed the acrostic…)

8/10 Good imagery. I like how it lets the reader make their own interpretation. And the longing voice she had was clear. This is good tbh.

Title: alter ego

glaring eyes in the mirror,
wishing you had voice to utter.
i screamed sorrow unto you,
and you shattered into broken pieces.

the shards revealed the distant past;
the ones that both of us used to have.
but now we dwell in a warzone
with darkness injected in our heads.

a darkness that once a shadow;
a shadow that they crossed over me.
it was you, my shadow,
my reflection, my greatest foe.

you grew and devoured my sanity.
each time i see you, i see tragedy.
now that it’s always a struggle,
i marveled if i’ll ever find light in the tunnel.

can you tell me how to improve my poem? i post here to get better and you’re kinda leaving me in the dark.