Reviewing the night

[howl]

Prize the new night ahead,
under neon’s cool moon-sky.
Our soft migrating urges,
still monkey-guided, confused.

Vin et chocolat, Ben?
At the table, tugging thoughts.
We’re practically alive,
cradle-mourning time.

Oh sun, abate your eye-
crude, reeking servant.
Nighttime, my vivid cavity,
linger raw among us.

Ben - claws or cleaver now?
Our sun has lost entitlement.
His last cues, unclear still,
yet echo in my ears.

[thewilderhen]

[quote="howl" pid='276095' dateline='1764273447']
Prize the new night ahead, 
under neon’s cool moon-sky.
Our soft migrating urges,
still monkey-guided, confused.
______________________________

I don’t know why, but the first line reads a little oddly to me. Maybe it’s the ze to th transition that sticks out, cause it’s hard to say (at least in my accent). Or because it’s a six-syllable line surrounded by seven-syllable lines. It’s interesting to hear the guttural gs (g’s?) throughout this poem, in a poem that is about romance. The hard g is a bit forceful, like you’re reinforcing this idea of physical awkwardness between lovers.

Vin et chocolat, Ben?
At the table, tugging thoughts.
We’re practically alive,
cradle-mourning time.

_________________

Not sure about the last two lines. Alive, yes I can follow that. Not sure about the mourning part - it seems to suggest you’re not really alive yet, but you’re also mourning time? To mourn something implies familiarity with it.



Oh sun, abate your eye-
crude, reeking servant.
Nighttime, my vivid cavity,
linger raw among us.

_____________
Visceral imagery! Maybe change “among” to “between” because (I think) you’re talking about two people here.


Ben - claws or cleaver now?
Our sun has lost entitlement.
His last cues, unclear still,
yet echo in my ears.

_________________
I like that this last bit expands focus a bit from the lovers, and goes back to a wider perspective. It jolts a bit, but I think it’s also effective with the rest of your poem. “Yet” does feel a bit like it’s doing a lot of lifting work - placed to make the phrase six syllables again.


I like where this poem is heading. I like your mixture of free-verse and almost magical realism paired with a more traditional meter and four-stanza layout.

[howl]

Thanks for the critique and the kind feedback. I’ll definitely go back and revise it with your notes in mind.

[busker]

Prize the new night ahead,
under neon’s cool moon-sky.  ... I imagine the setting to be somewhere in a city with its neon lights. S2 indicates it's a restaurant.
Our soft migrating urges,
still monkey-guided, confused.  ... there are some missing verbs here. ('are still monkey guided'?). 

Vin et chocolat, Ben?
At the table, tugging thoughts.  ... Nice
We’re practically alive,
cradle-mourning time.  ... not quite sure why it's cradle-mourning time, or what it means. I expect the rest of the poem to explore this theme, but it doesn't.

Oh sun, abate your eye-
crude, reeking servant.  ... nice, but 'reeking' is odd
Nighttime, my vivid cavity,
linger raw among us.  ...  this doesn't quite make sense in the context of what you've said before. There are neon lights, you're at a dinner, and you have a problem with moonlight? It comes off as a cliched poetic wish for night's darkness, which doesn't apply in this situation.

Ben - claws or cleaver now?  ... I assume this is a reference to the menu, in which case it's a nice reversion to the dinner table conversation of before.
Our sun has lost entitlement.
His last cues, unclear still,
yet echo in my ears. ... 'cue' and 'echo' can't be associated with the sun, unless you set up the metaphor properly, which is not the case here.

I think it's an interesting poem, but the 'what' has to be thought through some more.

[milo]

Prize the new night ahead,
under neon’s cool moon-sky.

no complaints this far, line breaks are solid, moon-sky is nice in its efficiency.  Prize is an odd choice but not uncomfortably so

Our soft migrating urges,
still monkey-guided, confused.

Still efficient, still good use of line breaks, "migrating" feels like the wrong word.

Vin et chocolat, Ben?
At the table, tugging thoughts.
We’re practically alive,
cradle-mourning time.

"cradle-mourning" is another nice turn of phrase, both in it's economy and in it's contrast to what we have witnessed so far.  In classic italian poetry, this would be the volta, we have had the reveal and now perhaps discussion and resolution.  I don't know if "practically" alive is correct here or not, it has an off/alien feel to it, but if you consider the double meaning of practically/practically, it works to convey the feeling of a couple mourning the death of a child as both barely alive as well as only alive for practical functionality.

Oh sun, abate your eye-
crude, reeking servant.
Nighttime, my vivid cavity,
linger raw among us.

So the tone does change here which makes sense following the volta, with "Oh" alluding to more classical poetry serving as apostrophe.

I have so far enjoyed your odd turns of phrase but I must protest to the sun being described as reeking.

Ben - claws or cleaver now?
Our sun has lost entitlement.
His last cues, unclear still,
yet echo in my ears.

This last part is lost on me.  In addition, the efficiency and line breaks are not as good here.  Is "still" pulling its weight?  In addition, I don't think you need the anthropomorphism of the sun

overall, a pleasant read

Thanks