"Writing even when they're tired" Yep! That's me right now!
I just read another poem, and apologized from the start as my analytical skills for poetry are a bit rusty. I say this because I notice your poem also lacks punctuation, with the exception of second sentence of the third stanza:
Looking deep within their soul
Understanding is their goal,
Don't know why you decided to insert a comma, but it broke it up a bit for me and I kept trying to put commas in it as I read it.
I do like the rhythm to this piece, and the rhyming scheme works. It seems to be a fairly accurate portrayal of writers plying their trade. It is not an easy thing to do, in any sense.
The line 'But still they concentrate to write" strikes me as a little out of place. I get that it means they try to focus on writing and ignore rejection letters, bills and every day stuff, but I'm not sure "concentrate" is the correct word. Or maybe it's the phrase "concentrate to" but something just strikes me as a little odd. Maybe it's just me as "concentrate" usually had to do with a complicated Calculus problem. Or perhaps I am just overtired and following the poem's advice by continuing to ply my trade. ;)
Please forgive me as my analytical skills for poetry are quite rusty so I'm not sure if this is a particular type of poem, which is why there is a lack of punctuation.
I like the simplicity of this piece, and how something sort of tangible, like knowledge, has an impact on the intangible, like the soul. "Darkness corrupts my ideas" is my favorite line, though I wonder exactly what "darkness" refers to. The "Does duty call me" line makes me think of the military, which makes me think the "darkness" relates more to death than lost love.
Perhaps the poem is about the military, and joining up as an idealist only to be hardened by reality. Or perhaps it is about love and relationships and how idealistic relationships can be crushed by reality.
I suppose that's another thing that makes this poem good: it can have more than one meaning.
I think it could benefit from some punctuation, though, to help steer the reader and get a better sense of where to pause and ponder.
First off, put breaks between paragraphs as it will make it easier on the eyes and thus easier to read. Took me a couple tries to figure that out myself. ;)
In the 8th paragraph, you say "Grandad" whereas before, you said "grandfather."
The title of this piece is "Christmas with Grandfather," but you don't get to the grandfather part until the fourth paragraph. I found myself wanting to know about Christmas with Grandfather right away and skimmed through the first couple paragraphs talking about the dread of Christmas. I share that dread, also thinking the holiday arrives earlier and has gotten too commercial. It seems to be a common affliction, and I was more interested to know about Christmas with Grandfather.
I expected it to be about Christmas Day with Grandfather, perhaps a set of family rituals or something special that was done, especially when you talk about what Christmas means in childhood.
I think the piece would work better, have more meaning emotionally, intellectually and figuratively, on all levels really, if you were to hone in and focus on the day itself with grandfather. I do like the mention of his charities, and perhaps you can work that in as it speaks to a greater good. But I'm curious as to what Christmas with Grandfather looks like from the eyes of a kid who grew up spending his Christmas's with Grandfather.
I liked this poem until the second to last stanza where the list of things wrong ("consumerized, insignificant, pawnbroked" etc.) breaks the rhythm of the piece.
I like the imagery, and the line "Who knows how the Isle of the gods would look in the frame of our tourist lens" and "we would be as one but always alone." Both phrases bring a uniqueness to a common topic.
"smell of tabacco now filling the park air. " do you mean tobacco? Or is it mispelled on purpse?
"He scooped her off the grass and placed her in the front seat of his car, driving to a nearby park he remembered spotting on the way
up there. As he pulled out of the apartment complex, he heard a moan coming from the passenger seat. " Timing issue. He's driving to the park (inferring he's already out of the apartment complex) but hears a moan while pulling out of the apartment complex. Might want to clarify. Have him hear the moan while driving out of the apartment complex and towards a park he passed on the way. Also, the use of "front seat" and then "passenger seat" is a little confusing. Might say passenger side. And does he put the seatbelt on her?
Read with caution indeed, though I think, if you wanted to, you could make it tighter. The description in the beginning is good, a good opening scene to this story. I don't get a clear visual image in my head of Keith though. It starts out as a frat-boy drop out (probably from the frat-boy mixture comment), then a Southern redneck heavy-set type and then some combination of the two.
Might read through it very carefully and find spots to insert a little more description so the reader get's an even better idea of Keith.
The use of the bird at the beginning and at the end is a nice touch. Provides a connection to the beginning, though it sort of strange that Kieth doesn't mind killing a bird but does mind killing a woman. Do they symbolize something different for him that causes the sense of panic at the end instead of the joy or the pereception of doing a favor as seen in the beginning with the bird?
Umm....wow. What a bizarre story. For a moment there, when you talk about he drawing pencil and leaving it on the kitchen table, I thought of that Avi story about the boy with the keychain and how the keychain transferred back in time. "Something Upstairs" I think it's called.
There is some room to develop this story some more. Delve a little deeper in Darren. What was his previous job? Why did he quit? Why does he like to sketch so much? Why does he have to use a particular pencil? Why not just stop at the store and get one and go back to the park instead of all the way back to his house?
What does Rita do? Why doesn't she try and claim spousal abuse, get a court order? Why does she resort to drugs? Where does she get the drugs? Why does she want a divorce? Why doesn't she just let Darrne be? Why isn't she so accepting? Why does she like material things? Does she work? Does she sell drugs to make ends meet?
There is potentional in this story and it would be interesting to see how it develops.
It did make me smile! My older brother and his wife just had their first child, a baby boy, last weekend, and reading this poem makes me think of them and how quickly kids grow up these days.
This poem is certainly light verse and "cute"! It is very soft-spoken and simple. I do not quite understand the last stanza though. Each day is enjoyed like a lifetime of wonder? Or each day is enjoyed or full of a lifetime of wonder when the 2-year-old is not sleeping? Or do the naps stretch like a lifetime full of wonder?
There is a very strong emotional charge to this piece, and understandably so. You do a good job of capturing not only the sadness of five lives changing drastically, but also a sense of helplessness and frustration at too little being done too late.
In terms of the writing, adjusting some of the wording and phrases might help enhance the piece, and make it more poignant. You use "surprise" and "destiny" often in this piece, and you might try finding other words that mean the same thing. Maybe try to work with the rhyming scheme a bit.
"In the other car, four people received an awful surprise,
Colliding with the drunkard, and three met their ends" might work a little better if "ends" is replaced with "demise" so there is a bit more rhyme and rhythm to the piece.
That might run the risk of detracting a bit from the message, but I think if you play with the wording and tighten the rhythm a bit, the message will be more clear and powerful.
First off, WELCOME! You've entered into a very supportive, helpful, creative environment where you'll always find something new. So, again, welcome.
Did you have a particular song in mind when you wrote this? The rhythm seems awfully familiar. Not a particular song, persay but perhaps a tune?
I like it. It has a nice flow, like you can hear the music in the background, underneath the lyrics. It almost seems like you can put any type of music to it. Make it a ballad, draw the chorus out a little bit, or turn it into more of a rock'n'roll song.
Ah yes. Sleep. That wonderful, sometimes very elusive thing that can help or hinder writers. Some write best on very little sleep, other need a good sleep to craft their thoughts.
I like the repeition in this poem. For some reason it works for me, acts like the glue that holds it together. Like a frame.
Phrases like "ward off morning," "restore my strenght," are also good.
This is a good attempt at writing a story using only dialogue. It is tricky. You have to create a visual picture completely through conversation and move the plot along as well.
Setting it in a laundro mat is good. It took a minute in the beginning to realize it was to people talking, two women, and not appliances. Maybe it's just me, but talking about replacing appliances made me think the appliances were talking to each other. A rather creative idea.
Anyway, the best suggestion I can make to help improve this story is to read Hemingway's short stories like "A Clean, Well Lighted Place" or "Hills Like White Elephants." Both are told entirely through dialogue and both are excellent studies in how dialogue can create a mental picture, create a plot and move that plot along.
I don't know what it is. There seems to be a cancer epidemic. Every day I either hear that someone I know, or someone a family member or friend knows has cancer. My aunt died of cancer Easter Sunday. What the heck is going on?
Anyway, I like the use of the baseball cap in this piece. It works well as a dramatic object. It creates a nice connection for the son and father as well. A memento of a last good memory.
Going through the first couple stages of the grieving process was good too. I remember feeling the same way after watching my aunt die. I still get pissed when I think about it.
I'm not sure about the italics part. If it is a dream, or a memory that filters through as a dream, it might help to make that clear just before you go into the flashback. Like the boy closed his eyes, remembering how his mother had chosen to tell him about his father, and then go into the flashback. It will seem less choppy.
Why did the mother tell her son herself? Why did the mother and father not tell him together? Did she take her husband to the hospital, come back and tell her son? Was the father already at the hospital? Is there a reason the father took his son to a baseball game instead of a soccer game or a football game? Does the sport of baseball have special meaning for them? He goes out to play baseball with his friends at the end of the story. Is basebal how he rememebrs his father?
I'd be interested to see where this story goes if you are going to continue working on it.
A very, what's the word, placid, maybe? Ordinary? Simple. A simple story. All very basic. Mix a drink, give it to the customer, exchange a few courteous/friendly words, clean the bar, mix a drink, give it to the customer, exchange some more friendly words.
What might make this story more interesting is to allow the reader to take in the whole sensory perception of the bar. What does it smell like? Is it well lit? Dark? Loud? Quiet? What is it's clientel like? Young 20-somethings, middle-aged working stiffs, mostly men, mostly women, a mix? Hookers? Cops? Music? What?
Provide more detail about the place, make it a setting as it seems important to the story. Why does Barry go there everyday? What's the attraction? How long has Roger been working there? Is he an old guy? Out of shape? Fit and trim? Muscular? Does Roger know to expect Barry at a certain time every day? Does he remember the first time Barry came into the bar?
Barry seems to be a man of few words. Was he always like that? Or his is life just off-kilter he has little to say? What does Barry look like? What kind of clothes is he wearing? Does he carry a briefcase? Is he a mill/mine worker? Manual labor?
There is plenty of room for expansion with this piece. It has promise. It just depends on which direction you want to go. I'd certainly be interested in reading a revision, that is of course if you are going to continue working on the piece, and I hope you do.
One thing: "as she was when we meet," I think you meant "met."
There is a nice sensitvity to this piece, and a nice mixture of past and present. Despite the illness, she never changed in the eyes of the narrator. What was inside, what the person whom he fell in love with was like, didn't change, which is an important point. I sometimes wonder if illness doesn't bring out the real person, or challenge the people around to still see the real person. I imagine it is difficult for the afflicted person to maintain a sense of self, of that real person as well.
Ah yes, the poem equating love to the sea. I like how this narrator person to be on shore rather than tumbling around the sea. Patience, too, seems to be a theme in this poem. You need patience to ride out a storm on the sea, just as you need patience when it comes to relationships.
A rather fresh approach to the love-sea poem. Nicely done.
Might have been intentional, but is "Jus" supposed to be "Just"? And is "Tyres" supposed to be "Tires"?
I like the imagery in this poem, especially the first stanza. "Like metallic blood in concrete veins and tarmac arteries" is an awesome line. You do a good job of using sensory perception in this poem as well. The sights, the sounds. You might try adding smell into the mix to give the reader an even more poigant experience.
This would make a great song. After the first two stanzas I thought it was just missing a refrain, but then it repeated itself which answered my question. It has a rhythm all it's own, which is good. I like the "want" vs "need" in each stanza as well.
Nicely done.
This is a very nice, well written piece that can be interpreted on many different levels. On one level it seems as if the narrator has a delayed reaction to the event. "I missed the day that claimed so many/But now my friend is gone." That friend could be grief that has given way to anger/sorrow/no feeling at all. The puff might be condensed air when you breath in the cold.
The pictures on the wall remind me of the site itself. They have the Towers from start to finish to destruction and the pictures on big posterboard run across the site. It's rather impressive, even if it is depressing.
I like "I've moved on/The world has not/Yet I feelt left behind." I think that's my favorite line. Layers again. A sense of moving on yet still feeling left behind happens during certain stages of life.
The thing with poetry is that you have more freedom when it comes to punctuation and grammar and such. ee cummings is one poet that comes to mind.
This is a nice poem. I like the idea of a child imagining God crying when it rains. I used to think angels were bowling when there was thunder! I like the line "we catch His tears in our tongues." That was good. The idea of God having a back porch is interesting. It puts Him in a particular spot rather than being omniscent. The prayer falling to the ground in tiny wet pieces was a good line too.
Clever. Very clever. The actual band made big news with pirated music downloads, and if memory serves they were the most vocal against something like Napster.
Though the band and the incident itself at not disguised very well, having them kidnap a person and beat them to death is an interesting twist on the whole situation. The heavy metal image takes on new meaning, and I like the use of the Louisville sluggers. Nice touch.
A different take on a very public issue. A band takes matters into it's own hands, which sort of makes you wonder if they themselves will be caught and tried for their criminal acts.
This is a nice tribute poem to your daughter. It starts from the beginning, her birth, and travels quickly through the stages of life that we all recognize. I sort of expected there to be some hint as to what the two of you have been through, and the only hint is the turmoil in your life which can be any number of things. It is clear that your daughter is very special to you, that comes through very well in the poem and works as a tribute. One can infer that your daughter was always in the picture somehow during the turmoil you briefly mention, and that she had an impact of some sort.
It being a tribute, it is difficult to mention much about the turmoil since it might detract from the importance your daughter has in your life, but it might be worth a shot to include a line or two more specific about the turmoil so the reader gets a better sense of how your relationship has blossomed rather than disintegrated.
Just a thought.
I really like the beginning of this piece. The description of the message, the annoucements randomly to the mailman, the sitting down and hands pulsating like a little heart until the husband comes home and then the sudden dismissal without explanation. You took a rather large event and managed to condense it down into it's basic, most emotionally charged moment.
There are a few typos and gramatical things. For example, the g in "get the f*** out" should be capitalized. Little things like that which are easily fixed via careful proof reading.
Part 2 seems more like a reflection of that emotionally charged opening and is interesting in and of itself. The shift in POV threw me a bit and it might be an interesting experiment to write the whole thing from one POV, keep it third person or keep it first. Just a thought.
Good. Nice snapshot of one particular instance in a mental institution. Ellie doesn't seem like the rest, until the story gradually divulges her past and essentially what put in the place. That gradual release of details works well, and you get the sense that Ellie if fighting being there until the end when she repeats "I love me not" to herself over and over. Seems as if she's given up, resigned herself to being there. Her belligerent attitude seems to dwindle at the end.
It would be interesting to see more about the accident and what transpired. Was it her mother who put her in the institution? A family member? In a sense such details might seem insignificant, but it might also help in painting a more fuller picture of Ellie.
LOL! A funny near-death experience indeed. Though it's told as if you were telling friends, it works well. It provides a nice flow, and I'm sure plenty of people can identify with unflattering uniforms! Reads like a universal story with a bit of humor. The part about your life flashing before your eyes, not having a driver's liscense and not even making it to 2nd base yet is really good.
Writing humor is difficult, but you have done a nice job. Taken what could be a rather dramatic, it not traumatic experience, and place a humorous spin in it. The boss asking about the name tag is a nice touch as well. I remember summer bosses like that as well!
Again, nicely done.
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