Unbundled **, Sadness Options

[greenwich]

Unbundled

Dishonestly she smiles
half feigning politeness,
the rest the growing smidgeon
of self doubt.
There will be no blue birds of love
she thought,
just the tiredness of being Justine,
nothing more than a loyal daughter
whose buried her once gaiety
presently circling round spectres of the
emotionally departed,
feasting on the cold crumbs of comfort.

[Psyche]

Hi!

Just read your poem at bedtime! I'm too dim witted to comment anything, sorry.
It's interesting, a good poem.

A bit complicated, but that's probably me!

Back soon, Syl***

[Critter]

Unbundled

Dishonestly she smiles
half feigning politeness, I find this image a bit vague or complicated. I think I get it but it stops the entrance into the poem. It is almost haiku-like.
the rest the growing smidgeon
of self doubt. All interesting and it rings true...but it is telly
There will be no blue birds of love
she thought,
just the tiredness of being Justine,
nothing more than a loyal daughter
whose buried her once gaiety a little too ... much of something
presently circling round spectres of the (specters ?)
emotionally departed feasting
on the cold crumbs of comfort. Very complex and ends with a cliché mmm I don't know. I think as a visual thing it works or maybe as an exercise in an acting class. Can't say I am loving it but it has depth...maybe a short poem is the wrong vehicle?

[K.S. Lenk]

Have to agree with Critter that something is off.
Apart from punctuation and a spelling mistake, the story leads nowhere.

'Buried her once gaiety' is awkward spelling, 'whose' is wrong.
The rest of that sentence is so long, the reader is lost trying to keep track.
Buried her gaiety under what? And why? Divulge or disclose these observations/thoughts/emotions in a poetic way. You hold your cards too close to your chest and lose meaning.

Spectres or specters depends on UK or US spelling I think.

[Eisa]

Hi Antony,

I noticed you hadn't many comments on this and realised I hadn't read or commented either.

Unbundled

I'm not too keen on the title - it doesn't somehow draw me in to read

I have to agree with others that this has awkwardness to it when read. Some suggestions for smoothing out below.

Dishonestly she smiles
half feigning politeness,
the rest the growing smidgeon
of self doubt.

I think this could be written more concisely

Her smile, dishonestly
feigned politeness,
with a growing smidgeon
of self doubt.


There will be no blue birds of love
she thought,
just the tiredness of being Justine,
nothing more than a loyal daughter
whose buried her once gaiety
presently circling round spectres of the
emotionally departed,

There will be no love birds
she thought,
just the tiredness (boredom) of being Justine,
a loyal daughter with hidden gaiety,
circling round spectres of the
emotionally departed,


feasting on the cold crumbs of comfort.

Last line is rather cliché. If you can't find another way of saying perhaps delete altogether.
Hope something helps.
Eira

[greenwich]

Thank you Eira for your comments. Appreciated

[Psyche]

Hi Antony,

Back as promised.

The title muddles me. Found the word in medical section of Thesaurus, where it's considered a fraudulent practice: dividing medical tests into parts, so that labs receive larger reimbursements. Please explain its relationship to your poem. Tx!

Unbundled

Dishonestly she smiles
half feigning politeness, <<<<A bit awkward. Dishonestly and feigning have similar nuances. Perhaps a different word in L1, to start off? "She smiles enigmatically...or cryptically. ToT.

the rest a growing smidgeon <<<<can also be written 'smidgen', but it's OK.

of self doubt.

Perhaps:

with a growing smidgeon
of self doubt.


There will be no blue birds of love<<<<<No blue bird's love in sight, ToT
she thought,
(just) only the (tiredness) weariness of being Justine, <<<<I'm thinking of the Marquis de Sade's Justine.

nothing more than a loyal daughter <<<<<<she sought virtue, but always stumbled into vice, sexual slavery, etc., due to her ineptitude.If you're thinking Justine, add interest with a line or two about this! Methinks...

whose buried her (once) youthful gaiety.

Perhaps:

her youthful gaiety masked;
(presently) circling round spectres of the
emotionally departed. <<<<<finish here. Her father and sister had died.

(feasting on the cold crumbs of comfort.)

I may be way off track, but your poem reminds me of the Marquis de Sade's novella, with was posthumously published as an extensive, uncensored novel. He spent his last years in prison, where he wrote the novella. Can't remember all, but the movie "Quills" about Sade's last years, included parts of Justine.

I agree with others that this poem is missing more details. You may even be thinking of L. Durrell's Justine, for all we can know!

Just show us a little more!
Psyche