Thanks for writing about sport, a really important part of life that not enough gets written 'thoughtfully' about in my opinion. Your poem reminded me of how team sport can really bring 'relational skills' and 'getting things done' into harmony with each other - unfortunately at work or in other parts of life these are too often in conflict. You want to get something done so you trample people in the process. Or you care about everyone's feelings/opinions so much that you are afraid to make tracks in your own way. Team sport requires us to care about everyone we are playing with deeply whilst taking our own shots while we can get them - all in the space of seconds - and your poem captures that well. In particular, the third stanza was the one I could really connect with. My advice would be to start with this stanza: 'Sports owe their treasures...' and build out the concept from there. Stanzas 1 and 4 I understood the meaning but found the wording a little clunky. Stanza 2 I didn't quite get what you meant.
I read the truth of someone's experience of being manipulated in this poem. It is described well. The poem could use some metaphor, some kind of object or concrete sensory reference to hook our imaginations to.
Thanks for this poem. You have a very distinctive voice and I was hooked from the start to the end. I love the somewhat jumbled wording through which horrifying meanings seem to appear, as though a very traumatised person is speaking. The mixing of tenses is great too, like the confusion after a major shock.
I would suggest losing the lines: 'who doesnt know the unforetold story scribed in our hearts / that lesson they taught us when they presume to be ignorant' - as the line above does the job and it feels like overkill after a poem that otherwises uses very effective imagery and no extraneous lines.
Typing decisions without reasons can really throw readers off, so I'd make the first letters of the first two lines lower case unless there is a really clear reason you wanted them upper case (was not obvious to me if so) and lose the space between 'spirits' and the comma.
I really like the idea of this poem and particularly the phrase 'peddler of pain'. The stanza that stands out for me is 'I wear a crown of an author, with crumpled pages in my hands, used to wipe away blood, from my self-inflicted wounds.' This metaphor is the best thing about the poem for me. I would start with this stanza and build it from there.
Some beautiful imagery here. 'Creation's palm' and 'a fortune of light', 'finding warmth in giving warmth' are all pleasing to read and give this idea of the sun as a kind of mystical mother figure.
'From a majestic distance' doesn't quite fit with the image that's being built around celestial energy and smiles through cracks. It sets us apart from the sun, when the rest of the poem feels like it's putting us in her arms.
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