I this poem good, any revisions I could make?
A small red dog lies on the kennel floor.
She never goes outside or is allowed to see other dogs.
Today a man throws a slab of raw meat to her and gives her some water, it smells funny.
She drinks it and her head throbs.
Soon the man is back, he yanks on her collar, and she follows him.
He brings her far into the woods into a circle of men and boys pointing and jeering.
She pulls away; she wants to leave, to go home.
The man hands her to someone else who washes her coat thoroughly with a rough cloth.
The man takes her back and thrusts her in “the pit”.
A black dog on the other side growls and lunges but its owner holds it back.
Someone blows a whistle and the dog charges her and grabs her neck ripping the flesh til’ her owner cries out in defeat.
The black dog is pulled off as she falls whimpering and twitching to the ground.
The man grabs her collar and drags her away, “get up stupid dog” he yells.
She stumbles and falls.
He swears and picks her up; he carries her to a bridge and snaps her leg bones with his hands.
He ties a brick to her and throws her over the edge, the water stings and she chokes on it.
She died as she lived, in pain, suffering, and longing.
Let this be a reminder that the owner is the killer, not the dog.
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Hi. Nice narrative poem i like your words choices between the stanzas, you painted a sad picture words yet lovely at the same time. Your poetic persona is different and unique. keep writing and sharing.
Too many redundant words. Just editing rather than writing..
Little red dog
Doesn't know what it means to be a dog
A slab of meat.
She eats.
She follows, worships every step, obeys
Men jeer
She pulls, wants home.
Dropped in the pit.
Black dog lunges.
Hold it back.
Whistle blows. Charges, grabs, rips flesh
Whimpers,.
Man howls in anger
A bridge and brick
She wonders what she did so bad.
it truly is one i latterly wrote: ~Time~ Time waits for no guy and that i’m getting older daily i'm in straight forward terms twenty 2 And my hair is popping gray i will’t think of right away understanding sooner or later I’ll wakeful and be twenty 8 So now I’ve have been given my funds on my recommendations recommendations on my funds You gained’t see me smile ‘reason there ain’t no longer something humorous Too many tribulations have have been given me feeling crummy a minimum of I’m nonetheless alive Is what I continuously tell myself yet in line with danger existence is overrated Locked interior this jaded cellular appears like I even have too plenty time yet no longer adequate in any respect So I spend my time writing rhymes, Racing clocks, and punching partitions slightly too self unfavorable? sure i know i'd be 09 would be plenty extra advantageous This to me seems very in all probability And if it’s no longer if it sucks like O8 I’ll become a marine and combat in Kuwait.
holy crap.
so good.
it seems like a ballad, but its more of a story. idk much about poetry, I've taken a few classes, but there doesn't seem to be much tone in it until the end. or many literary devices.
there is a lot of imagery though...which is kinda sad...
but the idea is inspiring. (y)
i liked the story behind it..it was a little boring though. no offense. constructive criticism