10-16-2013, 05:08 PM
(10-11-2013, 08:04 PM)Todd Wrote: Newton's CradleHi Todd,
Terror is never as simple as the unseen clacking ball.
It is always the doll with a butcher’s knife,
crawling through ventilation shafts,
or the stranger that follows you home—
with each imperceptible connection
acting as a marker.
We scan the skies for flying monkeys,
or wander through corn fields
to the music of the moon, with its midnight waltz
of straw zombies--simple distractions
to protect us from the truth.
The witch cackle, cackles and you will believe
that you can never go home.
A fingerprint will smudge
cancer on an X-ray
The clatter of the metal duct
will cover the creak of tiny feet on hardwood
The funnel cloud swirls
like a swarm of restless bees.
The ball is already swinging.
Death comes first
then the dying.
~~~
The original poem is here. I got a great deal of good feedback that led to this revision. Thanks all!
I will lighten up. Too much analysis causes paralysis. I want to talk about, and crit, the poem.
I liked this before and I like it now. Why?
Easy. That's right. Easy. This read holds no shocks, shunts or shivers...it is poetry for it's own sake. S1 retains the homeopathic signature of terror...look, there is nothing there...and you could leave it at that...good for you that the body we thought was dead rises again in S2!
I can complain about the form. Compaction in to homogenity would help the piece enormously...but as I said the first time round, you and your brittle line breaks are here to stay.I will have to live with the staccatto stanzas even though I do not understand why you do it...or more to the point, why you leave it done.
The last couplet....it worries me but not a lot....no, I'm not on fluvoxamine... though the journey is worth more than the destination. As I began, so I will finish. A smooth ride which I enjoyed. I felt I was looking out of your window and I don't feel that often these days.
Best,
tectak