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voidroiid 's review for:
Milk and Honey
by Rupi Kaur
let me start off with my credentials.
i read poetry. i write poetry. i *love* poetry. i compete in slam competitions. i’ve had the incredible privilege of watching, competing against, and workshopping with some absolutely mind blowingly skilled poets that are working in the scene right now. i’m also afab and a victim of sexual assault that i have severe trauma from.
i shouldn’t have to start my review with that but here we are.
this is by far the most embarrassing excuse for poetry i’ve come across thus far. some of these poems are a sentence with a line break in the middle and that’s IT. these feel more like sloughed off, discarded lines from some larger, better work than actual poetry. it is uninspired, sorely lacking in imagery and metaphor and pretty much any other literary device you can think of. i actually cheered out loud, “there’s a rhyme!” about a third of the way through the book because i had finally come across something that vaguely resembled poetry. yes free verse doesn’t have to rhyme, but this hardly even qualifies as that. there are no motifs (aside from the occasional use of the word “honey” throughout the work) or repetition or wordplay or flow. absolutely nothing that indicates that it’s poetry aside from poorly placed line breaks. speak your truth, tell your story, whatever. but if you say you’re writing poetry, write some gd poetry.
i read poetry. i write poetry. i *love* poetry. i compete in slam competitions. i’ve had the incredible privilege of watching, competing against, and workshopping with some absolutely mind blowingly skilled poets that are working in the scene right now. i’m also afab and a victim of sexual assault that i have severe trauma from.
i shouldn’t have to start my review with that but here we are.
this is by far the most embarrassing excuse for poetry i’ve come across thus far. some of these poems are a sentence with a line break in the middle and that’s IT. these feel more like sloughed off, discarded lines from some larger, better work than actual poetry. it is uninspired, sorely lacking in imagery and metaphor and pretty much any other literary device you can think of. i actually cheered out loud, “there’s a rhyme!” about a third of the way through the book because i had finally come across something that vaguely resembled poetry. yes free verse doesn’t have to rhyme, but this hardly even qualifies as that. there are no motifs (aside from the occasional use of the word “honey” throughout the work) or repetition or wordplay or flow. absolutely nothing that indicates that it’s poetry aside from poorly placed line breaks. speak your truth, tell your story, whatever. but if you say you’re writing poetry, write some gd poetry.