Fever
Fever
By Rebecca
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8
My mind slipping,
my fingers so frail,
scrapping,
crawling.
Breath cold on my chest,
blowing icicles into my heart and lungs.
Shaking like a leaf in the wind.
My eyes itching with heat,
cataclysmic dark
forming around my pupils.
Clouding my already foggy vision.
A thirst unquenched,
for my throat
to dry to accept water's
leery invitation.
The only moisture is the sweat
sliding down my back,
tracing the veins
on my spine.
The smell of death lingering
in my clogged nostrils
Diving like a pulse into my skull
with sparks of raging pain.
Searing my skin and
licking my sides with blue flames.
Teasing me
with the ever coming
Rest,
that I've been ripped away from.
The rest, I cling to.
But the fire inside
burns black.
Contaminating my mind with
vicious lies
that lap against my inner thoughts
like an ocean
boiling.
Nice tension...
Got to say this one had me on the edge; I felt like the writer was, literally, just hanging on. A very visual and visceral expression of anxiety, fear, tension, etc. Nice job.
A thought on improving this: All writing benefits from revision. The best writers in the world are very good at revising their own work. This piece leaves me hanging; and while that's kind of appropriate, I found myself coming to the end wondering, 'OK where was this, is this, headed?' I wanted more from the ending; I was expecting an action, or some part of a story... Have you thought of continuing?
Thanks for sending it in.
geoff gevalt
ywp editor
Thanks so much for the feedback!
The poem I wrote was actually written while I had an 103 fever a couple of weeks ago. I revised it some but it is basically my ranting. Hehe, I was thinking of adding it to an on going story I've been writing but it doesn't fit to well. I was was pretty dramatic in this piece, I really did feel like I was dieing... but I think the fever was worth the poem! -Becca
Ahhh...
OK, so I'm a dummy. I didn't really catch that this was 103-degree temperature rantings.
thanks
gg
wow
You used so much detail that it felt real. Like it was happening to me as i read it. It seems like this is the type of poem that you can only write in the moment, when it is happening to you. Great job!
my favorite
this is one of my favorite pieces of writing you wrote. I adore the description and precision on the words you chose. nicely done