"OPEN ARMS" what do you guys think?????????

Question

i know it sucks but then again i've been up all night with out sleeping

OPEN ARMS

people run from death

but one day its gonna catch up with them

they try to go and hide from him

but there is no one they can confide in

every day

he takes people away

it's so hard to dissapere

when he whispers in your ear

"one day it's gonna be you turn"

so this is what i'd do...

just welome death with open arms

it wont be painful

wont be slow

it will be better without your own sorrow

welcome death with open arms

welcome death with open arms

welcome death with open arms

Answer 1

why so frustration in the poem?Please add some thing motivational and lively matter

Answer 2

great and means alot but  i am a girl

Answer 3

This is bloody fantastic! You have a rare talent. Oh my, this is just so evocative!

Answer 4

I think it was good and it is about God coming for us when it is our time. people have so much they want to do in life with so many liitle time and many set backs as well as obstacles in your way. I think instead of worrying about death let just think God for the life we have now, no matter how crappy and pointless it is, it could be worst.

Your poem was cool

Answer 5

Again, considering I have given this advice to another, break away from the rhyme, you don't seem to need it, and in fact, when you do use it it sounds a bit forced.  I would suggest you pay particular attention to the structure of your poem, otherwise you lack rhythm.  Also, make use of imagery, it always helps in a poem. Be a little more cryptic and enigmatic. A great poet wouldn't tell me (s)he is talking of death, (s)he would show me.  In fact here is a poem by Sylvia Plath, entitled, Lady Lazurus.  Plath too writes of death, suicide in fact, but notice how she does more showing than she does telling.

Lady Lazarus

I have done it again.

One year in every ten

I manage it-----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin

Bright as a n**i lampshade,

My right foot

A paperweight,

My featureless, fine

Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin

O my enemy.

Do I terrify?-------

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?

The sour breath

Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh

The grave cave ate will be

At home on me

And I a smiling woman.

I am only thirty.

And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.

What a trash

To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.

The Peanut-crunching crowd

Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand in foot ------

The big strip tease.

Gentleman , ladies

These are my hands

My knees.

I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.

The first time it happened I was ten.

It was an accident.

The second time I meant

To last it out and not come back at all.

I rocked shut

As a seashell.

They had to call and call

And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying

Is an art, like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like h**l.

I do it so it feels real.

I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.

It's easy enough to do it and stay put.

It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day

To the same place, the same face, the same brute

Amused shout:

'A miracle!'

That knocks me out.

There is a charge

For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge

For the hearing of my heart---

It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge

For a word or a touch

Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.

So, so, Herr Doktor.

So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,

I am your valuable,

The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.

I turn and burn.

Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash---

You poke and stir.

Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,

A wedding ring,

A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair

And I eat men like air