I particularly liked the passage sue picked out. And yes, this is better than the original.

One thing I'd say (and hahahahahahahahaha I haven't been able to write for a few months now)
is that I want to read what I can't write, and I think you have it in parts here. I guess I want the metaphors to serve the spirit
and not go in place of it, and I think this is less immediate than it could be.

'I think I should have loved you presently,
and given in earnest....

a ghost in marble of a girl you knew,
who might have loved you in a week or two.'

and all the in-between, but there are rhythms there, quickening, measuring, mapping, unfolding, and the sum of it is something quite unforgettable, and so I reckon there's more here too.

db

Hi Sue, very nice to see you here and to see your work again.
I hope I haven't missed you.

His coming home alive was only half
the battle. Acting like he cared at all
for anyone or thing, to simply laugh,
was hell. Awakened, crouching in the hall,
not knowing where he was or why he should
survive, he raised the gun, and felt the scar
where once had been a cheek; then slowly stood.

I feel like i want your words to fork some lightning or to overwhelm me with the rightness of simplicity or to paint something i couldn't have seen. At present i think you have a workable scene where all the dots line up, although I think L7 could be strengthened as it seems a bit mechanical in its description. I feel overall, rather than seeing someone waking up not knowing where they are, it might enliven the story more if through the descriptions we get a sense of where he isn't (the battlefield etc)


By morning he'd retrieved his old guitar,

I like that this line tells me he stayed up all night, though for the sake of the story and in the interests of cohesiveness i'd kind of like it if the whole coming back, waking up, retrieving the guitar etc etc all happened in one set of time, either over a night and day or over many nights and days, otherwise the transition from the one night to countless hours is less smooth than it might be imo.


a scratched-up, string-less wreck he vowed to save.
I watched him recreate an instrument.
As countless hours of renovations gave
him purpose, he was peaceful and content.
He strummed his own renditions.

I think you could use the action to suggest the mood state, because as it stands the movement to/interest in the guitar suggests peace and a smoothing out of things, a settling of self/coming to terms with the old and new etc.




Those refrains
still echo in the dusk of day's remains.

By contrast and in relation to what I just said, these lines almost seem out of place because they are such a departure from the ones that proceed them. That works and doesn't work.

I guess I want a sense of who he is and what he's come from and how, in particular, the music, moments leave us with a sense of him.


hope that's not too much.
I don't know what I think about crit anymore but then I haven't exactly immersed myself in the culture/environment.

It's really nice to see you here. I missed ya.

db

hey everyone,

thanks for the time and thought, I appreciate that, I apologize for the tardiness, that's due in part to the fact that I'm moving and also because I wanted to see what people said.

Bent is different to stooped in that the one applies to flexibility within the relationship for the good of the relationship whereas the other implies going out of the way to examine something, at least this is the idea.

I can understand the glitch surrounding wood bench, and excuse the pun, but I intend that to be a little choppy, it marks a volta of sorts in that this was originally a sonnet (and still is) that unwinds after the word green. It's reverse looking or something green referring to youth etc etc.

Sorry for the all in one reply. Thanks for the points to consider.

db

I think that between both versions you are getting it covered.
I liked the original closing couplet because there's more of an emotional impact to those lines as they relate to the nostalgia. They are quite sad and whether that was intentional or not I think it's something that lifts this poem. I liked 'retrieves a rhythmic water tune.

the original was strobger in relation to the light at the bar because at least you had the sense of where the light came from.
And, I like the palms bit, but I think this could be stronger too, it's obvious that the wind causes the palms to move about but I think it's worth exploring some phrasing that will nail that down.

Thanks Robin,
I intended it to be a look at attraction and states thought, the thought being that it's a shame beauty is often a face value thing.

Thanks Sergio,

definitely an interesting take on it for sure. I appreciate the time.

Of the three poems I've read from you this is far and away the one I enjoyed the most. The first strophe is a little hard to follow as precisely as you might wish to, especially when you read down and find you want to read more and more. Maybe you need local knowledge to understand it, my point being that to ask for clarification is not a crime, just as it isn't a crime to not know something. It's good work, and that makes what followed a bit of a shame.

db

I'd say I love you presently, that all
the fallen years we bent to share have brought
us symmetry and though I stoop to trace
old dreams, they do not occupy my mind --
but rather, and more fondly, I recall:

the wood bench
where I first saw green
spill out of class and find the daisy,

the river girl --
I watched the water
rise and dip itself in toe.

Autumn's last --
pale sun reposing,
basking in late-standing gold.

I think of them --
but always you were hyacinth,
and loved the cold and said the sun belonged to us.

From the description you gave to Snow I can see what the poem is about or where it is sourced from.

I found the 'oh......' and use of advanced language a bit of a mood killer in getting into this, I mean I know a guy who writes words and words and words you've never heard of and not that poetry or the poet should be limited to common things but generally I'm a bit distrustful of it because I don't or haven't read a lot of poetry from famous authors that was constructed in that manner. Generally the ideas are complex but the language, for the most part, is fairly simple.

I liked the transitions in this, from alms to beggar, assassin to shifting appetites, steel indecision/bruising to parakeets etc... the transitions are the most pleasing aspect of the poem for me. However it comes across as a bit intellectual rather than with feeling, and the key would be to employ both aspects but I think the greater focus should fall on delivering a gut punch. I've been struggling with writing recently because I've been exploring what you might call eureka moments as they relate to emotional turmoil, however they are coming out a bit dry, saying with the head, but going unpaired with what the heart is feeling. I post them, look at them, and then delete them, because they don't compel me to think, 'this is what it is.'

db

Thanks Sergio,

I mean it's one that people get or don't get, and I can understand that, but it sets out to do something if that makes sense.

Appreciate the time.

db

Pretty girls will walk in front of punches --

fresh crushed, slow bruised,
ripe enough for glim perusing,

beauty sufficient and sufficient
to dim the pallor --

to stick in the craw
of a plain cut country boy
who knows better than to wonder why --

who knows that pretty girls are often quantified
by the way they walk in front of punches.

[And what does it say of me: the unnoticed, longing to exist in eyes that glimmer
with apologetic light, that cry hero of last night's glowering pugilist --
her shimmering Nero]

Yet, she is an enchantment --
more endearing for the fine drawn hues,
the deep striated blues of inner bruising:

She becomes only a breadth of sky, made too soft

to swallow.

it's pretty strong Snow,

i don't know that the title is the greatest or maybe it's that there's no fastening on a particular metaphor. You start off with the earthquake deal and that's quite compelling and then there's a tug of war, and there's the leftovers thing. Altogether, I think it's too much, with the scattering of theme weakening the end result. Like Sergio, I'd rather see it close at the brooch.

Other than that, don't be disheartened, it's sad stuff, and good stuff that is earned by the connections you do make.

db.

I think there's a bit of fat that could be trimmed in the first strophe and for me it's a bit of a reach in that this poem is a wise man built his house upon the rocks poem, in which case I think the lack of clarity, and the bareness or obviousness of what you are trying to set up comes across as being manufactured. The second strophe, by comparison, is very natural, and is more subtle, so I think you need to pair the one with the other better, and then you'll have a good poem.

db

Hi Kimi,

this is definitely headed in the right direction.

with rhythms there are opportunities to add variations which, when they break from a set rhythm, change the tone.
Something that is all in the same rhythm or note soon becomes familiar and sets a tone that is sometimes less than we are aiming for. This type of rhymed couplet format AA BB CC DD etc, can be lovely and light but it can also lend itself toward lighter poetry. Try enjambment of one thought into another, and ending lines at different places, rather than at the end of every second line. If your rhythm is good enough you can get away with not rhyming at all, or using internal rhyme. I think, as you have it, this poem is a bit list-like where what I'm trying to suggest is that it's possible to write about one thing, another thing and then have that add up to or suggest another, like the rainbow in a black bird's wing. And all the way through, you can do this.

well done though, it's a vast improvement on the last.

db

I don't really care
if pennies in the air
give me bride of Frankie hair,
or if the wind with OCD
keeps coming back to check on me.


I don't know if the threepeat of A rhyme (care/air/hair) is a great start, i sort of shuddered because this is a start that could put off many a reader, because it often signals that the remaining however many lines that are written by however many writers, will be no good.

the next two lines are better, but i think you can approach being whimsical in a different way with this strophe and still achieve the same thing. In other words, yes, rethink the first three lines.

See raindrops bounce on trampolines
of vivid gold and emerald green
and pirate-squirrels get back to work
hiding treasure in the dirt.

I like this strophe and the pastoral feel it has. I think it might be stronger to say squirrel's pirate in the dirt what nature...... but that would require a rework of the work line.

But what I like the most
beside the split-rail posts
are flowers bent and bowed
beneath the patchwork clouds,
like sinners in a pew
I find I'm praying too.

I like this section, the change in rhythm in the first line is a nice turn/volta where the poem gets a bit serious.

from my understanding if you through in two commas like this:

But what I like the most,
beside the split-rail posts,
are flowers bent and bowed

then what you enable yourself to say is that you like flowers bent and bowed, the bit in the middle just becomes detail. nice detail. I don't see a need to move this to the freeverse forum, i think you could manage a very lovely and surprising poem here, it just needs a little work.

in place of patchwork. you could try lighted, which indicates the sun and luminance etc. there are lots of options.

db

there's some strong emotion that comes through this when it's put simply.

I find the thing that lets it down is that: how many metaphors are you using. This is about tides right, so how do tattoos and mirages, painting etc etc etc get in there? it's a bit of a lollie scramble and I think the poem comes across as ordinary and weekend writer-ish because of this, and when it doesn't need to. Metaphors need to be deployed rather than slapped down, and the difference there is planning, one thing imforming us of another, suggesting that it should be so.

db

A few thoughts for you to take or toss.

I think this is goodish, though I note the rhyme scheme is a bit odd, and since you mix that up a bit I think there's enough freedom to perhaps reach for more with some of these lines, also, I think there could be a stronger continuity in this piece, or maybe i mean that the phrasing could be more precise. Anything is bold is an area to look at with those things in mind.

Balboa skies are deep wisteria
tonight, and Tony's bar is set aglow
in strands of yellow lights. Faint Beach Boy songs
float honeycombed around the bungalows,
where front yard palms wave errant offerings
beneath pale summer stars. The cadenced flow
of tide beyond the pier is sloshing out
a distant, rhythmic water-tune. Although
I never stay until the restaurants
have closed, or dance inside the bars— I still
remember cigarettes and halter tops
inviting dampness of an evening chill.
The stinging sunburn from an August day
and tenderness, when all is peeled away.

the couplet is good.

db

Hey kimi,

don't sweat it, it seems like you're open to learning, and that's a good attitude to have.
I think the key things in this are the beatdown, the bedraggled solider and dog, loss, displacement, but as mentioned, these things are sort of put there almost because they are meant to tug at the heart' strings rather than being explored or earning their keep. I'd try another one.

db

Hey guys, Sorry to leave these poems lagging and gathering comments that go unanswered. I've been sick, stressed out and work is busier than you could believe given that it's a recession.

I thank you all for your time and kind words and suggestion but I'm going to have to disappear for awhile. Things are a bit much right now.

Apologies,

Daniel

Thanks JLY,

it's really nice to know you could identify with this and I thank you for sharing your specific thoughts. It made me feel as if the effort was a success.

Thanks Leo, this is an older poem that I had a few light-bulb moments with, so fortunately I can say that my Father didn't die recently and that I've had plenty of time to process his passing.
I very much enjoyed reading the thoughts you shared and welcome the question offered.

Perhaps it is a failing on my part to adequately steer the poem toward the questions I was hoping to leave readers with.
The lines you mention reflect generational questions: does my grandfather wait for my father, will my father wait for me, will I wait for my son, does god claim us all as his own, or is there simply nothing. These are the types of questions I was hoping to raise in readers minds.

Any suggestions?

Thanks Steve,

I appreciate your enthusiasm for the words and the sharing of your own perspectives. Thanks so much for your time.

Daniel

I watched your birth and heard your primal cry
of helplessness. I knew a father's joy,
his awkward pride. At four, you are a boy
whose small steps overshadow every high
I've championed in forty years. And yet,
I miss the way your tiny fingers fumbled
for shiny things, the way your features crumbled
when tired, your tangled words. And if I let
myself, I think of death, of who'll surround
you when I'm gone, who'll pull you close and clasp
your head, if one day you'll grow old alone.
I wonder, as I watch you run around,
who'll cherish life that moves beyond their grasp,
who'll wait and think to claim you as his own.

"She warms the bread
when she hears his tread
of boot on wooden stair.
Prepares his drink
in a routine blink
and touches up her hair."


I like this stanza very much, very catchy and it speaks of someone still making an effort despite the fact that things maybe aren't quite as she'd like them to be. On the other hand it's also quite sad because the last line also speaks of someone who hurts alone. I like duality in poems and enjoy the contrast here.

Nits, well perhaps the first two stanzas concentrate too much on sound and poetic/romantic images so that we never really nail down the tragedy of what it is she's missing beyond a one size fits all wordscape.

Sorry if that sounded hard, but I think there's more here.

DB

Hey Merle,

It's in this stanza where I think the punctuation would make a big difference:

An ambulance---parked askew(,)
rear door flapping a knowing
rectangular wink(,) received its load
a man (I think) from the size of a foot
sheathed in brown sock.



And I, I ambled back---to catch
the final guest promoting
their latest film

Also, in the third stanza, I like peppering the building instead of "tying" since "black and white parade" & "plastic yellow"
alert the reader to the presence of the police and crime scene (and your phrasing their is excellent)
I feel peppering enriches the parade imagery as well as the crime scene.

DB

Hey Merle,

I like this a lot. It's well observed.

Our styles my differ and that's no crime but I found in I stumbled in a few places where I'd have liked the thoughts to have been separated by more punctuation or where haiku style phrasing seemed to unsettle the flow of the piece. For me this was only a problem in the middle stanzas of the poem. Also "whilst" rang a bell because it seems a formal word where the action is all about casually giving death and the gravity of the situation the blow off.

I think you're onto a winning thing here.

DB

Hey Snow,

it's hard to be an unbiased judge here since I already knew the ending but, yes, I think you did. Also (and no disrespect intended to you or those who offered invaluable feedback) I far prefer the first version and its extended syntax.

I hope in saying that I haven't outworn my welcome at mm

Thanks, Snow & Peggy

I'm doin ok and appreciate your kind words and encouragement to join in.

DB

Thanks, Syl

I appreciate your kind words also and look forward to any thoughts you might have to offer.

DB