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Literature Text
The wind breezed through curtains waving in despair.
A tinkle of bells danced from the devil's lair
ringing with a distressful purpose, chilling the wind
that coursed, while fire tormented a soul within.
The brazen hue of dust preserving memories of bliss
trembled with the soft breeze like a wavering kiss.
These memories - stashes untainted by dust lay open
on the hoary flooring next to a person lying broken.
Locks black as the iris enveloped in gloom,
glide like a fresh spring, watering flowers to bloom,
to give way to orbs shining with the last tears.
She looked up from the curse of seclusion over years.
She glanced as the devil jeered and jingled its bells
denying her the sight that would undo the spells
that scorched her heart; remains only arid waste.
This pain, this torment, is one she fights not to face.
She heaved as the lifeless cage bound tight,
with its spacious windows, boasting plentiful light,
darkened the glimmer that the gust falsely rose;
further withering a lonely withered rose.
Shook laughs in her mind, eerie laughs long dead;
rose flowers from their graves to be torn to shreds.
Not much essence of life remained in her alas
even what was left wished to bleed away fast.
Yet a tinkle again - hummed a tinkle of hope
as the devil recoiled and the angels eloped.
The dust too vanished; it blew clear off the floor
as a bell tinkled lightly above the chamber door.
The light peering in through the widening crack
shone like blessings of heaven for the little shack
to echo again with laughter. Tears again rose
as her torment; her wait finally came to a close.
The stashes were bound, their contents unnamed.
Their melody was hushed, for new melody was claimed.
The shadows dissolved, wary doubt disappeared.
The devil was banished while the Angels prevailed.
She laughed and she cried as bells jingled around
the angels too smiled at such merry a sound.
The door was wide open; warmth openly spread.
Fresh sprouts bloomed anew from the withered flowerbed.
A tinkle of bells danced from the devil's lair
ringing with a distressful purpose, chilling the wind
that coursed, while fire tormented a soul within.
The brazen hue of dust preserving memories of bliss
trembled with the soft breeze like a wavering kiss.
These memories - stashes untainted by dust lay open
on the hoary flooring next to a person lying broken.
Locks black as the iris enveloped in gloom,
glide like a fresh spring, watering flowers to bloom,
to give way to orbs shining with the last tears.
She looked up from the curse of seclusion over years.
She glanced as the devil jeered and jingled its bells
denying her the sight that would undo the spells
that scorched her heart; remains only arid waste.
This pain, this torment, is one she fights not to face.
She heaved as the lifeless cage bound tight,
with its spacious windows, boasting plentiful light,
darkened the glimmer that the gust falsely rose;
further withering a lonely withered rose.
Shook laughs in her mind, eerie laughs long dead;
rose flowers from their graves to be torn to shreds.
Not much essence of life remained in her alas
even what was left wished to bleed away fast.
Yet a tinkle again - hummed a tinkle of hope
as the devil recoiled and the angels eloped.
The dust too vanished; it blew clear off the floor
as a bell tinkled lightly above the chamber door.
The light peering in through the widening crack
shone like blessings of heaven for the little shack
to echo again with laughter. Tears again rose
as her torment; her wait finally came to a close.
The stashes were bound, their contents unnamed.
Their melody was hushed, for new melody was claimed.
The shadows dissolved, wary doubt disappeared.
The devil was banished while the Angels prevailed.
She laughed and she cried as bells jingled around
the angels too smiled at such merry a sound.
The door was wide open; warmth openly spread.
Fresh sprouts bloomed anew from the withered flowerbed.
Okay... so this is not my typical writing style. I don't format works at all... (I do perhaps bold the crux of the work or format it completely but not in this way). This was for a competition by 
which needed formatting so I did it. I do realize that at the moment the story and emotions will not be the same as uneditted but try to ignore that for the time being (The judges won't be ignoring that). I removed the formatting 
Hopefully the like it... I would like suggestions over editting since I am new to it. Any feedback is welcome, both for the work and the formatting but please don't include the formatting in the ratting if you critique. I don't want a 2 star in impact because someone did not like the formatting. That said, I will again ask to comment on the formatting as well. Separately perhaps.There is a little reference to the "Chamber door" I know... I added it intentionally. Also, this work intermixes another work of mine which is one of my most well written works. When I upload that, you might know.edit: I added a final stanza and made a few tweaks
For those kind enough to critique:
1. Since it is a poem to be formatted, do critique on the formatting with the story.
2. Now ignoring the formatting, did you enjoy the work (copy onto Word if you want).
3. Was the storyline vague or did it register well?
4. Any favorite line/portion you may have?
5. General comments.
Thank you!
Edit: I went on to the next round! Good for me! Now I have removed the editing for those who were distracted by it (no hard feelings to the wonderful group) but I also have the edited version (with myself) so if someone needs it (I don't think they will) they can ask!
Comments133
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactI am a lonely bag who is pondering over the magnitude of your work, good human.
Thus I write this critique about this... almighty... hold on a minute, my english will let me down....
I understood the story! I will not talk about it because it was something as great... as a bag in a bag that sprouts the bag...
it is the story of the Sack, Sackarazu Bagagei... It, once upon a time, lived in seclusion, away from the furthest of the furthest parts of life where there was none save it to spare thought to the dwindling reality of its kind... hence, spoke to the sack, that the sack must elope to the dark side... and embrace destiny as the leader of the sacking... but light prevailed... and the goodness in the sack helped the sack to overcome the darkness within (notwithstanding the fact that Sackarazu would die from carrying wheat in excess amounts during the age of baggage, but who gives a bag about a sack anyway), and returning back to the baggage town from whence the sack came, it found a new meaning... a new life.. a new purpose...
now, onward to the critique:
1. Since it is a poem to be formatted, do critique on the formatting with the story.
It is formatted fine.
2. Now ignoring the formatting, did you enjoy the work (copy onto Word if you want).
I understood the story well: My personal favorite was the bells (ah, Poe is always popular, especially among the pouches *bag nod*) and the sky. The angel and the devil filled their rolls well, coming and going when need be; however the girl was the most poignant... sadly, she did not have a bag, because her tears would be wasted away as they were flowing out... we could have preserved them.
3. Was the storyline vague or did it register well?
Sackarazu Bagagei
4. Any favorite line/portion you may have?
She laughed and she cried as bells jingled around
the angels too smiled at such merry a sound.
The door was wide open; warmth openly spread.
Fresh sprouts bloomed anew from the withered flowerbed.
for the raven did not quote: Nevermore!
5. General comments.
You are now awarded a watch from this bag. Bravo.